Its still dark when I wake up, my body is stiff, and I still feel like shit. No better, no worse. Like I'm a mix between half groggy and drunk. But I'm awake. I blink a few times, trying to get my eyes to focus.

I glance at the clock on the bedside table, 3:17AM. Still three hours before I got to go back into hell. I lay my head back down and close my eyes, trying to go back to sleep, but its no use. My throat is dry and I've got to piss, just the usual early morning activities. The only problem is I have no water, and I can't exactly just get up and walk. There is a small call button thingy next to my bed that I can press, but I don't want some random ass person barging into my room, even if I do need their help. I at least want to have a little bit of dignity and privacy in my own time.

Ugh, decisions decisions. I stare at the ceiling, contemplating my options. I could press the button and deal with whoever decides to show up, or I could just lay here and be miserable.

After a good five minutes, I give in and just press the button. A small red light flashes on the control panel next to my bed, and I wait.

And wait.

And wait...

Five minutes pass. Ten. Twenty? Still no one.

I press the button again, holding it down this time. The light flashes again. Still nothing.

"What the fuck..."

I'm starting to get annoyed. And desperate. My throat is like sandpaper.

Click. Click. Click. Click. Click.

Nothing. Not a single person. I slump back into my bed. I guess I'll just have to wait until morning. Or until I die of thirst. Whichever comes first. I try to go back to sleep, but the discomfort is too much. I just lay there, staring at the ceiling, listening to the hum of the pump doing its job.

Should I just try and do it myself? I probably shouldn't. I still can't really walk, much less balance upright. But I've got to do something.

I think about nudging my legs to see if they'll respond. Sure enough, the left one twitches a little. Good. The right does the same. Now I just have to swing my legs over and... stand up. Right.

I nudge my right leg towards the edge of the bed. It's slow, like trying to move through molasses. The pump's tubes and wires snag on the bedrail, making it even more difficult. I try to untangle them, but my fingers are clumsy and stiff.

"Come on..."

Stupid two thumbs, how does anyone grab anything with these?

After a few minutes of struggling, my leg finally dangles over the edge. I take a deep breath, or as deep a breath as the pump will allow, and try to push myself up with my arms. They give out immediately, and I flop back onto the bed.

"Damn it."

I try again. This time I manage to get a little bit of leverage. Whoa, okay I'm halfway up. I swing my left leg as best I can over the side. The tubes swing with me. Okay. One last push. I grit my teeth and shove myself up with my arms.

I'm... standing? Or, more accurately, I'm swaying precariously on two hooves, clinging to the bedrail for dear life. Deer life? Fuck that was a good pun...

The floor feels cold. Not cold in the way you'd feel on your skin, rather like chewing on ice where you know its cold, but your teeth can't exactly 'feel' it. Still. I'm upright. My legs are shaking sure, but I'm sorta upright.

I'd take feet over hooves any day, it really does feel like I'm wearing heels or something. There's practically no point of contact between my leg and the floor, and keeping my balance is nearly impossible. I take a tentative step forward, my hand still gripping the bedrail.

Bad idea.

My legs buckle, and I tumble to the floor. I hit my head on the nightstand on the way down, and the world goes blurry for a second. I'm lying on my side, thankfully the tubes are just long enough, I can feel the tension, but its not enough to be yanked out of my body.

I need to unplug it and... and do something. I don't know.

I try to push myself up, but my arms are too weak. I'm stuck. Like a beetle on its back. I start to laugh. Good fucking job, me. Real smart. I try again, grabbing a part of the bed this time to help, my knees are shaking uncontrollably. Fuckin' hell these legs are so damn long.

I'm up. Again. I'm holding onto the bed with one hand, and fiddling with the plug with the other. Do I even have the strength to put it on? Probably not. Do I want to spend the next three hours in agony until someone finds me? Also probably not.

Okay. I'm just gonna do it.

I yank the cord until the plug comes out of the socket, then I grab the small carry handle and try to lift. FUCK ITS HEAVY. I almost fall over again, but I manage to steady myself against the wall.

I nudge my left arm into one of the straps and snake it to my shoulder. The other is... harder, to say the least. I have to sort of swing it around my back to get the other strap on. After about a minute I manage to get it on. The pump rests against my back, and the tubes now snake over my shoulders and down my chest. I look down. Adis was right, I do look like a cyborg thing.

Okay. Bathroom. Just a few feet. I can do this.

I have to lean heavily against the wall so I don't fall over. I lift one leg and shuffle it over, finding the floor is not an easy task.

Click-clack. What a strange sound. Its so jarring to hear that and not see what's making it.

Shuffle. Click-clack. Shuffle. Click-clack.

Its certainly a process, and trying not to fall backwards is even harder. My thighs are already burning. I don't know how many steps it takes, but after a good while I'm leaning against the doorframe to the bathroom.

The light is off. Its somewhere on the left side of the doorway, but I think if I try and reach for it I'll stumble and get a face full of the bathroom sink and knock half my teeth out.

Fuuuck this was a bad idea. Should have just waited. Just try to not break my neck I guess.

I shuffle my way inside the bathroom and try to feel for the toilet. Its a bit hard to feel through my feet... hooves... whatever, but I can sort of see the outline of it in the darkness. I lean against the sink and lower myself down. My knees creak in protest. Its not a graceful descent. I pretty much just collapse onto the toilet seat.

