Luna's a fucking bitch!

No... A fucking cunt!

Bitchcunt!

Motherfucking cocksucker!

That piss-faced shitfucker!

A rancid cuntstain of a princess!

It only took a few moments of lying on the floor to run through all the expletives, derogatives, invectives, and most bloodily colorful thoughts I could concoct. Nothing was strong enough!

Screams of fury were stillborn because I couldn't manage anything more than quick, shallow breaths that barely salved the creeping feeling of impending suffocation. I couldn't cry out the monumental injustice of it all; my anger wouldn't be debased by such a shameful display! I wanted to shout - to break something! - but breathing was painful, much less moving.

So I lay and wallowed, trapped between lingering terror and stark helplessness. What else could I do?

As long as I kept my right side toward the ceiling, the piercing feeling remained simply an uncomfortable ache, though one I was reminded of with each breath. The impression that the pain would clear fully if I moved just right, or got a certain joint to pop - or something like that - was maddening. Still, my side was adamant that it was in my best interest to not even try.

I just hoped I wasn't going to be completely black and blue tomorrow; I still had work.

Didn't I?

That I probably didn't at this point, and my boss would flip the fuck out, only added to the growing pile of woes. But it was strangely easy to just push them all aside for now. After all, what I really needed to do was...

I wasn't sure. I craned my head around because I was definitely missing something - something important.

Craig was crouched right there, knees hanging over my head, and speaking clipped, strident words into my phone. Past his feet was my bed, which remained devoid of a certain golden yellow alicorn. Except for the usual dust bunnies - recently decimated by the aforementioned pony - it was bare underneath as well.

Where was Dimble?!

I levered my shoulder into the carpet to get a wider view in spite of how my side screamed and made my entire body clench. In the corner behind me were the remains of my desk, its cheap fiberboard the source of many of the little bits and pieces strewn about. Dust and chunks from the drywall that had borne its impact fleshed out the debris spread.

I'd seen car accidents with similar sorts of damage. The desk had crumpled against the wall like it had been flung dozens of feet, rather than just a couple. With the sizeable impact web marring its surface, the wall certainly looked like it had been hit by a vehicle. There were even a couple places where it had been pierced clear through.

My monitor had been broken open to reveal pieces of electronica and was never going to be useable ever again. The computer's case was largely intact, though bent awkwardly and with one sliding side folded off its tracks. I could only imagine how the drives had fared.

My stuff... All those games, the saved pictures, old schoolwork I'd wanted for later, doodles and things, assorted official documents I'd stored so I could forget but still reference... There were tears in my eyes again that I couldn't blink away. That computer was a large part of my life. How much had I lost? I had to know!

A hand grasped my shoulder when I tried to shift around, holding me still even as spiking pain tried to do the same.

"No, dude, don't move." Craig's voice was strained, matching the faint tremors his hand passed into me. "You... you don't wanna' hurt yourself more. I've seen it; you need to keep still until the ambulance gets here."

Right. Right. Moving might make everything a whole lot worse.

"Nnnngh," was my eloquent reply; I'd meant so much more. A faint nod seemed to suffice for the rest.

"It won't be long, k? You'll be alright."

I knew he meant well but that hadn't sounded good at all. I dragged my eyes up, seeking his face. My side twinged from that simple movement.

It might be a broken rib, my mind suddenly and helpfully supplied. Wouldn't that be just fucking wonderful! How bad would that be? Better yet, how could that kind of thing possibly be set? Would I be confined to a brace for months? This could seriously fuck with my job.

Fuck Luna! No, seriously, she needed to get fucked; preferably by something long and serrated like that poor sucker from the movie Se7en.

Craig's brown eyes were locked on me, twitching and shifting with a variety of obvious emotions, as he held my phone to his ear. Concern for me was foremost, certainly, but so was a marked uncertainty in the way his eyes kept drifting down my side - he looked like he wanted to do so much more.

"No, ummm, we're safe," he said, stealing a momentary glance backward toward the doorway.

Oh, right, he was still on the phone with the hospital people.

And nothing else was in the room now, yet he must have been thinking the same thing I was: there could be at any moment and with no warning. That wasn't reassuring at all.

"Yeah," he continued, eyes darting around but wanting to stay on me. "Um, yeah. Not letting him move. Just please-"

We both flinched as heavy knocking sounded from the other side of the apartment.

"Fuck." Craig choked back a gulp.

My thoughts exactly. He'd just gotten on the phone so there was no way the medics were here already. I hadn't even heard any sirens. I knew I wasn't in the best state, but I was sure I still would have noticed them.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck." I didn't care how much venting stung; I was upset enough to welcome the pain as a surrogate for lashing out at something else.

"No. Sorry. It's gotta', um, be our neighbors or something. They're knocking." He paused, expression losing some focus. "I'm gonna' have to do something."

More knocking.

Craig ran a hand through his hair. Where'd his hat gone? "No, he's as good as I can make him, ‘kay? He's not bleeding - 'least not bad - nothing's bent, or anything, and he's not goin’ anywhere." Another pause. "You're just gonna' have to deal, man, 'cause I don't want the dude upstairs breaking my door."

Mister Avery definitely wouldn’t let a flimsy, little door stop him from ‘helping.’

Craig scooted back without waiting for another reply, the phone disappearing somewhere, and he yanked the pillow and blanket from my bed. I angled my head away from the floor - grimacing at another twinge from my side - so Craig could slide the pillow home. The blanket got wadded and pressed along my back.

"You just stay there, 'kay Alex? Don't... Don't move."

Nope, not if I could help it. I shook my head against the pillow.

Craig paused for all of a second before nodding. He bounced to his feet like a spring uncoiling and stalked to the doorway, finger-combing his hair again. A quick check of the hall with darting eyes, a glance back at me, and then he was gone, muttering something even as his voice faded into the background.

I was by myself.

Alone.

Oh, fuck, what if the ponies came back? What if Luna...

No, she wouldn't. Right? Ponies weren't like that. Maybe.

They certainly hadn't been what I was expecting when they showed up, and even Etherea had shown time and again that she wasn't like the show's characters. I just didn't know anymore; the other ponies might want to finish the job!

It was then that I noticed the trembling - my whole body seemed to be vibrating.

Freaking out. I was terrifying myself. I had to stop. Etherea was my friend; she'd set them straight.

God, I hoped she would.

Lying helplessly on the floor wasn't helping either. I couldn't move - shouldn't, really - and, surrounded by the remains of a large chunk of my life, I needed to focus on something else.

A quick, desperate search with my least painful senses picked out distant voices. It must be Craig and whoever was at the door. Raised, clipped tones spoke of unfettered anxiety and I could easily imagine Mister Avery demanding to know what was going on and what he could do about it. For all his seemed imposing, he was the one I'd seen most often interacting with and helping our neighbors.

Don't let him back here, Craig. I don't want him to see me like this!

That thought came with a self-derisive sneer. Luna had reduced me to ashamedly hiding from the people I knew. Wonderful.

I could imagine her gloating over my situation. She'd gotten what she wanted and could now sit back and enjoy the show. Hell, she might even be watching now, somehow. If ponies could teleport to this world then they could probably scry it too.

She might... She might even come back to do to Craig what she'd done to me. He had gotten off lightly, being apparently hale and healthy.

Or maybe she'd turned her attention to Etherea. For all her innocence in the rescue, she'd still been the catalyst. Even if Etherea fought for me, she'd be helpless under Luna's direct control. I could see Etherea trying to stand up for me, going toe to toe with Luna, and getting her ass handed to her.

Even as ludicrous as my morbid fantasies might be, I remained there, coming up with ever more masochistic ones to feed the fires that roared within me. There was little else to do while I listened to the sirens drawing closer.

Plus I didn't want to face the truth: I couldn't think of a fucking thing to tell whoever came for me.

I knew how the room looked and it wouldn't make any sense to an outside observer, but that's because the truth would sound completely insane. The cops definitely didn't take well to obvious bullshit.

The pain in my side sucked but, having lessened somewhat, I could take it. Anger at Luna I could also deal with. The rising panic I could not.

A shape flew into the open doorway from the hall, stumbling to a halt. I flinched and set off my side again.

"Dude...! What do we tell the cops?!" Craig's eyes darted around wildly before focusing on me.

He expected me to have an answer just like that?! It was hard to breathe again, the sudden tension in my chest fighting my lungs' efforts.

"I... I..." I didn't have a fucking clue! There was nothing we could tell them that would make sense!

"Shit! Shit! Shit! Shi-!"

More, sharper knocking resounded through the apartment.

They were here already?! I hadn't heard...! Wait, no, there were multiple sirens out there.

"We... can't tell them anything, can we?"

I twitched my head slightly, trying and largely failing to shake it.

"Fuck!" He danced in place, spinning around once to take a step, whirling back to toss a glance to me, before darting back down the hall.

I tried to take even breaths and will my heart into a more reasonable rhythm. Shifting to a less pitiful position was on my mind but steady, purposeful steps easily outpaced my pathetic efforts.

He had the deep blue uniform, a round-brimmed hat tilted forward above his face, and an assortment of tools around his waist that Batman would have appreciated. He was tall and broad-shouldered - clearly much more fit than I'd ever been - with a tight expression across his slightly receded jaw. I'd expected much of that. I also wasn't surprised that one hand remained cautiously near his hip or that his eyes immediately went around the room - me, my wall, each window in turn, across the floor, and then back to me.

What I hadn't expected was how quickly his expression softened, hand coming away from his sidearm as he moved surprisingly lightly across the floor.

"Hey there. I'm Corporal Reichelt. What's your name?" His voice, while on the high end of deep, was similarly soft.

"Alex."

He quickly surveyed the room one more time, then nodded to another cop in the doorway who I noticed only because of the corporal's gesture.

Before I could more than begin to wonder about this, the corporal spoke again. "Alex, you can go ahead and just call me Dan, okay? Your roommate says you're injured? Where does it hurt the most and is there anything I can do to help you?"

"My b-back." Come on voice, stop shaking! "Not much else."

He nodded again. After a last look around he crouched down next to me. "The EMTs will be here soon and you're going to be alright. I'd like to check you really quick, though, if you don't mind, Alex."

I did my best to nod with my head pressed against the pillow. Taking my eyes off him as he loomed above me proved impossible because, despite his kindly expression as he shifted the blanket, I couldn't stop from dreading the impending interrogation about my part in all this. A helter-skelter mess of disjointed thoughts was the only answer that I came up with to his phantom questions. The anticipation alone was killing me.

"Well, the good news is it doesn't look all that bad-" Yeah, but what about the rest?! "-still, try not to move much until the EMTs get a look at you. I'll bet you're going to be just fine soon enough."

I nodded. Unfortunately the comfort he offered meant little.

"I'm just going to take a quick look around, alright?"

He was already here and it's not like I could stop him. I took my hand away from my side long enough to motion my consent.

"You're going to be okay." He gently - very gently - set his fingers to my shoulder and then rose.

A small pad of paper manifested in his hand from somewhere, followed by gloves and a little pencil as he began making a circuit around the room, painstakingly poking into every corner and scribbling almost constantly. The bed, the floor, both windows, and even the doorframe all came under intense scrutiny. The wall behind me and the extensive damage around it bore the brunt of it.

Dan's eyes kept drifting down to me though. His small, sympathetic smiles only made me more uncomfortable. I knew he was trying to reassure me but the attention only highlighted how I wouldn't be doing him any favors down the road.

At some point during his examination his walkie-talkie barked, letting us know that the EMTs were just outside. After an hour - or only a minute or two - the sounds of people coming down the hall with something heavy, metallic, and wheeled overrode the distant sounds of a crowd.

I mean, who wouldn't want to be a nosy neighbor for something as juicy as this?

Oh, God, what if Craig and I ended up on Cops...

Through my door came a tall by a pale, solid-looking woman with dirty blonde hair in a very neat and short ponytail - utilitarian even - followed closely by a small, wiry man with narrow dark eyes and close-cropped spiked black hair. They both wore professional white over dark blue along with bright blue latex gloves but otherwise could not have been more different. Somehow they had managed to drag an entire gurney through the apartment.

The two newcomers paused just inside the door, the lady pulling her eyes from me to lock gazes with the cop.

"Scene is clear. He's got no major visible injuries but he's got some minor bleeding and complains of pain in his back."

I'm right here, you know!

"His name's Alex, by the way," the cop said - what was his name again? - his expression softening momentarily as he looked me over.

The lady nodded, turning to me. The two of them stepped briskly yet gingerly past everything littering the carpet while the cop watched for a moment, pencil hovering just over his pad.

Why would I notice something like that at a time like this?

"Hey, Alex, my name's Cindy and this here's Tim-" That didn't sound very asian. "-and we're here to help you."

