Chapter Text
It starts as a twinge of pain in his head, just above his temples.
He doesn’t even mention it to anyone the first time. He’s used to a coming-and-going pain, from old injuries and overexertion and a plethora of other factors his more empathetic friends worry themselves sick over every time they’re brought up.
(He’d once made an off-handed comment in front of Amy about spontaneously vomiting every few days for a few months a while back. After about half a dozen visits to various physicians, he’s decided to be more mindful about what he lets slip in front of Amy.)
He’s been living in the past for over half a year now, long-since settled into routines. Despite his firm belief that he should be in the future, serving as their protector, his friends had encouraged him to relax for a little while, find his place with them. It felt strange for weeks, couch-hopping as he stayed over at friends’ homes. But as time went by, and things found their way to a semblance of normal, it was… Nice. It felt alright to be in the past. It was far more enjoyable, certainly.
So, when the pain in his head comes, he moves on from it. It doesn’t even last more than a few minutes.
The pain starts to grow familiar. It starts to overstay its welcome. It starts to do more than just twinge, as it coils into something Silver finds more than simply “uncomfortable.”
He tries not to pay it much mind, even as it starts to nip at him.
Espio tucks his hand into Silver’s paw, pulling him along the bank of a stream near the Seaside City coastline.
“It’s a beautiful spot,” he explains, eyes focused on the path ahead of him, hand squeezing reassuringly. “It has an excellent view of the city on one side, and the ocean on the other. You’ll love it, I’m certain.”
“I thought it was called Seaside city,” Silver teases, squeezing back.
“Hm, semantics.” The ninja laughs quietly, before glancing over his shoulder. “Although, if you’d really like to know, oceans are much larger. Although the terms ‘ocean’ and ‘sea’ are often used interchangeably, they are distinct.” He smiles at the hedgehog, before turning back and focusing on the path ahead once more. “I suppose I should use more precise language.”
“S’pose you should,” Silver responds snarkily, before clarifying, “I was just messing with you, though.”
He feels Espio squeeze his paw again. “I know.”
They walk together in a comfortable silence for a while, before the foliage opens into a clearing near the edge of a steep drop off. The height nearly makes the psychic’s head swim (maybe Blaze really is rubbing off on him), but he anchors himself against the cold hand tucked in his paw, and looks out into the distance.
On one side, the sea bats against the rocky shoreline, waves lapping at the edge of the land in white, foamy waves. Water splashes up against the rocks and sand, spraying mist into the salty, humid air. Blue, so much endless blue, sways and drifts in near-rhythmic patterns across an endless sprawl of azure.
On the other side, the city bustles in a cacophony of bright colors and lights. Little movements, just barely visible from this distance, dance about the cityscape–tiny dots of action stretching out, out, towards the horizon, so small that Silver can’t even quite make them out.
“It’s beautiful,” he sighs, staring out into the distance. He turns back to smile at his partner. “Thank you for bringing me here, Espio. Really.”
“Of course,” the chameleon responds, his own smile mirroring his partner’s. “You’ve seemed… Distracted, as of late. I was hoping this would be a relaxing outing, to take your mind off of whatever’s troubling you.”
Silver nods, looking back out into the sparkling blue sea. “It’s perfect.”
He doesn’t mention the pain in his head.
The pain starts to become troubling.
The sunlight starts to bother him. Bright fluorescents make his eyes feel like they’re twinging in their sockets. Sudden and extraneous movement makes him woozy.
He’s playing hide-and-seek with Cream and Charmy, as per the kids’ request. Tucked between the foliage of a tree just barely in sight of the agency, he shades his eyes from the warm midday sun. He’s resting between the branches, nestled comfortably amongst the leaves, watching Charmy buzz around the agency’s backyard as he searches.
He closes his eyes. The sunlight makes his head thrum with pain, and the darkness behind his eyelids at least eases it slightly. He lets out a sigh, leaning against the branches, and letting his body relax into the wood. The ambient sounds of the city make its way to his ears, and lulls him into a half-comfortable state.
The next thing he knows, he’s being shaken awake by a pair of small hands around his shoulders. Charmy laughs, smiling big into Silver’s face as he exclaims, “Found you!”
Silver groans a little, his head throbbing at the sudden movement–but he forces a smile, responding with a warm, “Ha, yeah, you sure got me, huh?” He laughs hollowly.