I sit there for a moment, catching my breath. My legs are trembling. My head is throbbing from where I hit it. But I did it. I'm here.

I glance at the mirror and see... my face... her face? Its pale in the dim light. Her eyes are wide and dilated. Her fur is a mess, all tangled and matted from sleep. The tubes from the pump snake over her shoulders and disappear under the collar of my pajama shirt. I'll deal with looking presentable in the morning.

Okay, one of two things done, I don't have any bottled water or cups, so I'll probably just have to drink with my hands from the sink. I grab the edge of the sink counter to try and hoist myself up. My arms feel like noodles.

Slowly, shakily, I rise to my feet. I'm back to leaning against the counter. I can see the faucet handle. I turn it on, and a stream of water pours out. I cup my hands under the flow and bring them to my lips.

Its not enough. I'm still thirsty. I do it again. And again. I probably look like an animal, hunched over the sink, drinking greedily with my hands. But I don't care. The water soothes my dry throat.

Okay. Now all I have to do is get back to bed. Just the reverse of what I just did. Easy.

Right.

Shuffle... Shuffle... Click-clack. Shuffle. Thud. OW, FUCK.

I stumbled. Stupid ass hooves. Its fine. I'm fine. The doorframe is just a few steps away, I can make it.

I limp towards the doorway.

Ow. Fuck. Fuck. FUCK—

SLAM!

...

I trip over my own legs and crumple to the floor. This time my head hits the floor with a crack.

...

Shit... that's definitely a concussion.

I try to get up. I can't. I lay there. My eyes are open, but I can't see anything. The world has turned f... f-fuzzy again.

I feel nauseous.

This was stupid. So fucking stupid.

...

Footsteps. Footsteps come right up the hall.

The footsteps stop in front of my door. A knock. Oh goody, they've finally responded to my calls after I've decided that I want to take a nap on the fucking ground. I can't see who it is, the hallway light is blinding.

"What..."

I recognize that voice. I turn my head as the door slides open, and sure enough, standing in the frame is...

Rylan.

He looks rough, about as rough as I do. He's wearing a dark set of pajama clothes things... I think. His eyebags are probably a mile deep, and he looks haggard.

"Hi..." I start, rolling onto my side.

"Why are you...?"

"Augh, fuck..."

His question is cut off by a loud groan as I try to sit up. The room is still spinning.

"Shit, hold on..."

Before I can say anything, he's at my side, lifting me up. His voice is raspy and exhausted.

"Are you alright?"

"I... ughhhhnnnn..."

My head is full of static. I try and nod but its kind of just a shivery full body thing.

"Oh shit,"

He sets me down and rushes into the bathroom, coming back with one of the towels on the rack by the shower.

"Sit still please." He wipes something off of my head... blood? Am... I?

"...Am I dying?" I laugh, a little. I'll be fine, sadly.

"I don't think so, it just looks like a cut. What... what the hell were you even doing up this late?"

"I... ohhhhnnnn umm..."

Huh?

"I called... help. N'bd... uh..."

When did we move out of the room?

Oh. He's gone. Wait no he isn't hes... two people now? TWO TAILS. You can't trust anyone with two tails, its like when a butterfly has two pairs of wings you know that there are some kind of super powers happening that can not be explained... or seen.

Is he here? Can he see me? Can I see him? Can you? My neck hurts to turn. Not just neck, everything hurts. To. Watch. Foul. Move. Look. Things. That... eyes.

Things in my head I know shouldn't be there... where was that? The words things they make sense. But, is sense really... what sense should it be? It is sense. To me. Or to us? Does... I don't... do not care about grammar.

The light on the NAME device is not green anymore. Neither is the label device. I will look up there.

"Oh... oh."

"Omnia facimus quae aliis displicet eo sensu quod balaena frondosa vireta edere non potest."

Yes.

"Cur color tam rotundus gustat?"

"You see yourself you are a green. Yellow. Black. You can understand now?"

I blink once.

"I had trouble of same today. Will, better you here than me only. They went back to sleep."

"Balaena frigida moriendum ad..."

"Sorry, sorry! Will wait on my mind the other person."

"Duro frigiditas gustavit."

My breathing is heavier. More noise. Stop the words stop them. Take out.

"Invenitur..."

Breathe.

"...Prodi!"

The light is red now.

What is red?

"Magnum calorem et lacrimam videas dulcem."

Wait.

"Red is an angry color. I... am sorry. Green is the anger too much. Blue is blue the bad and sad yes."

"What is GREEN?"

"GREEN is a calm color. Purple is... nice. Indigo. Both my eyes. Brown, my eyes... yours?"

I swallow. Once.

"They are the pain white."

My eyes look here.

"That is correct."

I can focus now.

"I am here to watch something... here. Video... or are you? This is like one when the school... are you?"

"You've made very..."

"Will it be over soon?"

"No."

"I didn't think it would."

"It... you aren't supposed to see."

"See what?"

"Any of this."

"What..."

I snap forward. Something digs into my stomach. I'm hunched over on a table again. Dining table? Dinner? Me? No wait... metal. There's light on the... NO. Darkness. Light on the opposite wall from me. I wipe a hand down my face and pull it away. I thought it was wet.