They lifted a wide board with built-in handholds and a large dark blue duffel-like bag off the gurney, setting the board down parallel to me.

Oh, right, that would be for me. I was going to be carried like dead weight - another insult. Fucking thanks, Luna!

Both their faces held a distressingly soft cast as they took positions to bracket me - she beside me and him by my head. I didn't get any time to contemplate this before a hand slipped under my head. It was immediately joined by a sturdier pillow-thing with foam, or something, inside that replaced my own pillow. A second hand then set against the other side of my head, the pair of them supporting and holding me.

"Can you tell us where it hurts the most?"

What was also funny was how little pain I was in at that moment. Feeling it receding was, well, good, I guess.

"My back. Right side." It should not have taken two breaths to say that.

"Being able to speak is good. I'm going to do a quick assessment, okay?"

Did I have a choice? No!

"Does it hurt anywhere else?" Cindy asked, leaning over me and pulling out a stethoscope.

"Small ones here. And there on my back. Aches all over. Like lots of bruises. I think."

She just nodded, placing the stethoscope just below the base of my neck. After a pause she moved it, momentarily stopping at a couple more locations before she folded the tool away.

Next on the agenda was apparently to feel me up around the edges. I tensed at the contact, wanting to crawl away and hide. The point of my back just right of my spine twinged ominously as she brushed it, making me suck in a breath.

After holding up gloved hands marred by a couple spots of blood - how bad was it, doc? - she said something that I wished I caught. Something about-

Those were some weird hook-like scissors... I clenched up again when they darted straight for me, sucking in a pained breath, but nothing further was forthcoming. Soft snipping and tearing was followed by a sudden chill.

My shirt! She'd just sliced it right open! That fucking bitch! I liked that shirt; it was mine!

And then, for some insane reason, she leaned over to run a hand right over where my back had been hurting. The following sharp tap?! Motherfucking yes, it hurts!

That also brought a fresh round of trying to catch my breath. If I hadn't been floored by the pain I definitely would have swung at her.

"-of your back I'm not seeing anything that might be serious. The good news it doesn't seem likely to be spinal."

Great! I still didn't feel any better for it. Did you have to fucking poke it?!

She didn't answer because I didn't ask, instead retreating into the depths of my thoughts.

"-going to get you moving now, okay? Just relax."

Again, it's not like I could resist!

Then there was a third person there, and it wasn't the cop. Some guy in a bulky brown full-body outfit and a dark helmet-sort of hat with a flipped-up visor crouched over my feet. I couldn't quite place what I was seeing at the bottom of my vision but it seemed familiar.

Where had that guy come from?

Strong hands gripped me from almost every side and lifted me forward onto the board, one leg getting tucked into a curled position that helped brace me. More foam thingies were tucked in around me as they applied straps all over the place.

Then I was hoisted over to the gurney and they tucked some kind of blanket in around me. Almost without pause, the two EMTs gingerly navigated me out of the room and down the hall, passing another, slightly older and somehow burlier - or just fatter - cop pressed into the corner just outside my room, another someone in another bulky brown outfit standing in the bathroom doorway, then another cop and some guy older dude in official-looking white and blue next to my own goddamned roommate on our couch. Craig looked more tousled than usual and horribly lost. Then I was out the front door.

Flashing lights filling the space between the apartment buildings, more cops standing watch and holding back a crowd, as well as more guys in brown.

Oh, firemen. Why'd they need the entire fire department?

I couldn't pick out my neighbors from the blurring faces of what was probably everyone, their families, and their friends, but I caught far too many eyes glimmering in the pulsing red and blue glare. My heart took off racing and I swear the temperature soared; it was a scene right out of the evening news and I was the goddamned spectacle.

I couldn't curl away from it all either, not with these fucking straps!

"No," was the surprisingly gentle admonition from the guy holding the head end of my board. "No, don't try to move."

Fuck that! I'd never been more embarrassed and upset in my goddamned life!

Yet I stayed still. It was enough that every little motion reminded that there was something very wrong with my side.

Fortunately the ambulance was right there. More medical jargon flowed back and forth for a second as an older and balding EMT manifested nearby and I found myself completely lost. I couldn't tell what was good or what was bad. They might have been discussing genetic theory in Russian - hah! Wouldn't that be funny? - for all I knew. Everything was professional as they slid me into place inside the tidy white box that was the ambulance's rear, so nothing was given away by tone.

The asian guy clambered in next to me and sat down on a bench - or something - near my head, and was followed shortly by someone else squeezing in behind me. Judging by the sounds around me, both began rummaging around in the nearby cabinets and drawers. The first thing to come out was a plastic mask, produced by the asian dude.

"This'll help you breathe if you need it."

Yeah, okay. It went on my face regardless of my feelings.

Next came that arm thing to test my blood pressure - I'll be damned if I could remember what it was - as the rear door to the ambulance shut. With the guy doing a more thorough - and more embarrassing full-body feel-up - I retreated to the safest place I knew: my head.

I was in an ambulance. I'd never ridden in one before. I'd have been more curious if I didn't have a good idea how much this was going to cost later. One of my sisters had been carted to the hospital for heat exhaustion once and it had taken help from my dad to pay for it. I had health insurance but how much would that actually cover?

Which still left my apartment. Did renter's insurance cover alien invasions?

If I didn't tell them what had actually happened it might cover nothing. But nobody would possibly believe me! I was fucked, so thoroughly fucked. And that crowd outside the apartment had been right there to see it...

I was shaking - and not just because the ambulance kept bouncing madly - the interminable heat transforming into a cold flash.

"It's alright, Alex, just try to relax." I twitched hard, not expecting the asian guy to speak. "You're going to be alright."

No. No, I wasn't.

Someone leaned over from behind me, drawing my attention. He was an older balding dude, though his sparse hair was neat and tidy.

"Okay, Mister Stepanowski, first I need to ask you some questions. Afterward I may be able to start a saline drip with a small dose of something should help."

No, I didn't have any allergies that I was aware of. No, I wasn't on any medication. No, this wasn't something I'd been through before. Playing twenty questions at a time like this? What the fuck?

"Do you remember what happened?"

Shit. Here it comes.

"I... do."

"You do?"

What did I just fucking say?! But I couldn't even nod. "Yeh..."

"Good. Can you tell me about it?"

Motherfucking ponies beat me the fuck up! I was just sitting here, minding my own business, when some bitch of a princess jumps out of thin air and throws me into the wall. I mean, what else could it be?!

All I could do was stare. I had to tell him something! Just not that; I'd look completely and utterly insane!

"No? It's alright." I flinched when he patted my shoulder gently, almost certain he would go for something much more aggressive. "You can tell us when you're good and ready. Right now we'll concentrate on helping you get well."

He held up a needle, mindful of the ambulance's gentle rocking.

Yeah. Great! Sure. Let's stick me full of holes. That'll definitely make things better, I'm...!

That was... unreasonable of me. I was just looking to lash out and he didn't deserve that from me. So I suffered in silence as he did whatever he wanted with my arm, and I tried to distract myself by daydreaming of ripping Luna's head off with my bare hands.

"One minute."

"Got it."

I'd barely lost myself before my keepers ripped me back to reality. How long had it actually been? I had no idea, but the closest hospital wasn't that far away.

At the same time I couldn't help noticing that the twinge in my back was growing muted, so whatever they'd given me must be working. I tried shifting my again, noting the strength of the feeling and earning another admonition from the guy beside me.

The cabin shuddered faintly and I was pressed against the straps around my head and shoulders. Confirmation of our arrival came from the doors beyond my feet being thrown open by someone I couldn't turn to see. Then everything slid past me and I got a quick sideways view of the nearby street - placid and idyllic with steadfast, over-arching trees and cozy American suburbia. It certainly was an interesting new perspective.

Etherea and I had passed very near here the other night on our way through the old part of town. Had that been only yesterday? It felt like so much longer ago.

I wished she was here-

And just like that I was passing through one doorframe, then another. Flat, uniform colors, bright lights, and rigid, orderly lines replaced the pleasant disorder of the outside natural world. The gentle cacophony of humans and machines working in tandem swallowed up everything else as doors shut somewhere in the distance.

Then there was smell. It was more of an ambience of neat and tidy so strong that it grated on the sinuses. Something in the air at hospitals also left my stomach uncomfortably restless.

Why couldn't they have a medicine for that?

I had time to note some cabinets and a spare bed near what must have been some kind of receptionist - I was facing the wrong way to see - before being pushed a short way down a hall and then around a dizzying turn. A variety of apparatuses I couldn't identify filled every nook and cranny around my periphery. The lighting was somewhat more muted, but that could just have been because of all the extra gadgetry in the way; coiled cords, implements of unknown function - some of which looked downright deadly - devices and displays, warning and procedural panels scattered liberally about...

Was I going to be alright? The room looked like it was meant to assemble people from jigsaw pieces.

"So, what's the situation?"

I flinched at the new voice, soft though it was. I couldn't see the doorway so someone else - a guy, by the sound of it - had followed us in.

"His name's Alex," answered the EMT lady. "Something threw him into a wall and now he's experiencing pain in his back, right-hand side, around the fourth to sixth rib about three inches off his spine. Suspect some kind of trauma to the ribs themselves. Otherwise it's mostly minor cuts and scrapes."

Damnit! I can't see! Who's there, behind me?

"He's also very anxious."

Thank you, Captain Obvious? Of course I am! Life is in the midst of...

Or would it be Princess Obvious?

Princess... Princess... Fucking Luna; I was going to get her back, somehow.

Some lady with narrow, square glasses and dark hair poking out from under a silly blue hairnet appeared in front of me and leaned down. Her lips were moving and I could hear something. Wait, I should be paying attention.

"...go through the same checks that our first responders did earlier. I'll be able to figure out what's hurting and how to fix it. Do you understand?"

She paused, apparently expecting something.

Oh, wait, that was for me. "Uh, yeah. I'm Alex," I finally said, voice still distorted by the mask that had been put on me.

"Good. I need you to do something for me, Alex." Her tone was gentle but brooked no disagreement. "I want you to try to relax, alright?"

Yeah. Sure. Ponies are invading, everyone would think I'm insane if I said anything, and I'm supposed to relax?

But she was the doctor, apparently. That meant I had to listen.

What followed was a controlled whirlwind of mildly invasive and thoroughly embarrassing - for me - poking and prodding. She did literally everything the EMTs had done, but she did it more, with no nook or cranny around me left unexplored by her gloved hands. My mask was lifted off at some point and the stethoscope came out again for several more minutes of careful testing of my torso.

At least it felt like several minutes; I'm sure I wasn't the best judge.

And then with nary a how-do-you-do, I was carted off again by several more people I didn't recognize. I knew I was supposed to do something, but being half-naked, harshly immobilized, and surrounded by all these strange people had forced my task right from my head. Something about the speed of my heartbeat focused my attention though I couldn't be sure why.

I went through another opening, heading - as far as I could tell - deeper into the bowels of the hospital. A glimpse was all I had of another, more bare room with a multi-jointed armature hanging from the ceiling near one wall, with another otherwise blank one dominated by a raised flat white section. It was like some mad scientist's projector room.

Oh, wait, no. This was for x-rays.

Now that I really wanted to lose myself in a good movie too...

The IV stand had to go off to one side as one attendant brought over some kind of rolling cabinet that had been in a corner. My job? Try to be patient as they alternated maneuvering the armature into various poses around me and then retreating to somewhere in the distance.

I had vague hopes that the x-rays would tell them they could let me up soon because this whole board thing under me was becoming uncomfortable. It's not like I was in pain, or anything, but I could tell that moving would relieve a feeling in my joints that was hard to pin down. However, the people here had other ideas; back to the exam room!

Or... an exam room. It wasn't quite the same as the first, sporting more cabinetry and counters but less gadgetry.

"...ex."

What? Oh, that had been my name. I forced myself to focus on the face not far from my own. I was pretty sure she was the lady from the last exam room.

"Doctor Gourley should be along shortly with the results of your x-rays. It may still be some time so just be patient. I'm going to be right here though," she set a hand on my shoulder so gently that I had to double check that it was actually there, "so just let me know if you need anything."

More sympathy for me? Internally I recoiled at her pity. Externally I just tried to nod. Wait, I did want something.

"Can I get out?" Close enough.

Her sad little smile was telling. "Sorry, but we need to wait on the doctor to review your x-rays first." That didn't stop her from moving around behind me and doing her job, picking over my back and cleaning every little nick and ding. It was strange how each little swab should have stung but didn't.

Her preoccupation left me with my thoughts again and all I could do while waiting for the prognosis was review the events of the day and try not to shiver too badly. It wasn't that I was cold. It was just so fucking unfair that something that had started so well should end so... so...

