(CONTENT WARNING: Medical environment and procedures, treating severe injuries, blood, gender issues, and discussion of self harm. Please see the end of the chapter for more information if any of these things may upset you.)
"I'm busy taking stock of all the things that I've forgot
And making mental notes of just exactly where I lost the plot"
—"Memo to Human Resources" from The Spine by They Might Be Giants
It had been a while since Max woke up from agony itself. This brief bout of consciousness came all at once. His eyes shot open just long enough to see a flash fading into his chest, but he didn't have the strength to keep them open or even see his surroundings. Deep agony crying out from his tail that eclipsed the aches in his chest, his jaw, and the burning sting in his claws.
Someone—no, multiple people—grabbed him to hoist him up. A spike of pain shot into him at their touch. He let out a pitiful whimper and faded back into unconsciousness.
Sounds accompanied him in the empty void, but he couldn't focus enough to remember any of them. He could hardly make any of it out, and what he could make out faded moments after he heard it. None of it stayed. He couldn't remember any of it.
He couldn't remember what happened. Running, he'd been running, but from what? He tried to think of what, but his attention ebbed and flowed with the sounds surrounding him. Voices, he thought he could hear voices. They all blurred together into one incomprehensible miasma. Some mainstays repeated enough to penetrate his scattered consciousness.
"… be okay…
stay… please
hold on…
make
it."
Just like what he ran from, focusing on the sounds didn't help him. If only he could stay whisked far away into unconsciousness, but the pain had faded just enough to let him hang on the edge. His tail, its agony spiked as he felt a set of paws stabbing into its end. Yet, in all the pain, he could only be mad that they were touching it at all. With all the stabbing, he wished they'd just rip it off already. Would that help with the pain? Did he even care if it did?
Before his mind could object that he needed his tail, he started to lose his grip again. The pain all around him started to fade with his consciousness after a jab into his arm. He didn't get a chance to wonder what it was before he was waking up again.
Something was in his throat. He panicked, trying to breathe, and it somehow wasn't blocking his airway at all. It scraped all the way down into his stomach, but he could breathe just fine. His eyes let slits of light in, and he could see a tube stretching his mouth open. Someone mumbled something when he tried to reach up, rip it out, and his strength left him with his consciousness again.
Without the pain, he could only feel hungry. Then, he didn't feel at all.
"Then the people came to talk me down
And I got some advice
Then the people came to talk me down
But I don't need advice; I'm down"
Consciousness came back slow and soon. It felt soon, at least, but he couldn't quite keep track of time without cognizance. His only estimate came from the agony that had faded to torture. He could breathe, but anything more than gasps hurt, his jaw ached with various little stings along his gums for some reason, and the end of his tail hurt in places he didn't even know it could. At least he could feel where it hurt, now.
Or, so he thought, but it didn't quite make sense. It felt like the far edge hurt, but it felt so much longer somehow. Did it hurt behind as well? He couldn't tell if it was the end of his tail or not. It could be both, but it didn't feel like two parts hurting.
He started forcing his eyes open to look—multiple pokémon stood over him, watching him. Among the many faces, he could only recognize Eleos, but every single one filled his vision in equal, terrifying detail. He was completely powerless against them. His heart started to race when a screeching beeped on his left. He tried to look to Eleos for comfort—it even took his paw in its own.
But its teeth looked as vicious and sharp as its claws. It and everyone else around him, he could only see claws, talons, fangs hanging over him, ready to dig in. He shot out an impotent shock and lost what little energy he could muster. Whimpers squeaked out in coughs as he fell back unconscious.
"I'll be in the back, and I don't need the help
I'm good here in the back
I'm good all by myself"
All those figures digging into his flesh filled his dreams as he slept. Rest, Max finally got to rest, and it was filled with nightmares of getting eaten alive. At least he got some rest while The garchomp smashed him into the ground, Eleos burned him alive, Goon and Cori took turns biting the flesh off his bones, and the cycle went on, repeating again and again until finally he jolted awake—immediately crumpling back down when the ache in his chest made itself known.
The pain dulled when he went limp, at least. His chest and tail both felt at least a little bit better. He could breathe in more than gasps, at least. At least, at least, at least—again and again, 'at least's were all he had left. His paw couldn't even rest on his rib as he stared up at the ceiling. Plain wood sat above him.