I glance around the room. Its only half visible. Chairs with no tables. No tables? Why is that...

"Rylan..."

I say his name, not intending to. He blinks at me in my head. Hes in my head. I see him but I don't. Hes there but not really?

"Rylan, fuck, where am I?"

No response. Great.

"Where the fuck is this..."

Shut. up. shut up shutupshutup.

Stop talking.

You'll go back if you keep talking. Shut. Your. Fucking. Mouth.

I don't wanna?

"Gh..." I think I'm shaking.

Focus. The metal... no, steel. Its... industrial. Its not the wood from the... other... place?

"No, no no nonono. No, I'll... I didn't even say what I wanted to."

So much going on in my skull I don't understand. I must be schizophrenic. This...

One thousand eyes. Myself. You. OBEY, as they do.

Remember that.

"Alright, great... what the fuck was that..."

Someone is standing over Joric. Me? No wait... backwards yes. Hi Joric.

I think? I reach my hand out and grab his coat. It feels no. What does that mean?

He looks at me with his seven thousand eyes and makes the shape with his mouth I know is the word. Who am I. It is I. And then there are tongues. I. And then in the air I can see.

What does that MEAN?

Fuck. I don't know. JORIC?!

Everyone moves together as if in a single unified motion. The lines drawn onto the concrete. All draw closer together the harder I push. And push, and push. Nothing can stop me now.

Wait.

Wait what was I thinking?

It's gone. There's nothing.

"I... ughhnnn..."

The light is bright. Too bright.

"Five more minutes..."

A hand touches my shoulder. It's... not familiar.

"Eight-one-one-nine-oh-two."

"Wha..." I manage.

Seven thousand eyes bore into my skull every time I look around. It seems too slanted...

"HEY!"

The hand flinches. Then the holder of the hand sighs a long heavy breath that rattles my booens... BONES! Yeah.

No I think I'm just shaking...

"H..." I swallow, trying to get my mouth to cooperate. "H..." I try again. I can't make the sound.

The.

...

Dr. Joric is standing over me. Holding a... datapad. Looking... terrified?

"Okay..." He says, setting the datapad down. "Let's try this again. Are you with me?"

"I..." I swallow. "...I think so?"

He takes a deep breath. "That was... oh great stones..."

He looks at the datapad again, and taps something on the screen. I can hear the faint clicks of the stylus on the glass.

"Am I okay?"

He doesn't answer for a long moment. He just keeps tapping on the datapad.

"Joric?"

He looks up at me. His eyes are wide.

"Your... you should be okay now."

"What happened?"

"You... you had a bit of an accident." He says, looking back at the datapad. "Your brain... it's... a bit of a mess."

"A bit of a mess?"

"Yes. A bit of a mess." He says. "Rylan said you had a fall earlier this morning, was that true?"

I nod.

"And you hit your head?"

I nod again.

He lets out a long sigh. "Okay. Okay. This is... this is fine. This is... manageable."

"What is?" I ask.

"Complications with the NAME's connection. It caused a bit of... What I'm dubbing a 'brain break.'"

"I think we should stop letting you name things."

He chuckles weakly. "Maybe so." He says. "But that's what we're calling it. For now."

"So what does that mean for me?" I ask.

"It means..." He starts, then pauses. "Nothing really. It just made it harder for you to be you."

"What?"

He's looking at the datapad again, but he's not typing. He's just... staring at it. As if he's trying to make sense of something.

"So what? I'm fine?"

He doesn't respond.

"Joric?"

"Sorry... Somewhat yes."

"Be specific."

He's silent again.

...

"Joric."

"Sorry." He says, looking up from the datapad. "You're fine. It was just a bit of a complication."

"So why are you staring at your datapad like that?"

"Hm?"

"You've been staring at it since we started talking. What's wrong?"

"Wrong? Oh... nothing's wrong. I'm just... looking over your readings.

"You say that like I know what that is."

"You don't need to know."

"Uh, I feel like I should? Its my brain, I should know what you're doing to it?"

"Trust me." He says. "It's nothing you need to worry about."

"But—"

"Please. Just relax." He says with a bit of a harsh edge. "Everything is under control."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes." He says. "Trust me, it's all fine. I'm just making sure the damage isn't anything too severe."

"How bad could it be?"

"Well..." He sighs. "The worst case scenario would have been a complete sever from the host and target without a recall signal."

"Uh-huh?"

"Its a complex issue on paper, but I'd rather just call it permanent vegetation."

"Oh..."

"Yeah, but were not in worst case scenario, thank the ancestors."

"Then what is it?"

"I don't know."

...

"You don't know? Its your machine!"

"Its deeper than that."

"You're not giving me any confidence."

He shuffles to a table opposite of the room and picks up a device, then shuffles back. He's still not making eye contact. He fidgets with it for a second and then holds it up to my head.

A small, blue light sweeps across my vision.

"Okay... hold still..." He mumbles.

"What is that?"

"Just follow the light with your eyes." He says.

The light moves left, then right, then up, then down. Then it zigzags across my vision.

"Alright, good." He says, pulling the device away. Then he picks up a different one. "Now, just look straight ahead for me."

I do as he says.

A small red light flashes in my peripheral vision, and I hear a quiet beep.

"Okay..." He says, looking at the device. "Your pupillary response is... normal. That's..."

"Good?"