Again words failed me. I'd have berated them too if I could have.

But in the interim all I was left with was the vague feeling that someone must have be out to get me. Luna, are you listening in on this?

I fully expected the non-answer I got.

The wait gave me far too much time to think. How bad was it going to be? How screwed was I? How could...

I had to get away from those kinds of topics; all they were doing was jacking up my blood pressure. But I just couldn't stop from thinking about how much Luna had fucked me over. Me, my computer, my room, Craig, the building... Etherea. I ran and reran the evening through my head, trying to come up with a reason for it all.

Somehow I deserved this, I just couldn't exactly pin down why.

My keeper - nurse? - had retreated to sit by a corner of one counter to do paperwork long before the door cracked open again. At least I was in a position to catch that. In walked a short, slender bald man and an even more skinny guy in pale green scrubs. Dark skinned with brown eyes and seemingly on the cusp of middle aged, his baldness was clearly from care, not happenstance. The pristine white coat and clipboard marked him as a measure above everyone else in the room.

He started by looking me in the eyes. "Hello Mister Stepanowski, I'm Doctor Gourley."

No, duh! He missed the glare I tried to send as he examined whatever was on his clipboard, his lips tightening slightly.

"So, Alex, the good news is that it looks like nothing is actually broken." The good doctor strode to a section of wall hosting not cabinets, but a wide and thin expanse of faintly translucent white. With a click it lit up and he pulled several dark sheets out from the packet under his clipboard, sliding them into the brackets lining the top edge.

It had been a long time since I'd seen the inside of my ribs. And yet, not long enough somehow.

"Here and here," he laid a finger on two otherwise unremarkable lengths of white, "on your fourth and sixth ribs there are minor stress cracks. From blunt force trauma, I assume. It's not generally a very serious injury," he turned to look me in the eyes, "at least not with proper treatment, but neither is this something to take lightly. These kinds of injuries can easily complicate. Are you certain you are feeling no other pain elsewhere?"

Nothing like that. I tried to shake my head dumbly and was stopped by the straps.

Okay, I was sick of this; I needed out!

He inclined his head, apparently taking my response at face value as he turned back to the illuminated wall. "The primary concern will be pain management. Injuries such as this tend to prompt people to take extra care that's actually detrimental. There is no possibility of bracing and-" he tapped the dark area representing my right lung, "-we need you breathing normally, sleeping normally, and moving normally, though with some cautionary measures. I'll provide you with a suitable prescription some guidelines for the types of activities you can and should still engage in. Any questions?"

"N-no." That did sound easy enough.

A thought broke through the mud inside my head. "Actually..."

Doctor Gourley raised his eyes attentively.

"I'll be on a weight restriction, won't I?"

"Yes. No heavy lifting."

My boss was going to kill me. Perhaps twice.

"... you up shortly." Oh, he was talking again? Yet his head was down as he scribbled something far too quickly on the clipboard. It looked like he had a classic case of 'doctor illegibility.' "I bet you'll feel much better after that. So, let's get you un-trussed and see if you're up for moving on your own."

I'd lived through the occasional pinched nerve so I was sure that I could do it. Especially if they were going to dope me up on something. As the second orderly begin unclasping straps and removing the soft blocks hemming me in I had to laugh; now I knew what it was like to be a package getting unwrapped!

That netted me some looks. So no laughing, Alex - even if something seems funny - because it just makes you look crazy.

I'd been lying with my right side in the air, one arm covering it, and, though the telltale pricks of pain were all but muted, I wasn't just about to sit up in that direction. Like the doctor had said about complications, I didn't know what flexing those muscles would do to me. The attendants must had the same idea so rolling me onto my back became the order of business, if a quick one.

Moving, even with whatever they'd given me and using completely different muscle groups, just felt... off. Thank God both the orderlies helped me because the additional stability was very welcome.

Even if I still hated the situation. Being a helpless invalid was just wrong.

Once I was upright and stable? Yeah, I liked that a lot more.

"How do you feel?" The doctor set a hand on my shoulder as he looked me in the eyes seriously.

"Better, actually." Though I made sure to keep completely still.

That got the first smile I'd seen from him, small though it was. "Good. We'll get you going in just a second here."

He again verified that I wasn't going to fall apart right then and there. I could have told him I wouldn't but I wasn't getting off that easy; it wouldn't have been nearly as much fun for him.

Getting moving afterward was actually a relatively simple matter. So was donning the backless smock-gown-thingy they always made patients wear. With my attendees bracketing me closely and my IV tagging along I was allowed to amble my way out the door and down the hall. A look backward showed a kind of low level bustling and that we seemed to be heading out of the section. I could hear more activity than I saw, and that which I could wasn't exactly full of hurry though neither was it languid.

Like a hospital, go figure.

Which meant that I was shambling like an invalid past other people I didn't know, and generally being in the way when some of these people had important places to be. I picked up the pace. Surprisingly it wasn't that bad... Except for being nearly naked with my skivvies bared to the world through the rear of my patient's garb was another insult to lay at Luna's... hooves.

"So, Alex, how did this happen exactly?"

The doctor's inevitable question, no matter how misleadingly gentle, was a highly unwelcome surprise. I managed to not stumble as all my defenses shored themselves up. How to dissuade him from...

"Extensive surface contusions and abrasions like you have makes me think you suffered a fall, but the first responders reported finding you inside a building where you couldn't possibly have."

"I..."

He was looking over at me now - placidly expectant.

"I can't." From his perspective the truth would seem absolutely insane. "I just-"

I struggled to not fidget anxiously while he silently contemplated me.

"It's okay if you need some time. I just want you to know that you're in a safe place and we will help you however we can. But to do our best we'll need you to tell us what happened. Would you be able to do that for me?"

All I could do was shake my head and even that took a moment. His sour expression told me he wasn't altogether happy about it.

At least my destination wasn't too far; after heading up a level and over a short ways the doctor led us into a room with a window, though the blinds were drawn. It wasn't another exam, surgery, x-ray, or even an interrogation room. It had an honest-to-Paladine bed, even if it had been bracketed by an assortment of metallic parts that turned it into the Swiss Army Knife of beds. On the wall across from it was a TV on a shelf, a door by the entrance led to a bathroom which was little more than a cubby, and there was even a runner for a privacy curtain arcing across the ceiling over the bed.

And of course there were the cabinets. What hospital room wouldn't be complete without an overabundance? Though all in all the room was pretty bare.

"Alright, Mister Stepanowski, here we are. It's getting somewhat late and we would like to keep you under observation for at least tonight to make sure there are no hidden injuries we may have missed. You'd be surprised what some people overlook until after the adrenaline wears off." He gave me half a smile.

If that was his attempt at levity then I wanted a different comedian.

He did some perfunctory flipping of sheets on his clipboard, scanning through them. "Sam here will get you comfortable and doctor Innis will be along shortly to introduce herself."

When I gave him a look he continued, "I'm on rotation in the emergency wing, and since you're out of the water you're being assigned to one of the regular attendings."

Oh. I guess that made sense.

True to his word, Sam, the orderly, helped me around the room. There wasn't much to do since I'd had so little with me, and I used the excuse of the bathroom to hide myself away. Here I was in a hospital, injured and surrounded by strangers. As if that wasn’t bad enough, I didn't have Craig, Dimble, or Etherea to keep me company. I didn't have my computer - it's continued existence still in question - nor my phone so I couldn't even reach out to friends or family. Or my boss.

Fuck! He was going to be so upset.

The world was still weirdly fuzzy and I was more cut off than I could remember ever being, yet, for my own sake, had even more need to not be. The tiny bathroom provided four good walls and no way for angry ponies or irate cops to bother me. Knowing that the walls really wouldn't stop either of them kept me in their all the same.

Doctor Innis was less than happy at finding me rather blatantly hiding, though she - a short, middle-aged brunette with prominent eyebrows - was more worried than anything. She tried It was some consolation, miniscule though it was, that she came bearing the promise of some long-delayed food.

I bolted upright as something shifted nearby, back ramrod straight and eyes flicking around. A shape peeled itself from the shadows around the doorway and my heart surged forward, betraying my excitement. Etherea?

No. Silvery armor surrounded the lithe form.

The head lifted and slitted teal eyes - Luna's - met mine. A chill washed over me. It couldn't end this way!

My eyes snapped open to a different sound. Blurry white dominated in front of me but a wide splotch of light beige showed in the near distance. Where...?

I did a quick mental check, running through what I remembered. Oh, right, I was in a hospital because Luna had fucked me over yesterday, and this was my room. This also wasn't the first time I'd jolted awake. In fact, it had happened far too often for me to count, yet despite spending so much of the night terrorizing myself I had kept falling back asleep. I guess I was just that exhausted.

I mean, it's not like I could keep from expecting Luna ominously walking in through the door, or stepping free from one of the shadows, or even dropping through the window - miraculously passing right through the glass. She could just pop out wherever she felt like it!

That none of that had happened didn't actually reassure me.

The return of the twinges in my side, accompanying specific movements and every breath, had done their part as well. It wasn't what I would call 'painful,' but I'd still been forced onto my left side.

An orderly had checked on me at some point, though I'd continued to feign sleep. I could live with some discomfort if it allowed me to avoid certain uncomfortable questions.

"Mister Stepanowski? Time to get up." The voice was gentle and feminine.

Oh... The sound I'd woken to was the click of a door opening.

"Mmmm?" It was the best I could manage on such short notice.

Somewhere nearby blinds were pulled and all the little blurs nearby got brighter.

"How are you feeling this morning," she asked, coming closer to the foot of my bed. "Are you in any pain?"

"Not if I don't move."

"Oh, no! Well, I have good news then: the painkillers they gave you last night should be fully out of your system now so we can get you on your prescription." Well, didn't she sound chipper? It was too early for this kind of shit. "We're going to start you on something small to see how your body reacts. It'll help and it should be much less disorienting. But you'll have to get up first."

Yup. She sounded like a morning person who knew they'd unearthed a not-morning person before ten o'clock - literally the worst kind of person. After Luna-kinds of people.

Or maybe it was just my lack of sleep talking; it was hard to tell. I'd gotten what? Three, maybe four hours?

"My names, Beth, by the way. How about we get you up and started."

She was a blonde on the pudgy side of cute. Cute - as in adorable - with a button nose, round face, and ringlets framing her head. Not my preferred type, but I knew a couple friends who'd tease me to strike up a conversation with her.

But the miseries resurfacing were saying 'fuck off' to that. I didn't feel like getting up because that meant facing them. Yet trying to stay wrapped up and in bed wasn't any better; with no real chance of overcoming sleep's elusiveness all I would be doing was boring myself. Well, that and fuming.

Either way, the day was just determined to start out sucky. Maybe I should bring Limp Bizkit in on this one too.

She was kind enough to key the head section of my bed more upright, and my torso with it, like some reverse recliner. Though she followed that with a cursory once-over before retrieving Doctor Innis, who gave me another exam.

Because clearly, if they didn't all personally check me, I was going to just up and break, or something.

Though their side of things was helped by the fact that the increased pressure on my back was just that much more uncomfortable. I was just glad that they decided to give me my contacts back before doping me up on anything.

As helpless as I felt - Seriously, fuck that noise! - I was more than happy to finally accept a pill and a paper cup of water from Beth. I did like a good little boy and followed her instructions and promised to report on every little thing I was feeling as the medicine went to work.

Would I get nauseous? What about sleepy or loopy? Maybe something nobody could predict! It was like the world's most demented lottery!

Did I mention fuck Luna?

All I knew was that I kept expecting to feel something, but because I didn't know what I was looking for there was no telling whether any particular thing was the medication. Was my stomach tight because of that, or was that just omnipresent fear? I couldn't tell.

What I could say for certain was that I was damned hungry.

Unfortunately Beth and Innis had excused themselves, promising to be nearby, and were taking far too long to return. I felt I was doing alright with the medication, but spending a half an hour propped up had done no favors to my back. That warranted another half a pill when Beth checked on me. Too bad she probably had nothing for jittery nerves.

An hour after waking I was finally allowed food, which did leave me feeling physically better, at least. However, my gift for me being a cooperative was more boredom. No one to talk to, no computer - Fuck you, Luna! - no phone, no internet...

Just me and the TV.

Sometime later, near the tail end of yet another car commercial, the door clicked and swung open. I tensed, ready to bolt, having been glancing toward the door periodically and dreading seeing a pony coming in to finish the job. Stupid, I know, since they didn't need to use the doors.

Though how I would have managed any kind of escape in my state was anyone's laughable guess.

But it was just Doctor Innis again. She motioned behind herself. "Mister Stepanowski, I believe you've met Corporal Reichelt."