Where was he? How did he get there? What happened? He tried to think back again but still only remembered running. That garchomp in his nightmare, where had he seen it before? It felt so close to familiar, yet he couldn't place from where. He was utterly lost in his own mind with only a blank, wooden ceiling and pain to keep him company.
That's what he thought until he looked around. He lay on a cot with a thin blanket covering him up to his neck, and he could feel his head resting on pillows. Apparently, they brought out the highest comforts for the dead. It wasn't sterile white, but it had just enough medical equipment hung about that he could tell it was a hospital room. A quiet, kind looking kengaskhan sat in the corner opposite the door.
He scuttled up into the pillows beneath him to try and squeeze into the wall behind with his eyes trained on the kangaskhan. The sheet over his legs and pounding throbs from his rib didn't let him get far before he started to collapse into the pillow beneath him—on his side, now, so he could still keep an eye on her.
"Max?" the kangaskhan asked him. She didn't move at all except to speak. She only watched him with a light smile. "That's your name, right? Max?"
His name, she knew his name. He was Max. She was just a person. He fought against his panic to nod, and she smiled a bit wider at him.
"Good, thank you," she whispered. Max didn't know why she spoke so quietly, but it helped him immensely. He appreciated that much, but she also spoke incredibly slowly. With large, slow motion, she pointed to her own chest to say, "I'm Olive."
Max knew he had no chance of figuring out why she was acting like this. He barely managed to keep his eyes open. Maybe she thought he was younger than he was; it wouldn't be the first time—but surely they'd know a pikachu wasn't an infant. He nodded at what she said, prompting Olive to smile at him again and reach beneath her chair.
"Here," Olive said, pulling a tray out from beneath her with a cup of mush and a spoon. "I bet you're hungry." Max felt his stomach cave into itself—she was very right. He tried to leap up and barely managed to lift the forepaw he wasn't laying on. Despite his clear urgency, however, Olive took her sweet time getting over there.
Max again didn't understand what she was doing until a pit of dread started burning in his stomach again. Worse than the hunger, he needed to run. His instincts demanded he get up, no matter the pain, and get out of there—and he instantly understood what she was doing.
Olive stopped half-way and watched him. Waited for him to give her the go ahead. Kept intent watch on his eyes. Max could almost feel his own dim, if only for a moment. He took a deep breath and nodded, trying not to notice how huge she was—briefly assuming she had to be forty to fifty feet tall until remembering he was barely over a foot.
Despite his nod, Olive waited a moment before stepping forward. When she continued, she was even slower. It helped, though, on two fronts. It both gave Max time to calm himself down and toil towards the realization he wanted to avoid. With the constant chatter of instincts in his mind and the few babbles he couldn't repress, it was obvious. No matter how much he didn't want to admit it, or even understand how, it was true.
He'd blacked out. That was why he couldn't remember what happened or where he was. An extra ache joined the empty vacuum of hunger in his stomach. What had he forgotten?
Olive held the cup of mush out in front of him and let him watch her scoop some out with the spoon. He recognized the scent instantly, applesauce. One of his many, many favorites, yet he could only manage a despondent stare. He opened his mouth to let her spoon some in, and it somehow hurt to swallow.
After a few more spoonfuls, his throat started to burn too much. He let her give him one more, but the burning in his throat worsened beyond his hunger. He choked it down with great effort, coughing it back up a few times before finally managing to keep it down. Over and over, the question 'What happened?' ran in his mind, but he had no answer. He only knew one thing for sure, and it had to be the most painful.
Olive set the applesauce down in front of him and sat down. Feeding him made her much less of a threat to his instincts. He was familiar with the trick, but that made it no less effective. "Do you know what happened?" Olive asked.
Max curled up into himself as much as his snapped rib would allow—not much—and nodded with a whimper.
Olive brought her paw up to scritch at his headfur. It felt nice, felt like hardly any comfort at all. "Your friend said this wasn't your first time," Olive said. "Is that true?" He nodded, and she ran a claw down to underneath his chin. Despite each claw being about as big as his head, she moved them with dexterity and care. It felt nice. It almost distracted from the scent of applesauce that was driving his stomach insane.