"Uh." He says. "It means your brain is processing information and the NAME is interpreting it in a reasonable delay time." He sets the device down and picks up the datapad again. "There's seemingly nothing wrong, which is the problem. There should be something wrong. There should be... scarring. Minor damage. Something."

"But there's nothing?"

"Nope." He says. "Your brain is clean."

"Shouldn't that be a good thing?"

"It would be if you hadn't just had a severe concussive event." He says. "I had to reboot your NAME device because it was unresponsive and firing off false signals. Now its just... working normally." He's staring at the datapad again. His hands are shaking ever so slightly.

"I need to know what is failing and fix it asap, if I don't, who knows where you'll be when it malfunctions again." He says. "I can't have a random 'brain break' happen halfway across the institution."

I look down at my hands.

What's wrong with me?

"But the only way to find out is to just... observe until something happens."

"That means?"

"It means I've done all I can do. You'll just have to go on with your day until we can pinpoint whats wrong." He says. "Rylan will escort you back after I log everything."

"And were not going to talk about the... I don't even know how to describe what happened."

"We're not." He says.

"Why?"

"Because I don't have an answer for you right now." He says, and the way he says it makes me think he's telling the truth. He's not hiding anything. He just... doesn't know. And that's more terrifying than anything else he could have said.

"But you will?" I ask.

"I will try." He says. "I promise."

I just stare at him. I don't know what else to do. I feel like I've been run over by a truck. My head is pounding. My whole body aches. And now, on top of everything else, my brain is... breaking. Whatever the hell that means.

Rylan takes me out of the room with a chair and we walk through a variety of corridors and halls. He doesn't say anything and neither do I. I'm just... trying to think.

When we get back to my room, the clock reads 6:41am. Three hours? Wow, time flies.

"Are you feeling like breakfast?" He asks.

"...I don't know."

"You should eat." He says. "I think. Would it make you sick?"

"I don't know."

"Okay... Are you going to say anything other than 'I don't know'?"

"I don't know."

He sighs. "Do you want to go back to sleep?"

"No."

"Well, would you like me to leave?"

"No."

"Can you explain why not?"

"..."

"Are you afraid of being alone?"

"..."

He gives me a look that tells me he's either upset or worried.

"Am I supposed to just go back to normal?" I ask.

"That would be ideal, yes."

"But..."

"But?"

...

But what?

I don't say anything for a while, or at all really. Time stretches and compresses in weird ways, and I just stare at the wall.

Eventually, Rylan clears his throat "Let's just get you ready for the day, okay?"

"Okay."

With that, we fall back into the motions I'm used to. Having Rylan do everything opposed to someone random isn't as endearing as I thought it would be, but I think I just have to get used to it. He's polite, or too nervous to do more than keep me upright in the shower. The only words exchanged are necessary. "Do you need help with that?" "No." "Can you stand?" "Yes." "Are you okay?" "No."

Breakfast comes along and I can barely hear my own thoughts against everyone else's talking. We both have green trays, and we both get a heaping portion of fruit slices and some coffee. Well, Rylan gets some, but I get some kind of sweet tea instead. The smell alone is enough to get me to drink at least some of it.

He's cradling the cup like its his own kit, and with every sip he looks more relaxed.

"You look like you haven't slept in days." I mumble into my tea.

"I haven't." He says simply. "They had me on another trial, and Joric told me to answer your call right as I was settling in for bed."

"How come nobody else did?"

"Beats me, but Its no biggie, I slept a little on the tram ride over to the Commons Wing, so there's that at least."

"The what?" I ask.

"The tram. Its like a little carriage that runs through the facility."

"I don't remember a tram."

"Well... that's not a surprise. The commons, research, and visitation wings are all kind of far apart from one another. You can't just walk there. Not that you'd want to, its about a twenty minute walk even at a brisk pace."

"Weird."

He puts an apple slice in his mouth. "My quarters are over where you were moved to at the beginning of your trial, so I have to take a tram to and back."

"You live here?"

"Mmmh." He nods, chewing. "Everyone does. Its like we all work on a big friggin' oil rig for medical stuff." He says. "Its kind of like a... well its a campus."

"And you can't just go home?"

"Technically I can but you have to go through a whole bunch of paperwork to get a pass to leave. I haven't been outside the facility in... A year and four months?" He says. "Its a bit weird."

"Sounds awful."

"It is if you hate your job. But I like my job, so its not that bad."

"You like this?"

"I like taking care of people. I like learning how to do things the doctors do. If i had to be a Commons assistant I think I would be a lot more miserable."

"Is there a difference?" I ask.

"Commons assistants are like regular nurses, they handle your meals, daily cleaning and other stuff. They also get rotated between all the patients. I'm a 'research assistant.' So I get assigned to one or two specific cases. I do that and other lab stuff. Cassie and I were assigned to you at the start and we were really only meant to be there until you were back on your feet."

"Hooves."

"Cassie got moved into another neural mapping project afterwards and Joric had me stay as your personal assistant while you recovered enough to go back to Commons. After that, I got moved to Dr. Porias and his patients, and then Joric called me back in under him."

"I don't really know why." He continues. "I guess he needed someone who knew what they were looking at."

"I guess so." I say. "Sorry about waking you up."

"Its okay. I'm... sorry I didn't get to you sooner."