“Yup! I gotchu!” Charmy confirms, buzzing into Silver’s chest and hugging him tightly (and it’s more of a tackle than a hug, really, Silver thinks–but his position amongst the branches is snug enough that he at least doesn’t topple over).
He bundles the bee in his arms, hugging him back snugly. Charmy’s grip is strong for his age, but grounding, and the psychic lets it pull his attention from his headache and into the present moment. Silver buries his fists into the fabric and thick fuzz under Charmy’s wings and keeps him held fast to his chest as he begins to maneuver them both out of the tree.
“Whoah–!”
A flicky zips through the air in front of them, flying into a nest high up within the branches. Charmy flinches in Silver’s grasp, and he jerks back reflectively, pitching out of the tree with the bee still tucked in his arms.
They fall, plummeting towards the ground for a mortifying second before Silver’s psychokinesis catches the two of them in a haze of cyan light. He orients himself upright, and releases Charmy carefully onto the ground, shaking.
They stare at one another, eyes wide, both heaving for breath as they recover from the scare.
“Let’s do that again!” Charmy cheers, flying into the air and shattering the tense silence. “That was fun! Again! Again!”
Silver groans at the mere thought of it. “No thanks, Charmy. I think that was enough excitement for me.”
“Aw, c’mon…”
Grabbing at his head with his paws, Silver doubles over himself.
“Silver?” Charmy asks, flying up to rest a hand near the top of the psychic’s head. “You okay?”
“Um…” Silver mumbles, pinching his eyes shut as the pain of his migraine cuts through the adrenaline like a knife. “Yeah, I just–”
He retches, dry heaving over the grass.
“Whoa,” he can vaguely hear Charmy say over the sound of him gagging. “That really was too much excitement for you…”
He tries to laugh, but ends up collapsing to his knees, pushing the heels of his palms into his eyes to try and alleviate the pain.
Charmy’s hand leaves his head momentarily, but returns to gently rub circles on his back (something he’s seen the other Chaotix members do to soothe the little bee, as well, he thinks absently). “Oh, um…” he starts, voice quieter than usual. “I’m gonna go get Vector and Miss Vanilla, okay, Silver?” The hand on his back pats him twice, before retreating.
“They’ll know what to do, trust me!” he hears Charmy shout over his shoulder as he buzzes back to the house.
He doesn’t argue.
The pain clouds his vision, making him groan periodically from where he lies on the couch of the Chaotix Detective Agency. They’ve graciously closed the blinds and turned off the lights, but the sunshine peeking through the cracks around the room has his head throbbing, regardless.
“Poor thing… Well, you’re not running a fever. Not for a hedgehog, at least,” Vanilla hums, pulling the thermometer from Silver’s ear and releasing the disposable cover with a pop. “When did this headache of yours start, Silver?” She smiles at him, feeling at his forehead with a gentle paw, despite having just checked his temperature with the thermometer.
“I don’t know,” he responds, soothed under the maternal affection, but feeling like he’s barely able to put his thoughts in order without throwing up. “A week ago? A month ago? It’s hard to tell.”
“Whaddya mean, maybe a week, maybe a month?” Vector asks, hovering over Silver with that look he gets when he’s knee-deep into cracking a case.
“I mean I don’t know,” the psychic groans, throwing an arm over his eyes. Vanilla, regrettably, retracts her paw. “It didn’t really hurt for a while, but now I just feel it, y’know?”
“Oh, Silver…” Vanilla sighs, and he hears the shuffle of fabric. He glances beneath his arm to see Cream climbing atop her mother’s lap, before letting the limb slump back down over his eyes. “I think it’d be best for you to see a doctor. A headache for more than a few days is certainly a cause for concern.”
He shakes his head (as best he can). “It’s no worries, really, Vanilla. It’ll go away. I’ll just power through it for a little longer, and it’ll fix itself. Trust me.”
“I dunno, kid…” Vector mumbles, placing his own hand over Silver’s forehead. He’s fairly certain the detective doesn’t know what he’s feeling for (Vector’s remarked about how warm the hedgehog was on more than one occasion), but the weight of his massive hand is comfortable. He lets it stay. “Maybe y’should see someone about this.”
“What about asking Tails?” Charmy suggests from where he hovers near Vanilla and Cream. He thinks he hears the little rabbit hum her agreement, too. “He kinda knows everything.”