He could only give the cup of mush a desperate look, though. His paws wouldn't listen when he told them to reach for it. He didn't have to, in the end, because Olive scooped up another spoonful and brought it over for him. He eagerly opened up and gulped it down with a wince. Already, the pain was starting to fade, but he still didn't want to push his luck.
When Olive started to go for another spoonful, he shook his head, and she stopped. She placed it back down in front of him and let her paw rest on his head again. "Think you can talk for me?" she asked.
Another question Max was dreading. He didn't want to try, didn't know if he could handle losing his speech again. As Olive stared down at him, though, he knew he didn't have a choice. After all, it's hard to say you don't want to try without speaking. His paw went to his scarf… they'd let him keep his scarf on? He looked down and, sure enough, it was right there.
"Your friends said you'd need that," Olive said, administering a few more comforting pats.
Max nodded in thanks, nuzzling into his scarf a bit. He thought about pulling his tail up to hug, but… no, he'd rather keep it beneath the sheets for now. Another tap from Olive brought him out of his worried thoughts and back into his worried moment.
"Pii…," he started, and his ears immediately fell. It was exactly what he feared and exactly what he expected, but he tried his damnedest not to despair. He started to grit his teeth but immediately stopped at the unbearable pain. Right, his jaw hurt, too. What did he do? Deep breaths, he needed a few more deep breaths. In, out. In. Out. He could do this. "Pi?" Or not.
Regardless, Olive ruffled his headfur with a smile. "Good, you can tell," she said. Max narrowed his eyes up at her, but she kept on that sickening smile of encouragement. "I know a few things that might help, okay? Want to try them?"
If Max could speak, he would've asked if he really had a choice. But he couldn't, so he didn't. Instead, he nodded.
"Can you say 'bee' for me?" Olive said.
Max almost rolled his eyes before he realized she meant the sound, not the word. It was certainly more manageable. The first tries went nowhere, but he stopped to take a breath before shocking the shit out of the applesauce in front of him. Food, right. He needed that. He reached a paw out for the spoon, but it was just out of reach. When he tried to stretch just a bit more, he started to tip over.
He threw his reaching paw down to catch himself and smacked the cup up and into his face. The cup was light, so it didn't hurt, but he did splash almost all of the applesauce onto his face. He should've been embarrassed, but he was too out of breath. His heart was beating out of his chest, and his paws all felt cold.
His face started to feel cold, too, but for a different reason. Without his notice, Olive had moved him back into his bed, head on his pillows, and the rest under his covers. Now, she was dabbing at his face with a wet rag. "Take it slow, okay?" she said.
Max had never felt this weak in his life. Taking it slow at this point might as well mean not moving at all. He really wished he hadn't ruined the rest of his applesauce, though—he was starving. His stomach tied itself in knots to fill itself with the few milliliters of food it had. He brought his paws up to hold it with a groan. His vision started to fade as he looked up, trying to think of how to ask for something to eat.
Before that could bother him, he was waking up again. Same place. Same pain. He had just enough energy to crane his neck up and see Olive reading a book in the same corner he'd seen her in earlier. Even lifting his head that far felt exhausting. He had to let it fall, but he saw Olive moving in his peripheral vision.
This time, he was actually able to stay conscious for the time it took her to walk over to his bedside. "Feeling any better?" she asked.
He'd glare at her, but he didn't have the energy. No, he wasn't better. He felt like shit, so he narrowed his eyes and tried to ignore how hard it was to keep them from falling the rest of the way. They kept getting heavier, though, so he had to force them back open and brought his paws up to rub them awake. His paws still felt cold. "Ugh," he groaned. "What happened?"
"Well, look at you," Olive said. He'd seen himself plenty, so he shirked the request and stared up at her instead. "You won't need any speech therapy after all." That made it clear—so clear that he felt like an idiot for forgetting.
"They said it couldn't have been a long black out, but still," Olive said, reaching down to pat his head again. "Great job!" Max tried to match her enthusiasm by incorporating a forced smile into his grimace. It didn't matter, though, since Olive didn't seem to be paying much attention to him. "Especially after that idiot Johnstone…." She shook her head and waved the thought away with a paw. "Never mind."
Hospital politics weren't Max's cup of tea, so he happily neglected to ask about that. Speaking of neglecting, he could feel his stomach ripping itself out again. His face screwed into a grimace while his arms flew down to clutch his stomach—which immediately aggravated his rib. He threw his arms back down to the bed and stared up at the ceiling.