"Its okay."

I'm not angry at him.

I grab a grape from the tray and pop it into my mouth. I look around the cafeteria and gaze at all the faces I don't recognize, almost half looking for Gertrude and Adi, but I can't find them. I go back to my food instead.

I'm halfway through my tea and halfway through my fruit when I notice Rylan is staring at me. Not in a creepy way, more like a... concerned way.

"What?" I ask.

"You seem... quiet." He says.

"I am quiet." I say. "I'm always quiet."

"No you're not." He says. "You're always angry. At least the last time I saw you, you were."

"I just have a concussion."

"Right." He says.

"It made me nicer." I say, a little sarcastically. "Maybe I should fall on my head more often."

He doesn't laugh. I try and snicker a bit to compensate but its kind of empty. Even I don't think its funny.

We both finish our food and without another word, haul over to the physical therapy room. This is the place I really wanted to avoid. I'm still sore from the fall, and the thought of moving around makes me want to cry.

Its much more of the same nonsense. Standing and balancing, walking and not falling. Rylan just sits in a chair on the side of the room jotting notes on a datapad and reading something off it like its the most important thing in the world.

Despite the fall, I think my halfassed attempt at balancing earlier is making it a bit easier to stay upright longer. The pain is there, but its more of a dull throb now.

I spend the next hour walking back and forth between a set of two parallel bars, or doing yoga stretches on a mat. Most of it is fine, but when it comes to holding a pose for more than a few seconds my legs start to shake and I have to stop. Or I fall. Either one.

"Lift your shoulders this time. You're slouching." An assistant calls out.

"I am not slouching." I grumble, and try to lift my shoulders.

"Yes you are. You're doing it right now."

"I'm not."

Rylan looks up from his datapad and squints at me. "You are a little bit."

I scowl at him, then at the assistant. "You can't even see my back from where you're standing."

"I don't need to. I can tell by the way you're holding your neck." She says, walking over and pressing a hand against my upper back. "See? There's a curve. Straighten up."

"But its how I stand."

She shakes her head. "It's not how anyone should stand. Now straighten up."

I do as she says, but my back hurts. I can feel the muscles in my shoulders and neck straining.

"There. That's better."

"It hurts."

"It'll stop hurting once you get used to it."

"I don't want to get used to it." I mutter, but I keep my back straight. "It feels stupid."

"Good." She says. "Now hold that for thirty seconds."

"You've gotta be kidding me."

"Nope. Count it down."

"Thirty... twenty-nine..." Rylan calls out from across the room.

I glare at him. "Don't you dare."

He grins. "Twenty-eight... twenty-seven..."

"Fucker." I mutter, and he just grins wider.

"Twenty-six... twenty-five..."

I can feel the muscles in my back starting to burn. I want to slump over, to let my shoulders relax, but I know they'll just make me do it again.

"Twenty-four... twenty-three..." Rylan's still counting.

"You're enjoying this way too much."

"It's my job to enjoy your suffering." He says cheerfully. "Twenty-two... twenty-one..."

I'm starting to shake. My legs feel like they're going to give out from under me. I'm not sure how much longer I can hold this.

"Twenty-one and a half..."

"Huh?"

"Twenty-one and a quarter..."

"H-hey!" I stammer. "You can't do that!"

"Twentyyy..."

"RYLAN!"

"Nineteeneighteenseventeensixteen. Happy?"

"Ngh... Justfuckingkeepcountingggggg..."

He does, ever so slowly, I think by the end of it I was standing there for a solid three minutes.

"Okay, okay. You can stop now." He says, and I practically collapse onto the mat, my whole body is trembling.

The assistant, whose name I think is Nia, hands me a water bottle. "You did good."

"I feel like I'm going to die."

"That's the point." She shrugs. "If you're not dying, you're not trying hard enough."

"What kind of backwards logic bullshit is that?"

"The kind that works." She says, and then she turns to Rylan. "I'm going to get the leg press ready for her. Don't let her lie there for too long."

"Will do."

Nia walks off elsewhere and starts dabbling with some other equipment.

"You're going to let me lie here for as long as I want, right?" I look up at him.

"I am contractually obligated to do the opposite." He looks down at me. "You have two minutes."

"Boo."

"Less backtalk more resting." He sits next to me and pulls his datapad into his lap. He holds his finger above the screen and a countdown pops up. "Eighty-eight seconds remaining."

"Booo..." I say again.

He looks up from the screen. "What?"

"You're being a bully." I say, pointing at him.

"Oh. Am I? Huh. Whoops."

"You're supposed to be nice to me. I have a concussion."

"Oh, right. I forgot." He says. "Let's try that again." He clears his throat, then in a syrupy sweet voice, "Oh, you poor, poor thing. You fell down and bumped your little head. Let me kiss it and make it all better."

He leans in with puckered lips and I slap him away. "Don't you dare."

"See? I'm being nice and you're the one being mean." He says. "Not my fault."

"You're the one who's being a smartass about it."

"It's my job to be a smartass. It's in the job description." He says. "Right under 'must be able to lift at least fifty pounds' and 'must be able to withstand verbal abuse from patients'."

"I'm not verbally abusing you." I grumble.

"You have though, like a lot."

"Okay well, that was before."

"Does it make it any better?"

"No."