Shit. The cop from last night was here too!

He had the same intimidating official hat, though he set it aside on the table-counter-thing just beside the door.

"Yeah," I said quietly.

He wasn't the only one to walk through that door, either. Practically on his heels was a middle-aged man with dark skin just a hair off from being 'ashen.' The second guy's hair and beard were cut short and neat, but his business suit failed to hide a gut that could have used more care. He took up a spot to one side near a random cabinet.

"Alex, how are you doing today?" The corporal was apparently yet another goddamned morning person. "Better, I hope."

"Yeah." My mind took off, trying to anticipate what damage I'd have to control and leaving the rest of me on guarded standby.

"That's good to hear. You were a bit out of it last night or I would have stayed longer to chat." Oh, good, one of these clowns. "This is Detective Neiman with me."

The darker-skinned man tipped his head toward me as he produced a notepad. "Mornin', Alex." He sounded like a smoker, his voice on the cusp of being grating.

Reichelt edged back in, "The hospital has filled us in concerning your injuries but we still have a number of questions. If you don't mind, we would like to hear your statement about what happened."

Oh, I did. Very much. Though on the outside I just watched, trying to remain visibly calm.

Doctor Innis shifted, adopting an easy pose that allowed her to look in askance at the corporal, who looked up in turn. "If I may, what do you know about how he came by his injuries? They're mostly consistent with a fall from some height, but what I've heard contradicts that."

The corporal looked up first but it was the detective who answered, his face unreadable. "That's actually why we're here. We don't yet have all of the details."

I shivered at his brilliant non-answer. I could see the proverbial chopping block looming, and the fact that the corporal asked that the doctor excuse herself only made me less willing to stay. But at the same time this was a cop. I wasn't going to be going anywhere, and looking for an escape like some madman was a Bad Idea.

What would also give the wrong impression? Hunching sullenly from fear and embarrassment. So, sitting upright awkwardly it was!

Corporal Reichelt - I could remember his name through a slowly growing haze of distress only because of the tag on his chest - pulled a chair from the side and sat. Oddly enough, his expression softened again as his blue eyes locked onto mine.

The detective opted to lean against a cabinet.

"Alright, Alex, I know this has been frightening, but would you be able to tell us what happened yesterday afternoon?"

I was staring an oncoming Mack truck in the headlights. The events of yesterday, which I'd been trying to leave in the back of my mind and not to worry too much about, rose to the fore again. I could lay out the entire situation from beginning to end. I could explain how aliens had come to and trashed a random apartment on the edge of United States suburbia. I could also tell him how these aliens apparently featured almost wholesale in some popular children's entertainment.

And then I would head straight to the Looney Bin without passing Go.

The only thing I could do was look down and shake my head, my throat clenched tight.

"Mister Stepanowski." I didn't look up. I couldn't; not after he switched away from my first name. "We can't help if we don't know what happened."

A pause.

"If someone else did this to you, we can only stop them from doing it again if you tell us what you know about them."

The phrasing wasn't lost on me. If I told him that it had indeed been someone else's fault... But that led straight to the question of who was. I could distract by making some shit up, but that would probably just lead to being caught in an actual lie.

The detective's head tilted. "Mister Stepanowski-" Of course I wasn't going to get time to think! "-who is the woman with the blue hair?"

Shit!

My head snapped up, eyes straining. They knew about Etherea! But... how? Fear ramped up into horror and strangled anything I might have said.

The detective's expression was calm but there was an intensity behind his eyes. "Several witnesses at your apartment complex report seeing you returning yesterday afternoon with a woman who had blue hair. Given other statements, it sounds like you've seen her several times. Who is she?"

When I didn't immediately answer he continued, "Do you know where she is?"

Equestria. A fucking fictional, made-up land of happiness, rainbows, and sunshine. Honest, officer, it's the truth!

I let my head drop again, clenching my eyes and trying to settle the buzzing of nerves from all over my body.

The corporal's voice cut in, "Was she involved in what happened?"

It wasn't that I was ignoring the question; I just couldn't find a response that wouldn't lead to a worse follow-up.

"Given the evidence at the scene, it almost looks as though a bomb was-"

What?! "A b-bomb-b...?"

Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck! If they thought a bomb had gone off... Images of terrorists celebrating the deaths of their victims leapt from my imagination and were closely tailed by the knowledge of what the government did in response.

"Yes, Mister Stepanowski," the detective inserted himself again, "the debris pattern and-"

"Wasn't a bomb!"

That shut the detective right up. The corporal's expression twitched though, twisting at my interruption before lightening slightly.

"Okay, that's a good start. It wasn't a bomb. Fireworks maybe?"

"N-no."

The detective looked down to scribble something more before asking somewhat more quietly, "Drugs?"

I managed a stiff head shake, realizing what they were doing. Eventually they'd run out of reasonable possibilities and I'd get caught in the 'lie.'

The good corporal began again, "How about-"

"It..."

He stopped expectantly. Where was I even going with this?

"I can't," I whispered, slumping.

Silence stretched between us, growing more tense the longer it lingered. I couldn't believe I was trying to pull a silent act on the cops. I was a good, cooperative citizen. But telling them about magical alien ponies...

After a moment of studiously not looking at them I heard someone shuffle their feet. A quiet cough-like grumble came from the direction of the detective and I looked up.

Both had ominously neutral expressions, but it was the corporal who opened his mouth. "Tell you what, Mister Stepanowski, why don't we give you some time to think on it? As much as I'd like to know what happened yesterday, I can tell that this is very distressing. You are safe here, we will be sure of that-"

I wasn't fooled! They could also keep a close eye on me!

"-and sometimes a little rest is the best way to clear our heads. We'll come back later and, after you've had some time to relax, we can start again fresh. Alright?"

Again, I didn't really have a choice in the matter; he was just being polite.

Still, I managed a jerky nod. He responded with a much more steady one of his own before rising and retrieving his hat.

The detective led the way out, holding the door for the corporal. "Take care, Mister Stepanowski."

For some reason his well-wishing was surprisingly gentle.

The corporal also paused at the door but I couldn't meet his eyes, wishing he'd leave already and let me be miserable on my own.

"We're here to help, Alex, but we need to know what happened."

I couldn't tell how long I sat there with my head down after he left, the dim ambient noise of the hospital playing a poor companion. He knew about Etherea. Of course he did; we hadn't even tried to be stealthy when we'd gone out. How stupid could I have been? Now she'd been seen, and for what?

As if things weren't bad enough, now the police were going to investigate a fictitious person, and one who could only end up being labeled missing. And I couldn't say a thing about her either; she was a pony!

My destructive inward spiral was interrupted by a gentle knock at the door and I did my best to jump without moving. The door opened, admitting the doctor again, before I could even think about questioning who was there.

"I hope you and the corporal were able to clear some things up."

She paused but I just watched her. Eventually something kick-started in my head and I gave an almost imperceptible shake of my head.

Her frown was telling. "Well, regardless of anything else that's going on-" She fired a glance toward the door. "-we'll do everything we can to help. I just wanted to stop by and see that everything was alright."

There was only one thing I could think about: getting away.

"When can I go home?"

Wait... My apartment was wrecked. Where would I go?

"Well..." She took a deep breath and let it slowly out, her lips twisting thoughtfully. "Should be soon. Normally an injury of this type doesn't require much hospital stay."

A wan smile flashed across her face. "I also wanted to let you know that I'm off for the day. A wonderful gentleman by the name of Doctor Harrington will be taking over for now, and should be by in a little while to say hello. In the mean time-" She leveled the butt of her pen at me, though her tone remained bright. "-you rest up. Healing those ribs will go faster with a little bit of care."

I nodded again, which was beginning to feel like a bad habit.

Which meant I got my wish. I was alone with the TV again and, it being a terrible conversationalist, left me with only myself to talk to. It didn't go well. I'd been reminded that Luna hadn't just wrecked my stuff, she'd also damaged the actual apartment. What was I going to do about that?! How long would it take to fix?

Drywall repairs, recalcitrant landlords, long term stays in hotels hemorrhaging out even more money... It all swirled about inside my head like some awful rerun. If only...

If only what? I hadn't met Etherea?

I wasn't sure I wanted that either.

Another knock at my door sometime later forced me to sit up and smooth the covers I'd disturbed. I wasn't sure why I bothered, though it seemed to help me organize myself.

When nothing else happened for a long moment I hesitantly called, "Yeah? Come in."

A somewhat pudgy attendant with dark hair and a too-serious expression poked his head in. "Mister Stefan- Stepanowski, a visitor for you."

Who...?

He eased aside as much as he could, holding the door as a tall, skinny man with unruly hair and a faint lip curl edged into the room.

I'd recognize that flannel shirt and expression anywhere! Craig!

Wait... The cops had already been here, and they'd certainly been at my apartment, so how was Craig here? They wouldn't just have let him loose, would they? Great, more things that didn't make any sense.

I still beat him to the punch though, voicing more pep than I felt. "Hey, man!"

"Yo. How you feelin'?" He strode over in turn, casually shrugging off a backpack onto the floor. He then slapped a hand into mine and we shook once. "Don't look like you're about to kick it."

"No, I'm not. Not that I don't feel like it anyways." I couldn't stop a shudder and a deep grimace. But the distraction took my eyes off Craig and let me note the absence of the attendant.

"You... You alright after..." I dropped my volume as low as I felt he could hear. "...last night?"

I still couldn't quite piece together what had happened to him. Given the state I'd been in it was all a bunch of dissociated blurs. Not that I could just ask him; someone might hear. Wait, he might blurt it out anyways! It's not like he was known for his discretion.

His eyes flicked over his shoulder to the closed door and just like that his signature smile was gone. "I, uh, I... Yeah. I'm alright. That..."

With a short, vehement shake of his head he closed his eyes and dropped his butt onto the edge of my bed. A hand came up to stroke through and pull at his hair.

How could I say anything without actually saying anything that might be overheard?

"Did... did you see?"

His eyes were haunted and distant when they met mine again. "Y-you are alright, right?"

He must have seen. "Yeah. I'll be okay." I raised my right arm, stretching that side. "These painkillers are good."

"Painkillers?" He blinked, his brow creasing.

"Two cracked ribs. I'm, uh, going to be taking them for a while."

Several expressions flitted across his face too quickly to properly form. He paused with his mouth open and expression vacant, almost thinking harder than I'd ever seen. When he came back it was to put his head down in his hands.

"God. Oh, God, what're we gonna' do man? This is so fucked." I shuddered in sympathy at his tone. "We can't say a fucking word, and... and-"

He stopped cold, going stiff. Again, he shook his head, staring through the far wall.

Something popped into my head. "Wait, what about Dimble? Have you seen him?"

"Your cat?" I could almost have laughed at his sudden confusion. "Uh, I've got him. Found him out under the couch. Hotel wasn't too happy about having a cat, but I guess the cops told them off, or something. Dunno.' Didn't really have anywhere else to put him."

I breathed a sad little chuckle, smiling faintly as I was able to shelve away one horror. I would have loved to drop Dimble off with Tristan and Shawn like I did any time I went on vacation, but that was a forty five minute drive and it was unlikely Craig had had the chance.

"Oh, good! Good. Good... When I saw what... what had happened to my computer-" Fuck you, Luna! "-I was so worried. It's... How bad was it, really?"

Internally I cringed, regretting the question as Craig stared blankly at me for a moment.

"Really bad," he said quietly. Too quietly for who he was. "Dude, the place is torn up like bad. We had cops and firefighters and dogs and shit in there." His voice was steady and eerily distant. "People were poking around everywhere and kept just askin' and askin'."

He continued, sing-song, still looking at nothing in particular, "'What's this, what's that? What happened? Who did this? And this, and this, and this...'" After a deep breath he continued in a slightly more normal, if shaky, tone. "Fuck, man. I had to tell so many of them that I'd nothin' to say. I couldn't get them to stop askin'! They'd've thought I'd gone fucking nuts if I'd said anything-" Oh, thank God he hadn't! "-but I... I..." His eyes went to the door and mine followed.

"I can't. I don't wanna' be locked up, but..." his head came back around to me. "What're we gonna' do, man?"

This was on me? Of course it was! "I... I don't know. I really don't."

It almost physically hurt to say that but, as much as I tried, I didn't have anything else. What little atmosphere we'd built died, leaving a jittery silence hanging about the room, stretching and stretching until it was more a facet of reality than just a feeling. I couldn't have helped it! The only way out was to give the cops something. But what?

I stared at my feet through the intervening covers.

What could have happened to cause that kind of damage to a room that wasn't a bomb? Well, something that wasn't outright a dangerous explosive - we didn't want them chasing fireworks either. Something compressed and released...