Somehow, he was healed enough that this didn't immediately knock him out. He got to endure the full extent of the pain. Lucky him. "Food," he groaned.
"I'll call someone," Olive said, tugging on a rope next to his bed without moving an inch. Max had no doubt that sent some signal somewhere, but he was starving and he needed food immediately. "It shouldn't take too long."
"Can't you just go get it?" he asked.
Olive's sickly-sweet countenance finally cracked at that, but she didn't look hurt. "No," she said. With a deep breath, she rubbed at his head a bit and gave an apologetic smile. "I'm sorry if you want to be by yourself, but we can't really risk leaving you alone."
The door popped open before Max could even give her a confused glance, and a chansey peeked in to ask, "What's she need?"
An odd way to refer to the person they were talking to, or were they asking about Olive? "Hungry," Olive said. "She's still not ready for solid food, and some pain medicine would help a lot, too." The chansey nodded and ducked back out, leaving Max reeling. It felt nice that they defaulted to that. Did they maybe think she….
Max shook his head before he could consider it. After the Dungeon, the gible, he knew it wasn't worth it. He was just deluding himself. Eleos or someone else probably told them. That was going to be awkward to walk back. Besides, he had more pressing questions.
"You can't risk leaving me alone?" he asked with one ear raised. "Is it really that bad?" Weak as he felt, he doubted he could just suddenly keel over at this point. "Am I sick or something?"
Olive's smile twisted a bit as she reached down to scratch at Max's chin. "Not quite," she said. "How much do you remember of what happened?"
Max opened his mouth to ask for clarification but held back. He had a good feeling he wouldn't get a straight answer. As much as he didn't want to, he'd already started thinking back to then to remind himself why he shouldn't get used to everyone calling him 'she'. "Dungeon, krookodile, we got separated," he mumbled. Surprisingly, most of it came fairly easily. "Most of it?"
Olive nodded with that same melancholic smile. Max couldn't understand why her mood had suddenly soured, so he tried to think back. A touch of fear came when he remembered the garchomp that nearly killed him on its own, but he was pretty sure he escaped that one.
After that, it all faded into smoke. He could barely make out wisps, but it almost felt like apophenia he wanted to see. Same as before, he only had one concrete memory. "I was running from something," he said.
The chansey popped in again with a tray on their head. They rushed over to give it to Olive, then rushed back out. Must have been a busy day.
The same scent as earlier wafted into Max's nostrils and made his mouth water. Really, any scent would've done so, but it helped that it was applesauce. Olive had hardly put the tray down beside him before he snatched up the cup and started shoveling the food down. It still hurt his throat to swallow, but he was too hungry for that to matter.
It was gone before he knew it. He scraped along the sides and the ridges of the cup, but that barely even accumulated to half a spoonful (If he'd been using one). It was for the best, though, since his throat was starting to hurt just a bit more than his stomach.
Olive held a cup of water out to him with a white tablet balanced on an outstretched claw. Max tilted his head at the offer but hesitantly reached out for the pill. "It's for pain," Olive said. Max quickly chucked it down his burning throat and snatched up the water to douse the flames. "Good, you've got some more energy," Olive said with a nod.
Usually, Max would expect some teasing or other, but Olive sounded completely clinical. She was a doctor (he assumed), but it still felt so strangely sterile. He laid back to catch his breath some more while Olive collected his discarded cups and spoon (as well as wiping at his mouth with a napkin).
He didn't have anything more to say, so he just lay back to rest a bit. Not to sleep, he doubted he could've if he tried, but just for some time to let the applesauce and the painkiller get into his system. All the while, Olive kept a watchful eye on him. Even if he closed his eyes, he could feel her staring at him. It brought the same question she'd dodged earlier right to the front of his mind.
"Why can't I be alone?" Max asked. He doubted he was going to get a straight answer, but he had nothing to do but pester this woman for information, so he was willing to try.
Olive sighed and pat his head, then said, "So you don't hurt yourself."
Max blinked. He looked at her same expression and had a bit of a better time making sense of it. "Like, falling out of bed?" he asked, but he knew the answer before she shook her head.
"How much do you remember?" Olive asked. "Do you remember how you ended up fainting?"