"Exactly." He says. "So I'm going to be a smartass until I feel like you've sufficiently learned your lesson."

"This is so stupid."

"It is." He says. "But it's working."

"It's not."

"It is." He says, and then he looks up from the datapad. "Time's up."

I groan and force myself to sit up. "Ugh. I don't wanna."

"You gotta. Leg press is waiting."

The leg press is a special kind of hell. It's a massive, intimidating contraption with a padded platform for my hooves and a stack of weights that looks like it could crush a small car.

"Alright, so what we're going to do is find your weight tolerance before you do your reps. Just push with your legs, nice and slow." Nia says whilst patting the platform. "Don't lock your knees at the top, and don't let the weight drop too low. Got it?"

I nod.

"Okay. Let's start with the bar." She says. "Just to get a feel for it."

I place my hooves on the platform and push. It's surprisingly light. I can do this.

"Good. Now let's add some weight."

She adds a small disc to each side. I push again. Still manageable.

"Another one."

Another disc. Push. A little harder, but still fine.

"Another."

Still... Manageable...

"Another." She says.

Now this is getting difficult. My legs are trembling again.

"Alright, three sets of ten. Go for it." She says, and she steps back to give me some space. Rylan is actually watching me this time too.

I take a deep breath and push. One. Two. Three. Four. Five.

My thighs are on fire.

Six.

Seven...

I can feel my knees starting to shake.

Eight. I want to stop.

Nine. I can't.

...

Teeeeeeeeen???

I drop my legs with a loud CLANG and the platform slams back into the starting position.

"Hey!"

"Sorry!" I gasp, clutching my thighs. "Sorry."

"You're going to break the equipment or yourself." Nia scolds. "Control the negative."

"It... hurts..." I wheeze.

"It's supposed to hurt." She says. "Now two more sets."

"I'm going to die."

"No you're not." She says. "Now stop complaining and get to it."

I groan and push again.

Rylan just watches with a dumb little smile on his face. I want to wipe it off. I really do.

We finish up PT with me feeling like a puddle of goo, my legs feeling like jelly and everywhere else feeling worse. Nia gives me a few more stretches to do when I have free time, but I'll probably forget to do them.

I scramble back into the chair as quickly as I can, which is about as fast as a snail can run a marathon, but Rylan doesn't come push me away.

"Hey, bozo. You're supposed to be pushing me, not watching me crawl." I say, but my voice is weak.

"Maybe we can try walking without the chair."

"I'd rather not."

"You have to at some point." He says.

"I'd rather have you break my kneecaps with a lead pipe."

"Okay, well, we don't have any lead pipes. I'm also pretty sure that would be counterproductive to your recovery." He says, nudging me off the chair and onto a puddle on the floor.

Nia emerges out from a storage room with a long stick. "Someone needed a lead pipe?"

"Close enough, hit me in the legs." I say.

"We're not breaking your legs." Rylan says, pulling me back to my feet by my armpits.

"That's no fun."

"Let's focus on fun things later." He says. "Like me not having to carry you everywhere."

"Carrying me is fun."

"For you."

"Exactly."

Nia hands me the cane. Its got a horizontal handle and some prongs at the base.

"Alright. So you're going to hold this with your right hand and use it to take some of the weight off your left leg." She says. "It's for balance, not for hitting people."

"Boo."

She ignores me. "Now, walk to the door and back."

"Do I have to?"

"Yes."

I sigh and take a step. My legs are still shaking, but the cane helps a little. I shuffle forward, my hooves making a soft clicking sound on the polished floor. The cane taps with a dull thud.

Click-clack. Thump. Click-clack. Thump.

"That's it. Good." Nia says, walking alongside me. "Now, don't lean on it too much. It's just for balance." She points to my left arm, which is practically glued to my side. "And swing your other arm. It'll help." She pats my elbow and I move my arm forward.

Click-clack. Thump.

"There you go. Now stand up straight."

"I am standing up straight."

I'm halfway to the door when I hear a snicker from behind me. I turn to see Rylan trying to hide a grin behind his datapad.

I stop in my tracks. "What's so funny?"

"Nothing." He says. He's failing miserably.

"Tell me."

"You look like you're about to call someone a 'whippersnapper.'" He says, and Nia chuckles.

"What? I look like a normal person who's learning how to walk again."

"No you don't. You look like a granny."

"I do not."

"You do. You're hunched over, you're shuffling, you're holding your cane like your hip is broken." He says. "All you're missing is a shawl and a basket full of yarn."

"I'll hit you with this cane." I grumble, turning back around and continuing my slow, agonizing journey to the door.

"I'd like to see you try."

Click-clack. Thump. Click-clack. Thump.

"I'm surprised you haven't offered to knit me a sweater yet." He says.

"I'm going to knit you a noose."

"You're so thoughtful."

At long last, I reach the door. I turn around, and I feel my back start to slump.

"Ah, ah, ah." Nia says, poking me in the small of my back. "Straighten up."

I let out a long-suffering sigh and force my shoulders back. The journey back feels even longer than the journey there.

Rylan has moved to the exit door now, and he's holding it open for me.

"Okay gram gram lets get you to bingo." He says.

"I'm going to staple your tongue to your forehead."

"Violent. Very violent." He says.

I shuffle past him, making sure to smash his foot with my cane on the way out.