A can of air? Too small. Maybe one of those larger canisters like those for helium?

No. There wasn't any debris!

So we needed a high explosive without any residue or container. Somehow I doubted that the cops would put up with suggesting of marsh gas.

All I could do was chuckle distressingly. It was hopeless because none of the evidence would make any sense! We were so-

"Hey."

Had Craig come up with something?!

"I almost forgot. Your boss called." He leaned away from me to slip and hand into a pocket and extract a familiar smooth black shape.

Of course Craig didn't have an answer for the important question! Why would I ever...?

I stopped before I could fully direct my ire on yet another who didn't deserve any of it. If I ever got my hands on Luna...

But all of that was an aside. "Of course he did."

Craig's shrug was slight and rueful. "Yeah, he wasn't happy. You should let him know what's up. Also, you should..." He gave me an odd, very direct look before glancing down at the phone as he passed it over.

What was that about?

He just watched with barely an expression as I turned my phone over, inspecting it. Except for a couple additional new dings in its edges it was surprisingly hale for having been on my desk last night. Waking it up revealed nothing out of the ordinary either.

Oh, wait. I had messages. A chill flashed through me. With shaking fingers I navigated through to my list of new ones. There! One was from an unknown source.

Etherea! It had to be!

The tendons of my fingers stood in sharp relief as my hands did their best to compress my phone from both ends. She might be able to help, but if it hadn't been for her I wouldn't be in this fucking mess! If she hadn't come to Earth...! If she hadn't landed in my living room...! If she'd just gone home-

I barely pulled the throw so my phone only went as far as my feet. It was both mine and far too expensive to waste in some stupid outburst. Though that left me with no way to vent so I had to just swallow my feelings. I needed Etherea to get me out of this situation but that didn't mean I wanted to talk to her.

"You're not going to...? Dude?"

Craig had twisted halfway around to track the phone's flight but came right back to me. I just shook my head, unwilling to voice anything until after I calmed my roiling feelings.

"Oh... Well, um." His eyes roamed around, avoiding me.

"Don't worry about it," I said flatly. "Just upset."

He nodded slowly. "Yeah. I get it. So... Whatcha' been up to in here? They giving you anything to do?"

"Heh," I snorted. "Not a damned thing. TV's useless this early in the day but it's all I got."

"Well, I brought you, uhhh... You know." He glanced toward the end of the bed. "And some other stuff you probably needed. Clothes and contact stuff and shit."

Actually, the hospital had been kind enough to provide, but having my stuff would be nice.

"Also brought your earbuds and one of your books, just in case. They didn't let me get much."

"Hey, thanks." I gave him a wan smile, trying to buoy what little happiness his consideration had given me.

"Thought about gettin' you something from the box in my closet. Y'know, in case you got really bored, but I didn't know how much chance you'd get."

And there was old Craig again. An offhand comment about the collection of porno mags he oddly insisted on keeping was just so normal - a good kind of casual.

It was good to have him here. It helped me know that I wasn't crazy, no matter how much the events of the past few days might say otherwise, and having someone else who understood, even if they didn't say it, was probably just what I needed. The anger and shame were still there, and I could sense them lurking in the far reaches waiting, but with Craig to distract me I was free for the moment. Sure, we didn't talk about much, and there were long pauses, but it wasn't about the things we said. It was the companionship, pure and simple.

He knew, even if he was also awfully evasive, and so did I. So, camaraderie more than anything.

We avoided talking about what to do, which was probably a terrible idea. The painfully apparent truth was that neither of us had any solutions.

At some point a different attendant poked his head in the door. Apparently someone had begun worrying about the lack of a lunch order from my room. It's not like I'd been told that that was a thing.

I couldn't remember if I'd just forgotten, which was certainly possible.

Like most everything else had been of late the meal passed sullenly. If anything, things were even more awkward afterward because there just wasn't anything to say.

"So, man, there's a party next weekend."

My head popped up; that was really random of him.

"You'll be out by then, right?"

If the cops don't lock me away. In lieu of that answer I just nodded.

"Cool! Cool... You're comin' along then. We'll get so drunk that we'll think that there really are... Um. We'll get fucking hammered."

Yeah, I knew what he'd left out. But, fuck it.

"I'll even hit on a few girls." I did my best to grin cockily, though it was definitely easier said than done.

In the end is was Doctor Harrington that broke things up. He, a man of medium height and sporting a short and very neat beard - doctor, go figure - popped in to see how I was doing. It's not like Craig fled, or anything, but when the doctor suggested a quick going-over to make sure - again! - that I was doing alright, Craig was awfully quick to capitalize on the faint possibility of cute nurses elsewhere in the hospital.

Another session of pokes and prods, short as it was, was followed by an even longer series of questions about my health and my feelings on it.

Truth be told, things were a bit fuzzy. Actually, it was more like there was a short delay between things happening and me registering them - like lag in a computer game. It didn't seem to be an actual thing that was wrong, but concentrating made the feeling stand out all the more.

It was going to take some getting used to. The doctor didn't seem to think it much of a problem, just that my dosage should be dialed back.

My ability to stay still after he left was quickly subsumed under the need to do something. As if things weren't bad enough, now I was also bored.

Standing up on my own proved to be easier than I'd thought - I couldn't tell that anything was wrong with my ribs - but the feeling of distance from my environment multiplied. I tested it by reaching out to the nearby cabinet/nightstand combo that held the room's clock.

Yeah, this 'lag' was something I'd have to be careful with. It felt like I wasn't quite where I actually was, so it would be difficult to react to things even when I was concentrating. It probably wouldn't bother me in the slightest at the moment, but I could really hurt myself.

So I padded my way to the bathroom slowly and steadily, picking up the backpack as I passed. It was so nice to be in a fresh pair of jeans and everything - like I was myself again - though I left the shirt off just in case. Like hell I'd risk the staff cutting another one off me!

Wandering around the room proved to be no more fun than sitting in the bed, and the view outside was less than stellar. I just wasn't that into parking lots. Also, the sun was far too bright despite the assorted clouds hanging around - far too cheerful in my opinion. Someone should really just shut it the fuck off, or something.

My wanderings eventually took me back to the foot of the bed. After all, despite my reluctance, there were some things I really should do. The message on my phone, for instance, though I spent longer than I cared to admit just staring it down. My mind played every card it had, trying to convince me that it wasn't what I feared, but the other choice was to call my boss and try to explain why I was suddenly breaking my promise to be there, at work.

Well, when put that way...

Regardless of my resolve my fingers still shook, a rising core of nervousness alternately heated and cooled my skin. This was it; copy the message, send Google to find the translation site, plug in the mysterious characters, and...

Alex? I hope this reaches you. I did not see much but it looked like Princess Luna was really hurting you. Please tell me you are well.

No explanation and no reasoning. I wanted to interpret what she was and was not saying from the other end of the screen, but how could I know how heavily she'd edited her thoughts to end up with just that. At least she seemed to be okay.

I slapped down the anger rising in the wake of that thought.

Unfortunately the rest of my thoughts and feelings resisted being organized into something I could express. It was fresh frustration with that situation that broke the stalemate and sent my fingers flying indelicately around the keyboard.

Well? Fuck no! Luna broke two ribs...now I'm in the hospital...my room's trashed, my computer destroyed, we're out of an apartment for I dunno how long Now I gotta pay for an ambulance, hospital, treatment, and shit...I can't wrok and I dont have any kind of insurenance for what she might've done to the BUILDING! you all can just all fuck off and die!

White hot anger roiled, making my hands quiver. Though my message exactly reflected how I felt, I couldn't send it. It was just wrong, somehow.

With a few calming breaths I was able to get enough control to delete the last sentence.

Luna can go fuck herself, I tacked on the end. There; redirected to the one who deserved it.

But the message didn't go through. Etherea had somehow managed!

I stabbed the button on the screen again. And again.

Sent.

Okay... How the hell did that work?

Though almost as soon as the message was off I regretted it; it had been a really shitty way to tell Etherea all of that, especially because of how she felt about excremental expletives. Still, she was a grown mare and could handle a little shittiness, especially when the situation warranted.

Like this one did.

Again I stared at the screen in my hands, though I wasn't sure what I expected. Was I really going to just wait for a reply? This was cross-dimensional telecommunication and had already proved unreliable.

In reality I just really didn't want to talk to my boss.

The phone ended up somewhere else on the bed and I flopped onto my back, looking up at the lights and intent on counting the bumps in the ceiling. The problem was that the room wouldn't stop gradually expanding away from me in every direction.

Ugh... I already didn't like painkillers.

Sitting up and doing something was better because, despite the perception lag, it helped distract from how my head felt. But hey, at least the pain was gone, right?

The room's door offered unknown possibilities. I wasn't actually confined me in here, was I?

I snagged the book from the backpack - Robert Jordan's fourth of thirteen. Great, a middle-of-the-series one. Eh, it was better than nothing.

The door proved tricky. Not because the door itself was barred, or anything, but because it meant going outside. The room was more familiar and seemed safer. But out there...? There could be anything!

Even another room like this one!

I chuckled to myself, took a deep breath, and then let it out. And then did it again. There wouldn't be ponies on the other side; the hospital wouldn't sound so normal if there were.

Unless they were all ponies now...

I mentally slapped myself and practically lunged for the knob, determined to do this before I could gainsay myself. Now all I needed to do was find an attendant and ask them if this was allow-

There was a cop a little way down the hall - a black man of medium height with cropped hair - leaning casually against the wall near a drab gray bin of some kind and chatting with a nurse - a short, tanned lady with dirty blonde hair pulled severely into a ponytail. And naturally I failed to go unnoticed. To make matters worse, once seen, I couldn't just duck back into my room without looking even more suspicious. As the cop's steady steps brought him closer my heart climbed its way up into my throat.

"Is there something I can help you with, Mister Stepanowski?" His voice was awfully neutral.

Yeah. I didn't want to think about why there was a cop just hanging around, but the question couldn't go unthought-of.

I sucked in a breath and showed the book in my hand, making a conscious effort to stabilize the raised limb. "Well, I was wondering if there was a lobby or something I could go read in for a while. I... I kinda' just want to get out of this room for a bit."

A moment of thought flickered across his face before he turned and caught the eye of the nurse he'd been talking to. She nabbed one of the omnipresent clipboards before coming over.

"Is there some place in the hospital that Mister Stepanowski can read outside of his room?"

Her head tilted, eyebrows bouncing once. "I guess I don't see why not. There's some space around the nurse's stations down the hall-" she indicated the direction opposite the one she'd come from," -with some chairs. It's more for visitors, but I don't see why he couldn't use it. Just let Patrick know; he's at the desk."

The cop - who rudely had yet to introduce himself! - led and I followed, trying and failing to sort out all that was going on. My perception lag wasn't helping!

But regardless, after a short distance the hallway opened up to a space that intersected with another hallway on its other side, marking the area as some sort of nexus. It was dominated by a curved counter, across from which and lined up against the far wall were a handful of blue chairs. A pudgy, redheaded older man who looked up from behind the counter as we rounded the corner. Behind him were a couple doorways and wall absolutely slathered in charts, schedules, and even more esoteric paperwork.

This was Patrick's domain and, yes, I was allowed to use it to read.

The ambient hubbub of the hospital was a wonderful change in atmosphere. People came and people went, there was conversation, and even if I wasn't a part of whatever was going on, the simple presence of others was comforting. It made it possible to ignore the looming guard and lose myself in the adventures of Rand al'Thor.

Not that the cop actually loomed much - he was surprisingly casual about simply hanging around - but his presence, in uniform, was conspicuous. Since I was allowed to come out and read, I wasn't a prisoner. But neither was I free to come and go, I guess? It was another thing I had to figure out - I knew my rights! - but I did not want to get into that right there, where everyone could overhear.

Yup, let's read about Rand al'Thor; that was a lot easier to handle.

At least Doctor Harrington was happy to see me up and about.

I had re-devoured a good chunk of the book before the call for dinner dragged me back to my room. I'd forgotten that I'd left my phone on the bed when I'd gone out, and seeing it still there brought back a host of things I really didn't want to deal with. Ever, if it could be helped.

But life didn't cater to the whims of one person, and I found another message from Unknown that I contemplated while eating. I'd had more than enough pony to last me a lifetime; it could wait. My boss needed calling, if his rather 'forceful' message - and I was being generous there - was an indication.

It went about as well as I'd expected. None of the answers I could give were ones he wanted to hear. No, I couldn't say what had happened. No, I didn't know how soon I would be back. No, no, no, no... I came away much like I'd expected, having accomplished only renewing my hatred for Luna.

The next question was whether I wanted to call my parents or any friends to let them know what was going on. Especially since having the same goddamned conversation would only end the exact same way. I couldn't tell anyone this shit.