"I… there was a garchomp?" Max mumbled, but he couldn't get his mind to focus on that. It didn't matter anywhere near as much. "I had to run from something." Despite his will, though, the memories came on their own. The garchomp had hurt his rib, but what happened to his tail? It hurt the most. "Running."
Whatever had been chasing him, that must have been it. He could barely recall the shrieking pain of some monster digging its teeth into him. His eyes drifted down to it on their own. The blanket covered it, but it was a thin sheet. He could make out its outline.
He tried to lift his tail to make the outline more obvious and felt all of the pain hit him at full force the instant it pressed against the sheet. It hurt, he saw white, but the pain killer would help soon. Even with that one instant, he knew he'd seen more of its outline. He ignored the pain and reached down to rip the sheet aside and look at his tail.
It was the same tail he'd seen since he woke up in that body. Brown base that quickly led to yellow, zig-zagging up a few times to its broad, flat end. It had two key differences now, though. For one, the broad part had been completely covered in bandages (those bandages having noticeable splotches of red), and the very end wasn't flat anymore. Right in the middle of the far side was a jagged arc. A bite mark.
"N-no," Max mumbled. This—he knew it wasn't what it looked like. Whatever had been chasing him—that's what did it! "Th-this, I was—it was, I didn't! Th-the thing chasing me, it." He couldn't stop himself from slipping anymore. He just shut his mouth, shaking his head.
"Max," Olive whispered, rubbing his head some more. Her touch was the only thing keeping him sane at the moment, and it somehow made him even more frustrated. "We had to pump chunks of it out of your stomach."
Max kept shaking his head, but the motion slowed. His jaw still hurt. He couldn't have solid food. His throat. It was all starting to make a lot of sense. His paws felt cold again while he wondered how much blood he lost. Wonder all he wanted, though, he knew the important parts now. For certain. He'd bitten the end off his tail. He finally stopped shaking his head.
"Oh," Max said. "So that's why you called me she." Once again, she fell unconscious.
"I'm searching for some disbelief that I can still suspend
But never mind the furthermore; the plea is self-defense again"
Max didn't really know when she woke up this time. Her eyes were open, and she could see the ceiling. One moment, she was blissfully unconscious. The next, she was not. She heard the flick of a page turn in what she'd decided just then to dub 'Olive's Corner'.
It was a stroke of genius, really, that name. You see, it was a corner, but that much was obvious. Anyone could identify that much. No, the true brilliance shone when adding 'Olive' into the mix. It was no ordinary corner; it was Olive's Corner. After all, Max had seen her there upwards of three times at this point. The kangaskhan practically lived there.
This was the best Max could do at the moment. She wanted to think of absolutely anything other than the topic eating at her thoughts. No matter what frivolity she occupied herself with, though, the jagged end of her tail stabbed its way back into her awareness. Hadn't she taken a pain killer?
Maybe she needed another, but she didn't know how long it had been since her last. More importantly, however, was what she'd need to do to ask for one. Even if she managed to tug on one of the call ropes herself, Olive would no doubt see as much. If Olive knew she was awake, she'd probably want to talk about precisely what Max did not want to talk about. So, for the time being, Max stewed in her pain, still as stone.
Was Olive even looking, though? Could she even see Max? Olive was definitely there, Max didn't need her awareness to tell as much, but how enthralled was she in that book? If Max wanted to check, though, she'd have to take a peek. She resolved to absolutely not do that. Not under any circumstances.
When Max took a peek, Olive was walking over. Max jumped at the realization, but she was still too weak to really move. Hopefully Olive hadn't noticed. Max jerked around a bit with the subtlety of falling rocks and tried to roll over onto her sid—rib was still broken—she cinched her eyes shut and flopped down onto her back. On the bright side, that maneuver ensured she didn't open her eyes.
Unfortunately, a pained grimace didn't really look like sleeping. Maybe Olive would buy it anyway?
"Are you all right?" Olive asked. "You haven't said a word in the twenty odd minutes you've been awake." Not only did Max's rib hurt, now, but she'd blown her own cover the moment she'd woken up. Her tail thrashed a bit in frustration, rubbing the bandages in just the wrong way against her blanket.