"Ow! Hey!"

"Oops. My hand slipped." I say without even bothering to look back.

We make our way to the mess hall for lunch. The walk is... interesting. I'm walking. Just this morning I was... struggling to do that. And now I'm doing it. I'm slower, but I'm not falling, and that's something. Rylan keeps walking a bit ahead of me and then stopping, waiting for me to catch up. At one point he turns around and starts walking backwards.

"You know, for an old lady, you're pretty spry."

"I am not an old lady."

"Could've fooled me." He says. "What's next? Are you going to tell me about the good old days when you had to walk uphill both ways to school?" He gestures with his hands to a nonexistent mountain. "In the snow. Barehoof."

"Barehoofed."

"Semantics." He says. "The point still stands."

"The point of this cane is going right into your nards if you keep it up."

"Ooh, nards. That's a new one." He says. "I'll have to add that to the list of threats I've received today."

"I'm a creative person." I say. "My creativity has always been a strong point of mine. In more ways than one." I try to poke him with my cane, but he sidesteps away.

"You missed."

"I was aiming for the floor."

"Sure you were."

Once we're there I so graciously find a spot for us while Rylan does all of the food getting, because if I had to hobble around and hold a food tray I think I would just collapse into a pile of misery and self-pity.

He returns with two sets of green trays, both of which have a vegetable and rice soup with bread, and a single-serving slice of some kind of pie thing. I also got some kind of sparkling water. He got coffee, again.

"Addicted ass motherfucker." I snort as he sets the trays down. He just shrugs and cradles the mug.

"I'm like this close to falling asleep cut me some slack." He takes a sip and lets out a soft sigh. "Plus it tastes better than the water here."

"What does the water even taste like to you?"

"Water."

"Its my fault for asking." I take a spoonful of my soup. Its a little grainy, I think the zucchini in it got overcooked, but its still very tasty. I'm just hungry.

"I think you'd like coffee." He says.

"What makes you say that?"

"You're a bitter, angry person. Coffee is a bitter, angry drink. It's a match made in heaven."

"I am not a bitter angry person."

"Right. You're a ray of sunshine." He says.

"I try to be!" I say.

"Try to be what, eh?"

A new voice comes from beside me, I look over to see Gertrude staring right into the side of my head, her eyes wide with curiosity.

"Trying to not have a goddamn aneurysm."

Gertrude lets out a laugh. "Good luck with that one. I've been trying for a while and it hasn't worked yet."

"Have you heard of personal space?"

"Nope. Never heard of it." She says, then she looks at Rylan. "And who's this handsome fella?"

"Who? I don't see anyone handsome around here." I say, and Rylan shoots me a look.

Gertrude grins. "Well sure he is! Just look at his dark coat of fuzz, and the ears! Like a big huggable bunny!" She says, and she reaches out to pat his head. He flinches away from her, but she's quicker.

"Hey!"

"He's soft!" Gertrude says, her face lighting up. "And look at his little eyes! He's all sleepy and sad."

"I'm not sad." He says.

"You look sad." Gertrude says, patting his shoulder. "And you're all tense. You need to relax laddie. You're all bunched up like you're trying to hold in a fart."

I can't help but snort. Rylan looks like he's about to die of embarrassment. His ears are flat against his head and he's glaring at Gertrude.

"Please get your hands off me. I'm... I'm not a fan of being touched." He says while pulling away from her.

"I don't bite. Most of the time." Gertrude says. She turns her attention back to me. "So pumpy, what have you been up to? You look like you've been dragged through a hedge backwards."

"I fell."

"Well no shite we all fall." She says. "But you look like you went ten rounds with a lawnmower and lost. You got a shiner and everything."

"I fell on my head and now I can smell what white sounds like." I take a bite of my bread.

"Ooh, fun." Gertrude says. "Can you describe it?"

"Have you ever sniffed freshly boiled salt water out of your elbow? Its like that." I say, and she cackles.

"See! You can be funny when you're not being a miserable little sod." She says, patting my shoulder. "Just need to work on your delivery."

"I do not. My delivery is fine enough."

"It's not. It's too flat. You need to put some pizzazz into it. Like this." She says, and she clears her throat, then starts again in the highest pitched voice she could muster. "Oooh! Weary me! I didst tumbles mine head upon the floors and now I can smell the hues!"

I stare at her. Rylan looks like he's about to choke on his coffee.

"You are... something else." I say, and she just beams.

"I am." She says. "And you should be more like me."

"Hell no."

"Why not? I'm fun." She says, then she turns her attention to Rylan. "You agree bunny boy?" She waggles her eyebrows at him.

"I... uh... I dunno?"

"Bah, if ya not gonna pitch in then git. Scram!"

"He couldn't if he wanted to." I say, then I take a spoonful of my soup. "He's paid to be here."

"Oho, is that so? What's he getting paid? Money? or maybe a little bit of the ol' 'bedside manner' if you catch my drift?" She says, nudging me with her elbow, and I nearly spill my soup.

"He literally works here, I don't even know what half of that means."

"Oh, right. You're a wee bit of a prude, aren't you?" She says. "Don't worry, I'll teach you all the dirty words later."

"I'd rather you didn't."

"Nonsense! A girl's got to have a hobby."

"My hobbies are complaining and sleeping."