Yeah, I wasn't in the mood for more.

But my dad...

There were voices somewhere outside the room. It wouldn't have been notable except that they were close, didn't seem to be moving, and one sounded like the corporal from earlier. And just like that all the calm I'd collected evaporated.

I had to make a conscious effort to not fidget as my heart rate picked up. I knew he would eventually be back even if I'd really, really hoped he wouldn't. There was still nothing I could tell him and, if anything, talking to Craig had only reinforced that.

The murmur of voices carried on and on for some time. Or maybe my dread just made it seem longer. Then they faded, moving away.

I sat there in cautious silence. They'd actually left? That didn't make any sense. It had sounded like there'd been a few people - more than two. Had the doctor told him off? Or someone else? How? Why? What they'd been saying hadn't been audible so I couldn't confirm a damned thing.

At some point Doctor Innis showed up again, happy to see my progress but asking the same questions as everyone else. I shamefully retreated from her the same way I'd done every other time. Somehow, somewhere, I needed a way to escape from everything - the injury and pain, the ponies, the questions, this very world...

I couldn't though; there was just no way. The possibility that both worlds might come looking for me in the meantime kept me awake long into the night.

The next morning dawned far earlier than I'd ever wanted, and I was unfortunate enough to be awake to see it. I just couldn't shake the feeling that if I ever let my guard down I'd be assaulted by a rampaging alicorn. It had left me darting in and out of sleep like a hermit crab being prodded by a kid at the beach.

Ugh! Even my metaphors were suffering from a lack of sleep.

Even as boring as it was to be stuck in bed with nothing to do, and despite the frequency of my yawns, sleep kept playing elusive. Heck, even the pain wasn't really that bad; mostly just ache that let me know how close my meds were to running out.

It's just that immobility - even self-inflicted - left me with only my thoughts. I had to admit the truth despite how my mind kept trying to dance around it: there was nothing I could do to help myself. I couldn't 'lie' to the cops and 'telling the truth' would just seem like a bigger lie to them. My only hope was ponies and I didn't yet feel like talking to Etherea.

Stupid? Probably. But I couldn't help it; Luna had gone and fucked everything up so fucking...!

Deep breaths, Alex. Calm down. Okay, maybe not too deep.

I was entertaining the possibility that, just to spite me, the princesses - the other ones - might actively be keeping Etherea away when a nurse came in to wake me. It was completely alright! I totally hadn't been hovering on the cusp of dozing again despite my morose thoughts!

"Time to rise and shine, Mister Stepanowski! Did you sleep well?" Perfect... It was the same chipper, cute-pudgy one from yesterday.

"No."

"Oh, well, today's a new day," she continued insufferably.

"No, it isn't."

She frowned and shut up, finishing her tasks around the room far more perfunctorily than she had started. I'd done that to her. It made my heart clench liked I'd kicked a puppy - another thing to feel sorry for.

Breakfast and a shower in their dinky, handhold-laden shower - with the nurse right outside the bathroom door in case - refreshed me but did little to actually help. I was still exhausted and stuck between a rock and a hard place.

Doctor Innis eventually up again; apparently another round of x-rays were needed to verify that I was just as healthy - or not - as I'd been yesterday. So off I went, led back down into the hospital to the same armature-filled room as before. Then more waiting - something I could have done in my own damned room.

It was funny that they were apparently going to let me do just that because it actually wasn't that long before we all trouped back the way we'd come. At least the latest dose of painkillers made me pretty much self-mobile.

The doctor and her current assistant kept close though.

"So, when can I go home?" The thought came unbidden to my lips, and disgust was on its heels. I didn't have a home right now, remember?

"Very soon," the doctor answered gently, oblivious to my desire to retract the question. "Today, in a little bit, I would think."

She spoke up again as the elevator doors opened and let us out. "What? You don't want to stay here longer? I've heard that the beds are quite comfortable."

I peered past my shoulder at her and blinked. Joking at a time like this? Well, it was kind of a nice, normal thing to do.

"You mean you don't test what you do to your patients first?"

"Nope." She kept her eyes forward and face straight. "There's more fun in the mystery."

What? Somehow that didn't sound quite right, but my brain couldn't quite put it together. I felt like I was missing something.

"Plus, I've seen what they do to your food. I wouldn't..." She'd started to grin cheekily, still not looking my way, but it faded into a thoughtful quirk.

"Looks like you've got visitors."

My head jerked around, making me wobble - kind of like Etherea had when she'd done the same thing! - as my expectations gave me hope. There were very few who might visit, especially at this time of the morning, and, though I dreaded further conversations about Sunday night, it still meant a welcome change of pace. And right now anything, even if unpleasant, was better than nothing.

Oddly enough, in that instant, my mind reminded me that I should really call my parents soon.

But it wasn't Craig waiting for me. It wasn't my boss either. Nor was it any of my friends - not that any should even have known.

It was three men: two in khakis with nondescript solid-colored shirts and open blazers, and the last in a tan business coat and slacks. Strangely, it was the first two who made the hair on the back of my neck stand up. Why would anyone wear blazers in this weather?

In fact, the two's expressions remained visibly open and casual even after they spotted and began closing in on my little entourage. That was just too weird, especially since the guy in the suit - an older man with wispy white hair trailing from one side of his head to the other - moved with faint stiffness and was obviously paying attention to the other two. Something was very wrong; cops asking questions were bad enough, but random guys? I knew how all the movies (and books, and afternoon dramas, and video games, and...) went! Their expressions were always just a cover!

I forced myself to not look around like I was trying to escape, no matter how much I wanted to. The hallway seemed to lengthen around me as they drew closer and my heart had to fight harder and harder against a growing pressure in my chest. I know I'd thought it before, but this, here and now, was truly me a deer caught in a truck's headlights.

"Doctor Innis is it?" the one on the right - a man bordering on wiry who had slick black hair and a faint amber tone to his skin - asked as we all came to a stop.

She looked to the man in the suit first though.

"Yes. And who might you be?"

"I'm Special Agent Kent and this is my partner, Special Agent Weiss." He motioned to the somewhat taller, younger man with very short, curled brown hair half a step behind him. Almost as part of the same motion he pulled out a thin, palm-sized flip folder. Open it went, revealing a headshot of Agent Kent, a badge, and...

FBI!

Breathe normally, Alex, just breathe normally.

Agent Kent turned to me, adopting a relaxed pose without breaking the motion he'd used to display and then retract his badge. "You must be Alexander Stepanowski."

My mouth refused to move so I just nodded. This was bad! Really fucking bad!

He nodded back more confidently than I could possibly have managed. "We were hoping you could answer some questions about what happened two days ago."

It took a moment to kick in that they expected an answer. All I could do was nod again; that's the answer they expected, right?

"Great." He looked to the doctor immediately after that simple statement. "I'm assuming that, since he's up and about, that the prognosis is favorable?"

Doctor Innis had been giving the suit-wearing man a level look, one eyebrow lifted ever-so-slightly. He inclined his head back in reply. Only then did she fully face the agent.

"Yes, Mister Stepanowski here is recovering well. His injuries were fortunately not life-threatening."

I know she hadn't really been 'on my side' - or any side, really - but it felt like the doctor was slipping away from me. As minimal as our relationship was, she was still the closest thing to stability that I had here and now. To be losing even that... Please, no.

"Good, good." And I was the focus of his attention again. "We'll let you get properly dressed first-" Gee, thanks... "-and in the mean time there are some questions we need to ask Doctor Innis."

He started to move but paused as something came over him, eyes jumping once between the doctor and me. "He will be alright doing that?"

"Yes, he just has a couple of cracked ribs. Plus, Beth will be there to help him. Just remember that he is recovering..." It didn't feel like much of a threat; not against these guys.

At least she seemed to be still kind of in my corner. It would be nice if she could be there for my impending conversation with these guys.

"Of course. He'll be in good hands. Now, if you'll come this way."

The second agent very conspicuously slowed before picking a position within easy range of my room rather than following his partner.

Beth, in turn, took my elbow and guided my shaky steps to and through my door. She cast a few glances at me while I dazedly let her take the hospital gown and replace it with a shirt and socks from my backpack; I'd at least been allowed to wear my pants since the first evening. Her mouth opened a couple of times before she thought better of it and ducked her head. Because I was occupied with trying not to panic she actually had to do most of the work in maneuvering me into my clothes.

Those guys were FB-fucking-I. I still had no idea how I might convince the cops to step off, much less actual feds. God, now wished I'd bucked up and called my dad last night. He was a lawyer so he'd know what I should do.

I cursed internally as my mind pointed out that, even if I had called him in time, he would probably have also been in over his head; he was just a civil lawyer and those guys were the FBI. And I couldn't have told him much of anything anyways.

His best advice would definitely have been to just spill the beans.

The situation in the hall was much the same when Beth and I exited, with 'tall and brown-haired' still just a few steps down the way, alert eyes immediately latching onto me. That didn't make me feel any less like a criminal being tracked down, or anything...

"Please wait here, Mister Stepanowski. My partner should be back shortly." His somewhat deep voice was devoid of any indication of mood.

It felt like an eternity before the darker-haired agent returned to retrieve us; I spent the time trying to control my breathing.

When we started off, leaving Doctor Innis and the brown-suited man watching us, the dark-haired agent took the lead while the taller one caged me in from behind. Down the hall and away from the nurse's station we went. The elevator took us up before we headed over an enclosed walkway above the road between two of the hospital's buildings. Passing out of the walkway was like entering a different world; the halls, while no less pristine, were somehow less stark. Little bits of wear in and around corners, and darker, slightly worn colors, made the place feel more 'lived in' and hinted that it was somewhat older. But I'd never been to this hospital and could only guess.

I managed to work up enough spit to croak out, "Where are we going?"

The agent whose feet I'd been watching tilted his head to look over a shoulder. "I arranged a more private space for us to talk. We won't be bothered by..."

I tuned him out because my God... I could only imagine that this meant a stereotypical interrogation setup: a blank-walled room with a mirror, solid door, a solitary table with one chair, and one of those searingly-bright hanging lights. And I was going to be stuck in it with these guys!

"I know my rights! You can't confine me without some kind of charge."

The look he gave me - somewhere between surprised and amused - spoke volumes. The only thing I was doing was digging my own hole.

"You think we're going to be holding you here? No, Mister Stepanowski, we're just going somewhere where we can talk more privately."

But was I really free to decline? With an FBI agent in front of me and another behind the answer was obvious. He hadn't even touched my actual issue either. And he'd left the results of this 'conversation' completely open-ended!

I could press the issue... However, trying to remain belligerent would lead to only one result. These were feds; I wouldn't be rid of them until they decided to let go so cooperation was the only way to make this easier.

But I was still trapped because I couldn't provide what they wanted!

For some reason the agent in front of me started glancing backward every now and again. I couldn't make heads or tails of it and it made me shiver every time.

One corner led to another, followed by a pair of push-open doors between two of the building's sections. My expectation that this route led to some basement area remained unrealized. Though, judging by some loose paraphernalia - cabinets full of tools and things, rooms with clearly-labeled shelves of parts, and, yes, even a rolling bucket or two - this was still the 'janitor's closet.' A dark blue door with a small vertical window at head height and bearing the crisp, rectangular discoloration of a recently removed identification plate guarded our destination.

It was both a welcome disappointment and not. There was a cheap metal folding table with a faux wood top and three simple metal chairs with blue cushions and backs - two at one end of the table and the third at the other. I expected something like that. But it was better lit - by a simple set of fluorescent ceiling lights - than I'd envisioned and held no ominous mirror. Judging by all the scuffs, dings, and smudges marking the floor and the bottom half of the walls it looked like they'd simply commandeered some random storage room, even if it had been meticulously emptied of whatever had been within.

Wait… In one corner and against the wall with the door was a camera on a tripod.

"Mister Stepanowski, if you would take a seat." The agent with the slicked hair indicated the chair that sat alone.

Naturally they took the other two chairs, sitting off opposite corners at the other end of the table. I couldn't figure out quite why, but they'd opted to orient the table sideways in the room which placed the door on my right. Was it some sadistic taunt, luring me into thinking I had a chance if I made a break for it? I held no reserv-

"You don't need to be so worried, Mister Stepanowski," said the taller agent, "we really are here simply seeking information. You aren't in any trouble but there are some things we need to know."

Not in trouble? Not yet...

The shorter agent didn't give me any time to dwell on that. "Tell you what, why don't I get us something to drink. It'll help."

With that he got up and left. I couldn't help staring at the closed door as I tried to make sense of it. Sure, my mouth was dry, but what was his angle? He couldn't not have one.

"So, Alex was it?"

My head snapped around and I forced down a hitch in my breath.

