AN: Last chapter before NaNoWriMo! Good luck to all Wrimos out there!
"Urgh, my head hurts," I groan, sitting up and rubbing the spot that's throbbing, and then I realize that there are red, white, and blue lights flashing through the kitchen windows. "What happened?"
"You fainted, honey," Mrs. Wilde says, and recollections start to filter back into my head- us eating dinner around the table, and how the conversation ended up drifting towards how Judy and I get along so well, which eventually turned into a revelation that hey, your best friend and you were essentially swapped at birth. I thought that that junk was only for TV shows, I think, but I guess not, 'cause it's kinda my reality.
"I can feel that," I say. "How long was I out for?"
"Long enough for the ambulance crew to get here," Mom says. "So about ten minutes. They're waiting outside. I'm going to tell them to come in, okay? I'm sure you're okay, but it won't hurt to get you checked out, okay?"
"Alright, alright," I grumble. I hate doctors, but with the way that my head is throbbing, I have to admit to myself, albeit grudgingly, that it's not going to hurt to have my head checked.
Okay, maybe it will, but not in that sense.
"Are you okay, Nick?" Judy asks, coming from behind the ring of parents that have gathered around where I'm lying on the floor.
"Yeah, I am, but like Mom says, it's not going to hurt to get checked out."
"I'll let the paramedics know that it's safe now," Mrs. Wilde says, "and I'll tell them to come in."
A minute later, a pair of paramedics, one oryx and one kudu, walk in the door, mad kits in their hooves.
"So what happened?" the oryx asks Mr. Wilde. "I can see that he's on the floor, so did he slip or something?"
"I fainted, actually," I interject, rubbing my head and trying to sit up, but the kudu holds out a hoof to stop me.
"Why was that?" he asks. "Do you have a history of fainting or anything like that?"
"Not that I know of," I say. "Mister or Mrs. Wilde, do either of you?"
"No, neither of us do," Mrs. Wilde says, shaking her head.
"What does that have to do with anything?" the oryx asks. "I'm Pronk, by the way, and my partner here is my husband, Bucky."
"Nice to meet you both," I say, "I'm Nick Hopps, and to answer your question, those foxes are my parents."
"But I thought you called Mrs. Hopps 'Mom,' Bucky says. "I don't get it."
"And that's exactly why I passed out," I say. "Long story short, we were given up for adoption as kits, and lo and behold, we were adopted by each other's parents."
"That's kinda weird," Bucky says. "You feelin' alright there, though?"
"I think so, but my head hurts like hell. I suppose that that's what crash-landing head first into tile will do to a mammal, huh?"
"You're not kidding, so what do you think we should do, hmm? You could have a concussion, you know? Do you have any double vision or anything like that? Feel sick to your stomach any?"
"No, I don't, why?"
"Things like that are pretty typical concussion symptoms, so I think it would be a good idea to get you checked," Pronk says. "What do you think, Bucky?"
"Sounds good to me. Better safe than sorry, you know?"
"Yeah, I do," he says, then turns to me. "We want to have him brought to the hospital, is that alright with you, Nick?"
"That's fine with me," I groan, "as long as my parents are alright with it, but just as an FYI, we don't have insurance. My Mom can't afford the premiums- rabbit coverage is insane, and then to add me on as a dependent, well then, no sane insurance company is going to offer us coverage, and those that aren't wouldn't be willing to-"
Suddenly, my head throbs, and I see stars. "Urgh," I groan. "Who decided to put the stars inside the house?"
"What do you mean?" Mom asks. "Are you okay, Nick?"
"What I mean, Mom, is that I'm seeing stars, my head is throbbing like crazy, and I'm starting to get sick, so I'm seriously wondering if I might have gotten myself a concussion."
"That's why we want to take him to the hospital, ma'am," Bucky says, pulling a sheaf of papers out of his bag. "These papers will grant us that permission, and allow us to bill your insurance provider."
"But we don't have insurance," Mom says. "We can't afford it."
"Don't worry, Bonnie," Mister Wilde says, smiling softly. "We can help, we ran our own business for a while back in Zootopia, so we have a little nest egg saved up."
"How are we going to pay you back?" Mom asks, and I can hear the worry in her voice. "I can barely pay the bills, let alone pay you back….."
"Whoever said anything about paying us back?" Mister Wilde asks, and when Mom starts to protest, he cuts her off with a curt wave of his paw.
"Look, Bonnie," he says, "we're not worried about it. Here," he says, handing Mom a pen. "Sign the approval papers, and let's get your son to the hospital."
"Oh- okay," Mom says, her concerned expression wavering for a slight second before disappearing entirely, and she signs the papers that allow for me to be brought to the hospital.
"And that's that," Bucky says, heading outside. "Can you walk, Nick? We'll support you."
"I'll try," I say, and push myself up slowly, making sure to sit for a second before getting up all the way. As I do, Bucky and Pronk each take up one of my arms, and we walk out to the waiting ambulance.
Once inside, Pronk lets everyone know where we're going- West Bunnyburrow General, and tells them to follow us in the Wildes' car, and then we're off.
"So," Pronk says as he hooks me up to more machines than I can keep track of, "what was that whole thing about each of you having been adopted by the other's parents?"
"It's a long story," I say, laying down on the gurney, "but it all started about two months ago, when Judy's family moved into the district, and it's just been going on from there."
"Interesting, and I'd like to hear more if you're willing to share."
"Not a problem," I say, and begin to tell him what I've learned over the course of the time I've known Judy, and by the time we reach the hospital, I've just finished telling him just about everything, up to and including me passing out on the floor.
"Yeesh," Pronk says. "That sounds awful."
"Believe me," I say, "it was."
"Get better," they both say in tandem. "We're here!"