"Hurt!" Max shouted while she still had her speech. Sure enough, the moment her brain got the signal from her tail, she was whimpering in feral. Both hurt too much for her to get a single thought through, but neither pain was enough to push her past the point of consciousness. That had to mean she was getting better. She could endure so much more of the pain's full force.
Joy.
Olive jammed a tablet between Max's lips with her claw and said, "Here." Max gulped it down in an instant. The pain remained for now, but the incoming relief gave her enough strength to open her eyes. Olive held another cup of water over Max. Right, that was probably important to the process.
Max opened up and let Olive pour it straight in. She wasn't going to even try doing it herself until the pain abated. Once the water wet her tongue, she realized how thirsty she was. Olive gave her little sips while she stood over her until the cup ran dry. Max swished the last bit of water around to try and wet her mouth some more and found a few other little stabs of pain waiting in her gums.
"Feeling better?" Olive asked. Despite the new stinging in her mouth, Max nodded. Olive gave her a pat and put the cup on the side table. Max didn't even bother hoping Olive would return to her corner. She knew her luck by now.
Olive stood over Max with the same, clinically caring smile. She kept quiet while Max was still wrestling with the worst of the pain, at least. Over time, though (quite a bit sooner than Max expected, even), Max's grimace faded with the pain since she didn't have the strength to keep it up, either.
Instead of interrogating her, Olive let an eerie silence fill the room. The flicker of the lights, the sway of the draft, and all sorts of pitter pattering past the door. It suffocated Max. She didn't know how to break it, absolutely needed to, but Olive's watchful stare made it hard for any thought to get through—especially knowing the reason she was watching so intently.
"I didn't do it," Max blurted. "Or, erm." She shrunk into her sheet. It felt like she'd just denied taking a cookie with her paw in the jar. "It, I wasn't… y'know, there." She looked away with her paws wriggling into themselves. "I didn't want to do it, I mean," she looked up at Olive with pleading eyes and a forced chuckle, "w-why would I?"
A new cup of applesauce greeted her from the side of her bed. "I'm not sure," Olive said, nudging the applesauce into Max's reach. "Why would you?"
Max snatched the cup up and tipped it into her mouth without waiting for Olive to give her a spoon. The hunger dimmed to the background with all the rest of her pains if she let it, but the instant she thought about food, it was unbearable. This elicited a concerned hum from Olive, but Max didn't much care.
Her only joy in that place couldn't last forever, though—especially when she ate it so ravenously. In mere seconds, she was left with an empty cup and Olive staring down, waiting for an answer. Max surrendered the cup and kept her eyes firmly down and away from contact. They went to her tail. Even under the blanket, she could still see it; even with the pain killer, she could still feel it.
"I was feral," Max said. She shrugged, still afraid to look up at Olive. "I don't even remember doing it, how should I remember why?" She had to fight the urge to wiggle the nervous energy out through her tail. "It was probably just the Dungeon Sickness or whatever."
"That's possible," Olive said. She took a seat next to the bed and still towered far over Max. It was a wonder she wasn't more intimidating. "After all, that certainly makes Pokémon act irrationally." Max nodded along, but she felt this needling unease in her gut. "But it doesn't act entirely on its own. Have you ever had any problems with your tail before?"
"N-no," Max mumbled. Another blatant lie. She didn't even want to bother having Olive unravel it. "Or, a bit." Then again, if it was so obvious a lie, why ask the question in the first place? Olive no doubt already knew the answer.
"A bit?" Olive asked. She reached to the side and poured Max another cup of water. "How so?"
"It's nothing," Max said. She accepted the water when Olive held it over her, but didn't ask for more. Maybe in a moment. She was pretty thirsty, but she was also increasingly uneasy. "It's just always made me uncomfortable." She shrugged to try and seem nonchalant. It wasn't very effective.
"Your friend told me you were wearing a tail-sleeve before this happened," Olive said. Max bit her cheek, wondering which traitor just added themself to her hit list. "Did you feel like your tail didn't match how you see yourself?"
"What do you want me to say?" Max growled. "No. I didn't like it. But I don't like most things about how I look, and I don't see bite marks anywhere else." She was glad to have the sheet covering herself so she didn't have to look closely at herself. Even still, she could feel it. Every part of her body that felt the slightest bit off that she always ignored before Olive decided to bring it to the forefront.