The other agent adjusted the sleeve of his jacket. "Do you have any family in the area?"

What? My thoughts reeled; a physical strike might have actually done less. I was pretty sure I knew what he was up to.

"Are you playing the good co-" I clamped my lips shut. I'd just thrown that at a federal agent!

A blink led to his first smile - a faint one. "No, Mister Stepanowski, we don't do that kind of thing. I really am interested in knowing if you have any close family in the area. No one we have spoken to has mentioned you having any so far."

His head tilted as he continued, "Your parents must be worried for you right now."

I... still couldn't quite place the question or why he was asking it. My mouth worked futilely but I quickly put a firm stop to it. He just waited patiently, though after a minute he sighed.

"From what we've gathered this isn't-"

The door clicked open and slicked-hair strode back while holding a trio of water bottles. His eyes went first to his partner and they exchanged a glance that I didn't like the look of. One bottle did end up in front of me, but I waited until they'd both cracked theirs before hesitantly dragging it closer.

A nod from ‘tall-y’ prompted me to take a drink. It was cool and soothing, but it didn't make the following moment of silence any less awkward.

"Alright, well, we do have some questions for you Mister Stepanowski," stated the shorter agent as he stood again. "This is going to be official but we are not here to interrogate you." He stepped over to the corner with the camera. After a moment of fiddling with it he looked up.

"I am Special Agent Kent and my partner is Special Agent Weiss-"

'Short-y' was Kent and 'tall-y' was Weiss. I had to remember those names.

"-epanowski, you understand that what you say and do will be recorded on camera to potentially be used to further this investigation?"

I nodded.

"Please state that you understand."

"I... I, uh, understand that I'm on camera." Good God, was badly forced. And now it was on official record...

"Thank you." He retook his seat.

The camera was relative to where I was in the room, occupied the opposite corner; it had clearly been arranged just so and neither agent would blocked it. I couldn't stop glancing at it, my pulse racing in my ears, and now that kept doing so, I noticed there was also a thick briefcase of some kind on the floor next to it.

"Alright. Mister Stepanowski, do you know why Agent Weiss and I are here?"

Why? Well, wasn't it...?

No actual answer came to mind. Regular cops could handle a 'domestic disturbance' - that's kind of what it looked like, right? - that resulted in some property damage. At least I thought so. The only thing that seemed like it warranted federal involvement would be the whole pony thing, and they shouldn't...

What if they knew? What if Luna had told them somehow?! I knew it looked like I'd abducted her! That would seriously fu-

"Please try to relax, Mister Stepanowski," Agent Kent interrupted my runaway thoughts. "This really is a simple inquiry. We are here because the local law enforcement initially reported the possibility of an explosive device being detonated in a residential area. That this happened within spitting distance of a major military airbase meant that we had to take certain actions."

He shifted forward, resting his elbows on the table as his eyes tried to hold mine. "Now, there are inconsistencies with that scenario, but another red flag was tripped when you refused to make any kind of statement to the local officers. Mister Stepanowski, what we really need at the moment is simply for you to tell us, in your own words, what happened in your apartment this last Sunday."

The reality of that day reasserted itself in my mind's eye. Lying to the fucking FBI on camera was something I could not do! Telling the truth - also on camera! - would be just as insane! There was just no way!

I don't know what answer they'd been expecting - it probably wasn't me keeping my mouth shut - because Agent Kent's lips thinned a bit. Agent Weiss, cool as a cucumber, simply sat there rolling his water bottle between his hands. I didn't know which unnerved me more.

"It wasn't a bomb," I blurted, shaking my head sharply.

The agents shared a look and Weiss nodded.

"So you told officer Reichelt." Of course they knew of that; they were FBI. "That's good; it's a start. There was no bomb." Kent nodded like that settled the matter. "But what actually happened that injured you and did the kind of damage we saw?"

They both looked completely relaxed but I couldn't bring myself to even attempt the same.

"I... I'-I can't. I-it..." Again I shook my head in denial.

That got him to frown. "You can't, or won't?"

My breath caught in my chest at the implication. Trying to take a drink to alleviate things didn't work because the simple act of swallowing was a painful struggle.

"Actually..." That was Weiss, his hand on Kent's forearm. "Mister Stepanowski, do you know what happened in your room that afternoon?"

I managed a strained nod.

"But you can't tell us."

It wasn't a question but I managed a head jerk that imitated another nod.

"Why not?"

Asking 'why' only lead right back to the heart of the matter; lie about something more initially reasonable or tell an unbelievable truth. And if the cops could make my life miserable, these guys could ruin it.

I couldn't.

I couldn't...

"Mister Stepanowski, the situation is obviously traumatic." It was the softest tone Agent Kent had used, though that wasn't saying much. "Take a moment and try to relax, alright?"

Derisive mental laughter welled up. "I-I can't."

Another frown, this time from both of them.

Weiss cocked his head, "Why not?"

"Ev-verything's s-so fucked-d up."

"I'm sure everything can be resolved if you would simply tell us about it," the taller agent said. "If anyone is in any danger we can assure their safety, but we need to know the situation."

"I can't." I was barely able to breathe it out, my body shaking with the effort. And yet, it was surprisingly easy to let more rush out. "It's... it's so... The truth... You'd think I-I'm just f-fu... that I'm screwing with you. A-at best I'd-d spend the rest o-of my life doped out of my mind in... in some insane asylum!" Instead of rehashing the same old message, and to give myself time to collect myself, I just shook my head.

The weight of simply denying them lifted somewhat, though it shifted focus; now they had some inkling of why and I knew I wouldn't be let off at what little I'd given. There was no way out!

"The truth is so unbelievable?" Asked Kent as his brows furrowed lines into his forehead.

I could only helplessly watch him.

"You're going to tell us that this is, what, something straight out of the X-Files?" His complete lack of belief was completely expected.

"Really?" Weiss' expression had slipped into something full of deeper lines and harsh angles.

I tried to nod at the same time as I shook my head in denial of the situation. It didn't work out at all so I just went to staring at my hands lying flat on the table. There was a long moment of nothing but soft whispers eventually brought my eyes up; the agents were leaning toward each other. I think I caught the word 'circle.'

It's not like I don't know we're getting nowhere!

"Well, let's take a minute," said Kent, breaking off his conversation with Weiss. "Clear our heads and all that. Do try and relax, Alex."

I jerked at his use of my first name. That he didn't wait for an answer - standing and turning toward the corner with the camera - didn't help me obey his suggestion. After a glance toward Agent Weiss, who was watching me with no expression, I lowered my head.

Kent was right though; I needed to try to relax. My heart was racing with no end in sight. I did what I could - making conscious effort to breathe steady and such - but the prospect of enduring more of the same from the agents largely undid any headway I made.

And then there was the camera... I was losing it on video!

I straightened, intent on not looking so pathetic. Sitting up only put the camera at the edge of my sight and, yup, it only made me feel like I was posing. It was far too obvious. I just couldn't find a nice, casual middle ground. Idly fiddling with my water bottle made for a better, more natural way to pass the time. Now, if only I knew what kind of messages they'd read that.

"Well, Mister Stepanowski, why don't we pick up with something that we do know?"

Agent Kent broke the relative silence - we were still in a hospital, after all - and my gut went right back to its pre-break knot. So much for relaxing! What new hell could they possibly have in store?

I mentally screamed for the world to not answer that.

"Two days ago," Kent began, stepping back to his corner of the table and placing the fingers of one hand on it, "something happened in your apartment - in your very bedroom - that damaged multiple rooms, destroyed an amount of your personal property, and injured yourself - two cracked ribs and minor cuts and bruises, according to Doctor Innis. The extent of your injuries are, again according to the doctor, consistent with falling or being flung against a hard surface. Reports from the scene point to a high likelihood that you were thrown against the wall of your bedroom with great force."

He tilted his head to give me a slightly oblique look. "Your neighbors reported hearing a loud noise at about four thirty in the afternoon that seems be consistent with the event. While we suspect a low-grade detonation of some kind-"

I shuddered at the mention of potential explosives, dropping my eyes to the water bottle in my hands.

"-the reports on the noise are inconsistent. Your neighbors also reported multiple voices shouting and in apparent pain. Yours being the latter, I suspect. From what we've learned, it sounds like there were a number of other people in your apartment that day. Were there?"

Ponies... Luna, Etherea, and others who were probably Equestrian guards. It was all I could do to keep my breathing level because it was another layer of things I couldn't tell them about.

"Alex."

I just shook my head at the clear displeasure in his voice.

"Okay, then. How about the girl with the blue hair? What does she have to do with these events?"

Etherea!

My head snapped up, eyes trying to force their way from my head for a second. How...? Right, the cops had had reports of her from my neighbors, so the FBI would have them too. Fuck!

But that meant... I didn't know! All I knew was that there was no way I could tell them I'd been housing a-

"Good. You do know her." Kent kept his gaze level while on the side Weiss nodded. "Who is she?"

"I-I..." No! She's a pony!

Kent frowned when my lips sealed again. "Well, Mister Stepanowski, with the information we've got, it's apparent that she's involved somehow."

He paused and the two of them watched me carefully for a second. That hadn't been a question; what did they want? Noticing that my mouth had opened in the meantime, I clamped it shut.

Kent shifted, head tilting slightly to the other side. "Even if you won't tell us how to locate her, we still have a task for you that will help." His right hand slipped into his coat and pulled out a slim black object. As soon as he placed it between us I recognized the dings around its edges.

They'd stolen my phone!

"Given the most recent content, we assume that the blue-haired woman is the one you've been talking to. We've taken the liberty of letting her know that you would like to speak with her."

The FBI has been talking to Etherea?! Shit! Fuck! Fuck, shit, shit!

"If she replies, we need you to keep up a conversation."

"Y-you t-took...!" I couldn't take my eyes off the small device; at any moment it could leap off the table and tear me to pieces.

"I apologize for the necessity, but yes, Mister Stepanowski, we did. Given what happened, and the possibility that an airbase might be a target, the Magistrate Judge agreed that we simply couldn’t wait."

He removed a sheaf of papers from within his jacket, unfolding and then sliding them across the table to sit just shy of my phone. As I stared numbly at the seals and all the legalese - something about my electronic communications and records and stuff - he sat, taking a moment to straighten his blazer.

They had a warrant for my phone...

I coughed as my brain almost physically stumbled, breaking off a manic chuckle before it could form. They thought there might be, what, some kind of plot against the nearby airbase? I was the prime suspect, I guessed, but he was apologizing to me? I didn't understand! Why? It didn't make any damned sense!

But my thoughts weren't coherent so I just kept staring at the phone.

"Though I have to ask: why do you two use a made up language to communicate? Is it because of something about her situation?"

I still gave them nothing; I couldn't. Talking about the Equestrian language would lead right back to magical pony-land itself!

"Alex, it sounded like she was worried about you."

Definitely, but what did that have to do with anything?

More stressful silence.

"Who," Agent Weiss chimed in, "is this 'Princess Luna'?"

Muscles all over my body went painfully rigid. A memory of teal cat-like eyes rose to almost obscure my sight. They'd been in my phone so of course they knew about her too! Nonononono...! No! This was bad!

"It sounded like he or she may the one responsible for everything that has happened. Can you confirm this?"

Of course she was! I barely held back from squeezing my water bottle into torn halves. I wanted to strangle something - I was going to! - preferably a certain pony for putting me in this impossible position.

"Alex," Kent again, his voice softer. "Everything we've seen about this 'Luna' person tells us he or she is dangerous. Is that what the old bandages in your apartment were from - Luna had already hurt one of you? The blue-haired girl?"

I'd forgotten about those! It was impossible to decide whether to laugh or cry at the reminder and their assumption from it, so I did neither and tried not to choke on the conflicting actions.

"Sh-she-e... she..." ..was a magic alien equine who can portal wherever she wants and squish me like a bug! I shook my head, shuddering again.

"Look, Alex-" I'd stopped paying attention to which of them was speaking at any given time, "-we need to find out what this Luna is going to do before he or she acts again. You and your girl are possibly the only ones with knowledge of what that might be. From what I’ve seen you’re a decent guy and I understand that you couldn’t have known how badly things would turn out. We can protect you - both of you - but we need your-"

Laughter, soft and manic, couldn't be stopped from bubbling out of me. The entire situation was ludicrous and hopeless because they'd never accept the truth. I looked up for the first time in a while, meeting Kent's eyes...

My phone was glowing - lit around the edges by a golden halo. Weiss noticed it just as I did, eyebrows rising as he focused on the new development. Kent took another moment to note where I was looking.

"NO!"

My hands were already on my phone when I realized that I'd shouted that. Both agents snapped to their feet, chairs squealing against the tiles as they were forced backward.