"Those aren't hobbies, I do the same thing you don't see me making my whole fuckin' personality over it do ye?"

Rylan finally manages to find his voice. "I... uh... I'm... a research assistant. I'm assigned to her case. It's my... my job." He says, and he clears his throat. "And my name is Rylan. Not 'bunny boy'."

Gertrude's eyes light up. "Rylan! What a lovely name! Sounds like a brand of expensive soap." She says. "Or a fancy car... Or a type of cheese." She taps her chin. "You know what? It sounds like all three. A very fancy, very expensive, very clean car made of cheese. That's what you sound like."

Rylan just stares at her. "Are you always like this?"

"Only on days that end in 'y'." She says.

"So, all the time."

"Pretty much. It's more fun that way. Life's too short to be a bore." She says. "You should try it sometime pumpy."

"No."

"You say that now, but you'll come around."

I take a bite of my pie. It's some kind of sweet filling with a crumble top.

"What's in this?" I ask Rylan, trying to change the subject.

"Um..." He looks at the pie, then at me. "I think it's some kind of... berry mix. With oats. I'm not sure."

"You don't know what you're feeding me?"

"It's on the menu board. I just didn't read it." He says. "I was too busy trying to stay awake."

"Oh, my apologies, your highness. I wouldn't want to disturb your beauty sleep." I say. "Perish the thought."

"I'm sorry. I'm just tired." He says. "And she's not helping." He jerks a thumb at Gertrude, who just grins. "She's making my brain feel like it's been put through a blender."

"Good. That's the goal." She says as she pats his shoulder again. He flinches. "Back when I was bonded, my mate would get so mad if I tried this shite with 'em." She says. "Especially when I'd get all cuddly and affectionate right in the middle of an argument." She sighs. "I miss that. The arguments mostly. They were always so much fun."

"You miss arguing?" I ask.

"Of course. It's how you know you're in a healthy relationship. You can scream at each other for an hour and then go and make a nice stew together." She says. "Or a nice, long session of wrestlin' under the sheets. That's always a good one too." She winks at Rylan, who looks like he's about to spontaneously combust.

"I... I don't think I'm the right person to have this conversation with." He stammers.

"Nonsense! You're a grown lad. You should know about these things." Gertrude says. "Or are you one of those 'wait until blood bonding' types? That's cute. Very traditional."

"I'm just... not really interested in discussing my romantic life with a stranger." He says, and he looks at me for help. I don't know how to help him. I'm just as trapped as he is. I just shrug and take another bite of my pie.

"Then we'll discuss my romantic life. It's much more interesting." Gertrude says. "Back in my prime, I was quite the looker. Had men and women lining up around the block for a chance to court me. Even had a few Mënskan try their luck. They were always so serious. No sense of humor, them. It's a shame."

"That's nice." I say. I'm not really listening. I'm more focused on not falling off my chair.

"It's more than nice, it's a tragedy." Gertrude says. "They never stood a chance. I'm a woman of taste. I need someone who can make me laugh. And who's good in the sack."

"You say this like I know what that is." I say.

"Right cause you're a fuckin' baby." She says. "Don't worry, auntie Gertrude'll get you sorted."

"I'd really rather you didn't."

"It's important to know what you like. How else are you going to find a good partner?" She says. "You can't just go around humping everything that moves. Well, you can, but it's not very classy."

"I'm not doing any of that!"

"That's because you haven't met the right person."

"I..."

"You what? Hmmm?" She leans in closer. "You have your eye on someone, don't you? Ooh, is it him?" She points a thumb at Rylan, who looks like he's about to have a full-blown panic attack.

"No!" Rylan and I say at the same time.

I clear my throat.

"I think... I already have a... partner?"

Fuck me.

Gertrude's eyes widen. "Well, look at you! All grown up and with a beau! What's he like? Is he handsome? Does he have a job? Can he make you laugh?"

"I... He's... He's a..."

Gertrude smacks the table. "Spit it out girl! I'm not getting any younger here!"

I can't think of what to say. I can't really remember much about him. I just know from... gut feeling I guess?

"He's... nice."

"Nice? That's it? That's all you've got for me? Nice?" Gertrude says, looking at me like I've just told her the most boring thing she's ever heard. "You can do better than 'nice.' What else? What's he like? What does he do?"

"He's a... greenhouse worker." I say, and I'm not even sure if that's true. It just sounds right.

"A gardener! Ooh, a man of the soil! I like it. Very... rustic." She says. "What's he like in bed?"

I choke on my sparkling water. It takes me a minute to get out of a coughing fit.

"What is wrong with you!?"

Rylan leans over and awkwardly pats me on the back.

"I'm just curious! It's an important part of a relationship!" She says. "First you judge a man by his demeanor, then you judge him by how hard he makes ye—"

"Oooookay! That's enough of that!"

"Let's... let's talk about something else. Literally anything else."

"Fine. Killjoy."

She points a finger at me. "But I'm not done with you. You and I are going to have a nice, long chat later. About all sorts of things. Things that will make your ears burn and your toes curl."

"I don't have toes. I have hooves."

"Its a figure of speech you moron." She grins. "You're learning! See? I'm already making you smarter."

"You're making my brain bleed." I say.

"Good. That's how you know it's working." She says. "Now, which of ye two wants to hear about my hemorrhoid surgery?"