Silver shakes his head again. “I’m not gonna bother Tails about this.”
“If you don’t want to see a doctor, it might be worth something,” Vanilla says. “He’s no physician, but he might have an idea we haven’t thought of.”
“I agree,” he hears Vector add, pulling his hand away from the psychic’s forehead. “I’d say if this whole mess doesn’t get any better by tomorrow, we oughta pay someone a visit.” He hears heavy footsteps retreating from the couch. “In the meantime, let’s get ya some ibuprofen.”
He feels a gentle paw rub against his cheek. “Oh, Silver,” Vanilla whispers to him. “I hope you feel better soon.”
And then, the pain becomes unbearable.
A few days after the brief drama with the flicky, Silver wakes in a haze of agony, slowly and entirely too quickly all at the same time. He leans over himself, curls into a little ball with his knees tucked to his chin, and rocks himself slightly. He does his best to focus his spinning vision.
He swears under his breath, feeling cold sweat beading, sticky and wet under his thick fur. He digs beneath his scruff and rubs a gloveless paw across his neck, trying in vain to get the feeling off of him. If anything, the movement makes him feel sicker.
Stumbling off of the couch, he drags his feet to the first-floor bathroom, and hunches over the toilet, emptying his stomach of what little is in it.
He feels a little better, he thinks absentmindedly, staring into the hazy, yellowish contents in the toilet bowl with glossed-over eyes. He collapses down to sit on the bathroom floor, and leans his head against a paw propped up on his thigh. He’s heaving for breath, he notices. He wonders when that happened.
He doesn’t know how long he stays like that, on the bathroom tile of the first floor of the Chaotix Detective Agency. Heaving. Breathing. Crying.
Crying?
He wipes at his face, then at his nose. He stares at the fur on his paw, now matted with tears and snot.
He stands up, flushes the toilet, washes his paws, and lies back down on the couch.
The sunlight makes his head feel like it’s going to burst.
He groans, sitting upright with what feels like an impossible amount of effort. He presses his bare paws over his eyes, finds that the pressure almost helps, and presses harder.
“Silver?”
In response, he groans again.
When Espio speaks next, his voice is right over Silver’s shoulder.
“Are you alright, Silver?”
He finds that he can’t quite formulate a proper response beyond another punched-out groan, as he curls into himself–the feeling of retching clawing up his throat, squeezing tight. He feels cool hands on his forehead, and then on his temples, thumbs applying firm pressure.
Espio sighs from where he stands in front of him. In a soft voice he says, “You need to see a specialist. I don’t believe home remedies and ‘waiting it out’ are cutting it anymore.”
“I’m fine, Espio,” he insists, despite every atom in his body suggesting otherwise. As if on cue, he gags, doubling over the edge of the couch with his palms still pressed over his eyes. The chameleon’s hands leave his head quickly, but return in favor of petting rhythmic circles into the fur on his back as he’s bent over.
“I’d beg to differ.”
“Whatever.”
Another sigh. “Silver. I’m at least going to bring you to Tails. And if he tells us it’s just a migraine, then we’ll go to a real physician. I won’t take ‘no’ for an answer.”
“Well, you’ll have to. I’m fine,” Silver argues, despite his shaking limbs. He uprights himself again, and Espio pulls his hand back.
He takes his paws from his eyes. Looking up, he finds the chameleon staring at him with a hard expression, brows furrowed as he looks at the psychic as if there’s something he can’t quite grasp.
“You’re upset.”
“Fucking clearly, Espio,” he grumbles, rolling his eyes and looking at the floor.
“Because you’re in pain?”
“Obviously.”
Kneeling in front of him, forcing eye contact as Silver’s downward gaze meets his own, Espio asks, “Or are you afraid to reach out for help?”
The hedgehog snorts dismissively. “As if.”
“Silver.”
He’s quiet.
“Silver–” Espio starts again, reaching out towards him. Silver pushes his hand away, looking anywhere but the chameleon’s face.
“Leave me alone, Espio,” he whispers, eyes welling with tears, despite himself. He wipes at his face roughly, wrists coming away wet.
The chameleon stares at him for a beat longer, before deciding, “I’m taking you to Tails’ at half past two. Be ready.” With that, he stands, and walks from the room.
Quietly, Silver scrubs at his eyes as the tears refuse to stop.