"Nonononono...!" I have to stop this! She can't come here, now, with the FBI present!

The screen came on, but as I unlocked it a distortion in the air - like a ball of mirage haze - lifted free, floating away and off to my side.

There was no time! I had to tell Etherea off!

Oh, God, what if it was Luna tapping in and coming back after the FBI's message?!

"Mister Stepanowski? What's going on? Do you-?"

I couldn't be bothered with whatever the agents were doing; I was too busy fighting with fingers that shook so badly that I couldn't open my fucking texts menu! If only I - damnit fingers, work! - could get in and - fuckfuckfuckfuck! - get a message...!

A dull thump sounded just off to one side of me and slim yellow legs ending in hooves appeared at the edge of my vision. With fingers frozen in a death grip I looked up, eyes trailing up a familiar equine form - one that couldn't be here; not now!

Tightness from obvious concern teased the edges of her violet eyes as she focused on me. For some reason she wore a silvery torc set with a large violet gem cut to resemble a faceted starburst. She also had something held by her mouth - a simple brown paper bag with a rolled up top. Why? What was this?

A faint smile began showing around her bag, but motion in the background made me to refocus; Weiss' hand was withdrawing from his coat. I barely had time to start shouting my denial as his weapon came free.

Etherea was already turning, her expression shifting away from happy innocence, when a deafening crack blasted my ears with stinging pain. She flinched, ducked, and tensed into whirling about faster. It felt like I was moving through molasses as I tried to raise my hand and ward off the barrel that was now reaching proper position.

The gun flashed again and my ears took another hit as a body-wide shudder rocked Etherea. Her mouth stretched wide in a shriek I barely heard and flung the bag away. Her horn, which hadn't lost its glow, brightened as she staggered a step back and landed on her rump.

The gun went off again.

A sheet of yellow flared from wall to wall a few feet in front of Etherea and her horn's halo went incandescent white for the blink of an eye. Another sharp shudder rolled backward along her.

Another muffled crack resulted in the same horn flare the same sheet of hazy yellow, her head pitching backward as though squarely struck. This time she belted a full-on squeal that powered straight through the fuzz in my ears.

It was then I registered Agent Kent reaching Agent Weiss, both of the smaller agent's hands landing on Weiss' wrists and forcing them downward. He was yelling - no, screaming - something at Weiss that I couldn't hear. His head turned, wide eyes zeroing in on the alicorn less than a dozen feet from him.

Etherea... Etherea! There were red droplets scattered lightly over floor beneath her and across the hind hoof I could see. I needed to reach her!

I cursed, still in shock, as my legs simply jerked unsteadily. Oh, my God, I'd been shot at!

But Etherea...!

She was shaking now, constant tremors running up and down her coat, and her head dropped like it had become too heavy for her neck. The way her sides heaved and forced out strangled whimpers with every exhale was bad. Really, really bad! I had to get her out of here. Now!

I'd only just made it around the table corner when her head shot back up. First to the agents - Weiss was shaking, and both were agape - and then over her shoulder. To me.

Her mane had been flung out of order and partially covered one side of her face, but it was impossible to miss the way her eyes strained and quivered with tears. She had her teeth gritted in a dire rictus as she quested for something. Her eyes caught me, then wavered. When they focused again a slash of golden-yellow swung across the bottom of my vision and something with a bit of give lightly impacted my chest.

The world folded in on itself.

Author's Notes:

And that, folks, concludes the first arc. I promised you pony in every chapter even if you don't remember it, and I intend to hold myself to it. The storm's just hit and it's going to be quick but nasty. What do I have in store for our (unwillingly) intrepid human? I've got a plan!

First off, I'd like to say a big "Thank You" to my primary editor, Seven Fates, for his work in catching much of the nitty-gritty that escapes me.

I'd also like to note just how much everyone who assisted with the technicalities of this chapter's scene means to me. There's Admiral Biscuit, for assisting with a patient's perspective on the initial medical process. We have Uncle Mike, who apparently knows way too much about cops. And then waaaaayyyyyyy back in the day csnthenavy and Davidism gave me some advice on how cops did things. Everyone give them a round!

Additionally, there was that one cop who came in to buy stuff from me and that one EMT I accosted at Wawa... Yes, thank them too!

Wait? I don't have a super-special thank you cake to share with everyone who helped? Well, don't I suck at this then...

Anyway, there is one last thing: deleted scenes!

First iteration of Alex' examination at the hospital-

"So, what's the situation?"

I flinched, just then noticing the short, slender bald man who'd followed the EMTs into the room. Dark skinned with brown eyes and seemingly on the cusp of middle aged, his baldness was clearly from care, not happenstance. The pristine white coat and clipboard marked him as a measure above both the EMTs and the even more skinny guy in pale green scrubs behind him.

"His name's Alex," answered the lady as the doctor began heading around me, his assistant in tow. "Something threw him into a wall and now he's experiencing pain in his back, right-hand side, around the fourth to sixth rib about three inches off his spine. Suspect some kind of trauma to the ribs themselves. Otherwise it's mostly minor cuts and scrapes."

The doctor's lips tightened as he briefly examined whatever was on his clipboard.

"Consistent, and you've got him on some minor pain management, but I'll make the final call. Thanks, Cynthia."

"He's also very anxious."

Gee, thanks Cynthia. Of course I am! Life is in the midst of fucking me, wouldn't you know?

The doctor glanced up at her, nodded, and then looked me in the eyes. "I'm Doctor Gourley," he finally said, "and you're in good hands here. I'm going to go through the same checks that our First Responders did earlier. I'll be able to figure out what's hurting and how to fix it."

He paused, apparently expecting something.

Oh, wait, that was for me. "Uh, yeah. I'm Alex," I finally said, voice distorting through the mask the EMTs had put on me.

"Good. I need you to do something for me, Alex." His tone was gentle but brooked no disagreement. "I want you to try to relax, alright?"

Yeah. Sure. Ponies are invading, everyone would think I'm insane if I said anything, and I'm supposed to relax?

But he was the doctor.

What followed was a controlled whirlwind of mildly invasive and thoroughly embarrassing - for me - poking and prodding. He did literally everything the EMTs had done, but he did it more. Every nook and cranny around me was explored by his gloved hands while a seemingly unending interrogation over my health life accompanied. My mask was lifted off at one point as the stethoscope came out and several minutes of careful listening around my torso followed.

At least it felt like several minutes; I'm sure I wasn't the best judge.

"Well, Alex, the good news is that other than some superficial injuries there seems to be only one problem area." He sat back, folding the stethoscope away and looking down at me from his chair. "I suspect a minor fracture or two at worst, but no actual breaks so it's not likely that serious of a problem. I'll need some x-rays run in order to know for certain, though. Will it be alright if I schedule you in right now?"

I paused to look at him. "You need my permission?"

"I would prefer it. I could order much more extensive series of scans but I don't think they'll be necessary. Plus these kinds of things work out much better for everyone when we're all on the level."

Okay, I kind of liked that. He wasn't as overtly sympathetic as the EMTs and to some extent I felt better about his relative perfunctoriness - like I wasn't leeching undue concern.

Speaking of which, the EMTs had disappeared at some point.

"Alex?"

Oh, right. "Y-yeah, go ahead."

"Perfect. We'll get you set up shortly." He cocked his head while scribbling something entirely too quickly on the clipboard. I bet he had illegible 'doctor's handwriting.' "In the mean time, there's no need for you to remain trussed up. If it is as I suspect, we'll actually want to get you back to as normal mobility as possible to avoid the possibility of complications. Do you think you would be up for moving on your own?"

I'd lived through the occasional pinched nerve so I was sure that I could do it. Especially if they were going to dope me up on something. With my assent given the orderly began unclasping the straps and removing the soft blocks hemming me in.

This is what it must be like to be a package being unwrapped.

The doctor stepped out for an almost literal second, flagging for someone's attention in the receiving area, before coming back in and overseeing. I'd been laying with my right side in the air, one arm covering it, but with the incessant pricks coming from my back with every little movement it was clear that I wasn't just going to sit up in that direction.

Rolling onto my back was the order of business, and a quick one at that. Moving, even using completely different muscle groups, wasn't... fun. Thank God both the doctor and orderly helped me up because I wouldn't have made it on my own

Upright and stable was a whole different story.

"How do you feel?" The doctor's hand on my shoulder was stabilizing as he looked me in the eyes seriously.

"Better, actually." Though I made sure to keep completely still.

That got the first smile I'd seen from him, small though it was. "Good. We'll get the rest of this going in just a second here."

He again verified that I wasn't going to fall apart right then and there. I could have told him I wouldn't but I wasn't getting off that easy; it wouldn't have been nearly as much fun for him.

Getting moving afterward was actually a relatively simple matter. With my attendees bracketing me closely and my IV tagging along I was allowed to amble my way out the door and down the hall away from reception. A look backward showed a kind of low level bustling. I could hear more activity than I saw, and that which I could wasn't exactly full of hurry though neither was it languid.

Like a hospital, go figure.

Which meant that I was shambling like an invalid past other people I didn't know, and generally being in the way when some of these people had important places to be. I picked up the pace. Surprisingly it wasn't that bad - just the periodic residual warning from my side when I moved wrongly, or something.

My destination wasn't too far away: a smaller room with a more basic bed-shelf-thing, more cabinets, and much less equipment for immediate life-saving. The first order of business was to get me into something less comfortable; they weren't going to let any of my scrapes go untreated.

Being nearly naked, face down on the exam table, and my skivvies bared to the world through the rear of a backless patient's gown was another insult to lay at Luna's... hooves. But I kept my peace because it wasn't worth it. The little pricks and jabs as the doctor and attendant went over me from top to bottom were also nothing.

"So, Alex, how did this happen exactly?"

The doctor's inevitable question, no matter how misleadingly gentle, was another thing altogether.

"Extensive surface contusions and abrasions like this would make me think you'd suffered a fall, but the first responders reported you being found inside a building where you couldn't possibly have."

"I..."

He was looking down at me now - placidly expectant.

"I can't." The truth was absolutely insane. "I just-"

He settled back a bit and contemplated me. I struggled to not fidget anxiously.

"It's okay if you need some time. I just want you to know that you're in a safe place and we want to help you, however we can. But we'll need to know what happened so that we can. Would you be able to do that for me?"

All I could do was shake my head, and even that took a moment. His sour expression told me he wasn't completely happy about it.

It didn't stop him from doing his job and picking me over, cleaning every little nick and ding. As much as each little swab of disinfectant stung, it was reassuring that each of those little pains would soon go away. After a few eternal minutes I was helped back over and up, walked out of the room and deeper in - as far as I could tell - to another, more bare room with a multi-jointed armature hanging from the ceiling near one wall. With the raised flat white section dominating one otherwise blank wall it seemed like some mad scientist's projector room.

But no, x-rays were the order of the day. And now I really wanted to lose myself in a good movie too...

The IV stand had to go off to one side but the attendant brough over some kind of rolling cabinet that had been in a corner. My job? Stand in a certain place, with a particular pose, change it when they directed, and try to be patient.

Oh, and say cheese. The doctor must have thought it would be cute but I didn't bother working up the desire to crack a smile.

And then? I certainly guessed it; back to the exam room!

Leaving me there, the doctor extricated himself to search for more interesting pursuits. I had no such luxury and all I could do while waiting for the prognosis was review the events of the day. It felt so unfair that something that had started so well should end so... So...

Again words failed me. I'd have berated them too if I could have.

But in the interim all I was left with was the vague feeling that someone must have be out to get me. Luna, are you listening in on this?

I fully expected the non-answer I got.

The wait gave me far too much time to think. How bad was it going to be? How screwed was I? How could...

I had to get away from those kinds of topics; all they were doing was jacking up my blood pressure. But the only other thing I could bring myself to concentrate on was how much Luna had fucked me over. I ran, and reran, the evening through my head, trying to come up with a reason for it all.

Somehow I deserved this, I was sure. I just couldn't pin it down exactly.

Clearly that's not how hospitals would handle potential spinal injuries, or so I got told...

Who stole Alex' phone?-

With even more waiting in my room...

I really should at least look at Etherea's last message. I could do that. A burst of determination overrode my depression and got me moving. After all, I didn't need to do anything else with it if it wasn't going to help.

The only question was: where was my phone? I could have sworn I'd left it on the small cabinet-thing beside the bed. My blood ran cold as I did another frantic pass around the room with shaking hands.

The nurse! She could have taken it!

No... She wouldn't have, would she? There were rules between patients and caretakers! She'd be in so much trouble, and for what reason?

It had to be here somewhere.

A short, sharp knock at the door broke me away from digging through the first aid supplies stashed in one of the room's floor-bound cabinets.