"So, the tail-sleeve was a way of correcting how people saw you?" Olive asked. Max wanted to bite her for this active-listening bullshit, but she bit back on the temptation to nod instead. "Then why do this to yourself if you already had a solution?"
"Just fucking look at me!" Max screamed, throwing her arms down to gesture to the rest of her horrid self. "What's a tail-sleeve gonna do when I look like this?!" She didn't have the energy to keep shouting like this, but she didn't have the strength to stop, either. "It's not gonna fool anyone! People just need to take one look and see me for what I really am!"
Max gripped her bed sheet with both paws, nothing but a fire of despair keeping her conscious. She drew on the anger as best she could to try and pull her speech back. "I'm. A. Guy." she growled out syllable by syllable. "I look like a guy. That's all anyone sees. That's all I'll fucking ever be." She'd managed speech, but cracks invaded every other syllable. Despite the despair, she couldn't spare a tear.
She didn't want to be there. She didn't want to talk this over. She didn't want to explain in detail every single thing that bothered her about her looks, or her tail, or her voice because she never wanted to think about them in the first place. She just wanted to ignore this like she'd done since she was fourteen—just ignore it, shut up, and pretend she didn't hate the role she had to fill more with every passing day. Just be normal—she just wanted to be normal.
Outrage couldn't dull the despair forever. She couldn't hold back the tears when they finally came. She couldn't curl up into a ball when the sobs started to come. She couldn't help but lay motionless, staring at the ceiling while the sobs wracked into her rib; she couldn't dull them enough to stop the pain; she couldn't change who she was; she couldn't change how she felt; she couldn't change how she looked; she couldn't be who she wanted, couldn't look right, couldn't live in a body that didn't feel alien, couldn't explain or understand why she felt any of it, couldn't face the reality or find a fantasy to indulge. She couldn't even hope for something better. She couldn't be anyone but the detestable guy she'd always been.
Olive's paw rested on Max's shoulder. Sobs still shook through her, but she could feel Olive's paw, now. Olive gave her a comforting squeeze and whispered, "It's not all you'll ever be." The empty comfort didn't help in the slightest. "You can be a girl, if you'd like."
An empty promise only twisted the knife further in Max's heart. "I wish you were right," she whimpered.
Olive squeezed her shoulder again, then pulled her paw back to offer a pamphlet with her other. 'Transitioning' read across the top. Max hesitantly took it with her own paw and gave it a closer look. Right under the title read, 'So, you want to be a girl?' in the gaudiest, glitteriest cursive purple that she'd ever seen. It was so kitschy that it was cute.
Her paws opened it on their own, and she blazed through the first page. It felt like a fantasy on paper. "Transgender," she read aloud. It… it actually sounded familiar. She could almost remember it, but she couldn't tell from when. Every word melted into the next after that one. She didn't need a definition for what every treatment entailed or what to expect because none of it could match the value of knowing she wasn't alone.
She wasn't insane. She wasn't the first. This was what Neb meant when she mentioned transitioning. Max found herself cursing Neb for not pressing the issue further, but she knew she'd have just shoved the issue out of her mind. She'd never known there was a solution out there.
Her eyes glued to the page 'Mammalian Hormone Replacement', reading and rereading every single word to make sure she wasn't hallucinating them, dreaming this all. It felt dangerous to let herself believe it, as if she was signing up for inevitable disappointment. After all, the timeline mentioned 'breast growth', and she was absolutely certain she'd never seen a pikachu with tits when she was a human.
Not in any official media, at least.
"Are you int—"
"KA PI CHU!" Max screamed, throwing the pamphlet at Olive. She'd completely forgotten anyone else was in the room with her. Despite nailing her right in the nose, Olive hardly flinched. "Ch-Pichu!" Max started to cower into her scarf, not sure if she was more embarrassed or ashamed.
"Don't worry," Olive chuckled. She leaned over and picked the pamphlet back up off the floor. When she offered it, Max snatched it out of the air. "Sorry for scaring you." Olive rubbed the tension out of Max's head.
"I-It's fine," Max muttered. She couldn't figure out if she needed to hold onto the pamphlet as tight as her paws would let her or gentle enough that it didn't damage any of the ink. "S-so, can, how do I start—Can I? When?!" She looked up, practically begging. No matter how bad it hurt, she was fully ready and willing to get on her knees if she had to.
"Slow down," Olive chuckled; Max would have collapsed if she wasn't already laying flat on her back. "We just need informed consent, and then you can start."
"I do!" Max shouted, nodding vigorously enough to hurt. "Can, who do I inform? Can you? I inform my consent!"
"Deep breaths," Olive said, reasserting her professionalism by fighting back her laughter as hard as she possibly could.
"Does that inform my consent?" Max asked.
Olive answered with a silent stare down, waiting for Max to calm down enough to listen. Max did her best to oblige, but it was literally impossible, so she just slowed her breathing half-way closer to normal and bit her cheek to preemptively hold back any more outbursts.
"Good," Olive sighed with a smile; Max bit down harder. Olive reached under the bedside table and pulled out a small stack of papers held together by a pen in the corner. She pulled the pen off and gave Max the papers. "I need you to read this." She showed the pen to Max before putting it on the table. "Then, you can sign it, and we can get you started."
Saving the world was easier than this. Max was a fairly strong reader, but she wasn't quite at the level required to instantly read four pages. Even skimming, it would take upwards of two minutes. It was what she needed to do, though, so she buckled down, bit her cheek harder—it was starting to bleed—bit her cheek softer and got to reading.
Most of it was just more detail on what the pamphlet had already mentioned. She considered arguing the pamphlet was enough, but that would risk precious seconds she didn't have. If she didn't get this process started in the next two minutes she was absolutely certain she would die. Finally, she reached the bottom of last page and looked up, announcing, "Done!"
"Good," Olive said. She reached over to pick up the pen but looked at Max before giving it to her. "Any questions?" So close, yet so far.
"Nope!" Max said. Olive gave her a stern look, so she smiled wider until Olive finally saw reason and brought the pen down to her. Max snatched it out of her paws and started rubbing the tip uselessly into the paper before realizing it still had the cap on. Taking it off gave her just enough time to have exactly one thought, and she realized she did actually have a question.
"S-so, actually," she mumbled. The nub of the pen was already on the line, but that conversation she'd had with Neb held her back. "I do have one question." She stirred awkwardly in her bed. How was she supposed to ask this? Olive was a doctor, though, right? She took a deep breath and put her arms down. "So, if. How many… parts do I have to… y'know." She wanted to throw the sheet over her head. "Lose?"
"Surgeries?" Olive asked. Max nodded and got another rub to her head. "This is only about hormone replacement. Any surgery is up to you." Max could breathe again. "If you'd like, I'm sure someone could help with your tail as well." Olive's clinical smile finally managed to actually warm Max's heart.
Max looked down at her tail again, but it was still covered by the sheet. Putting the pen in the paw holding the papers, she threw the sheet aside to get a good look. Imagining it ending as a cute little heart was fun. It would definitely look more natural, too. Yet, as she looked at the jagged curve, still covered in (fresh, this time) bandages, she smiled.
"I don't know," she said. "I kinda like it." With that firmly decided, she pulled the paper back up, signed the dotted line, then eagerly thrust it up.
Olive happily took it and tugged on one of the ropes by the bed. "We'll get this filed away, then get you start—"
Max leapt up to wrap her arms around Olive's neck in a hug so tight she might as well have taken a hammer to her rib. "Thank you!" she cheered. The pain almost instantly outpaced the medicine, and she was unconscious before her grip loosened.
CONTENT WARNINGS CONT:
Medical Environment and Procedures: This chapter takes place in a hospital mostly. There are very short sections that imply Max getting stitches and having his stomach pumped.
Severe Injuries: Max has broken a rib and sustained severe blood loss. He is given pain medication, but the pain remains an ongoing problem.
Blood: No dripping, but there is brief mention of bloodied bandages. When Max first tries to lift his tail against the sheet, skip to right above the next scene break.
Gender Issues: Max is asked directly about his struggles with gender. Due to the circumstances, he is very pessimistic about it as a whole and is not kind to himself. The most egregious thing he says is to do with him stating as fact that, essentially, he cannot change his gender, which could also imply that others can't. This is of course false, and he is proven wrong very quickly.
Self-Harm: It is revealed that the monster at the end of the last chapter was Max's tail, and he attacked it himself. Because of this, medical staff are wary about leaving him alone. Self-harm is only directly mentioned once, but Max does spend some time arguing that what he did wasn't the same.
