Part I

You're makin' me crazy, takin' me

To new heights. Baby I

Just can't get enough. Sweet thing,

You're makin' me rough. You

Make me laugh, you make me cry. You

Frankly make me wonder why. But

All in all, what can I say? You

Are my love, and I am your day.

The wooden door was swung haphazardly open, leading to a polished wood floor and a bed tilted against the wall like a stick of butter. Slept-in sheets and comforters sprawled all over the bed itself, but this bed is not empty. A lone form lays, belly up, amongst this chaos, breathing fitfully but peacefully, as the form is deep in slumber. Suddenly, the form stirs, groaning into life.

Sonic the Hedgehog tossed his head over the side of the bed and threw up into a bucket conveniently placed beside him. "Yuck." He moaned, spitting some more vomit into the plastic bucket before weakly rising from the bile-fest and, arms shivering under his weight, pulled the covers up to his chin.

Now, he shouldn't be hungry-heck, he shouldn't even have an appetite!-after throwing up for twelve hours (it was more or less this length of time), but he regretted to tell himself that he was. In fact, he was worse than hungry. He was starving. His stomach was so empty, and his sickness would allow him no reprieve, that he could barely move. He was bitter cold and burning hot at the same time, his mind racing like a superfast locomotive back and forth, back and forth, careening in his head. And every once in a while, that locomotive exploded, forcing Sonic to cry out in pain at the migraine headache. He felt like he was dying, and indeed, he probably was.

"Ohah," He complained, blinding himself with one ice cold, ungloved hand. It was becoming increasingly embarrassing for him, that he, the fastest thing alive, was confined to a bed and could barely roll over from one side to the other, much less run a mile from here to there and be back before thirty seconds was up. He felt his fever rage like a fire through his body, but it was a cold fire, made from white and pale blue ice, and it froze his joints completely, making his hot blood run cold like a river in winter. Trembling, he rolled over, tucking his knees against his chest, and pulled the sheets and blankets further around him. His eyes closed, but darted fitfully around in the blackness before shooting open again.

With a sharp breath and sudden strength, he propelled himself upward from the bedclothes and fluffy pillows, panting. His heart was racing. "Eggman! I've got to go, to protect…" he paused, remembering. He smelled the bile in the bucket, and winced as he bent over it again and released more watery, and faintly bloody, vomit from his bowels. He leaned back against the pillows, shivering, and a growl lingered in his parched, nasty-tasting throat.

He couldn't fight Eggman, he couldn't protect his friends and the planet he loved so well, because he couldn't get up from his bed, and he couldn't stop vomiting. Besides, he reasoned with himself, he was far too weak to take down whatever deranged 'bot that old Egghead had in store for today.

Not to mention he'd been throwing up nonstop since three o'clock in the afternoon yesterday. And it was almost lunchtime now.

"Lunchtime." Sonic mused, licking his lips and rubbing his tummy with his palms. Oh, he was ever so hungry! He was faint, he was cramping up, with the hunger tearing up his insides as a cat will tear up its scratching post! He wanted nothing more than to eat all the chilidogs he could until he was half asleep from the fullness the meaty snack would give him!

But, he groaned, defeated. No matter how much his stomach might rumble, might beg, might plead to be filled and fed, he knew that to feed and fill it would only place all the more bile in that bucket, and he would be back at square one again. But, knowing that couldn't stop his desire. He still wanted to be fed as much as his poor tummy did. "Oooohh," he moaned, curling up. He was very much determined to go back to sleep, perhaps to dream of a full belly (which he considered to be a gift of the gods at this point) and better days.

But no sooner had he closed his eyes and had watched like being at a 3-D movie without proper eyewear his newest and most fantastic, psychedelic fever dreams yet to grace his dizzied mind, he then heard footsteps coming up his stairs.

Sonic was confused. Who would visit? He lay there on his side, curiously staring at the worn wooden stairs, running through his mind all the people who could possibly want (or dare) to visit him. Knuckles' footsteps didn't sound so light; he pounded down hard on the stair (Sonic's head thumped painfully briefly to think on the noise), Tails would just fly up the stairs…it couldn't be Rouge, he was screwed if it was Shadow…

Then a delicious smell hit him like an eight-ton truck. Suddenly, he was immersed in a field of wild flowers, smelling the distinct, sweet scent of freshly baked chocolate chip cookies, still mushy from the oven; now that made his stomach roar! But, as he was trying to calm his noisy insides, he realized exactly who that smell meant had braved germs and nasty vomit to visit him.

It was Amy.

"Amy." Sonic spoke in a heated, throaty whisper, gathering all of his strength to stand, pick up the full bucket and run, without spilling it, across the hall to the bathroom, empty it, wash it out, and get back before she had any clue he was gone.

Now, marvelously, Sonic had learned to move quite fast without anything in his stomach, faster than he could go on a full tank. But, this power could not be used often. He could not go far so fast running on an empty gas tank, simply because after the first mile he would get dizzy, and then maybe after the third mile, he would pass out from exhaustion. He also had little to no sense of direction, so if he was trying to get to his house in this way, he could end up in a desert. It was not often he summoned this amazing, short-lived power, but he so just now.

He cleaned out the bucket and traveled back just in time, because Amy was at the top of the steps. Sonic, standing by his bed after the energy-stealing super run, let out a short breath and collapsed into the sheets below. After giving himself a moment, he tugged the covers up around him again, moving back into the warm spot in the center of the bed, cuddling the blankets around his neck as Amy came into view. He managed to sit up weakly, tossing a half-smile her way.

"I thought Tails said no one would bother me." He rasped jokingly. "I don't need company. What are you doing here?"

"I came to take care of you." While Sonic's voice refused to have the energy to hold its usual character, Amy's was all the more alive, as her whole body seemed to be in comparison to Sonic's weak, sickly body. Amy pitied him, once so indefatigable, and now so poorly. She wanted to do anything to ease his suffering. "I'll start by easing a little food into your temperamental tummy." Sonic flushed, hearing her say the word, and her giggle told him she'd noticed, much to his chagrin. "Here. This should help." She tossed him a bag of saltine crackers.

Sonic sniffed at the dry, nearly tasteless food, and set it aside. He was starving beyond reason, however he didn't want to risk throwing up again. Especially in front of Amy, whom he knew to be particularly turned off by vomit. Part of the reason her career path had not been nurse-hood. Amy spied his reluctance and laughed.

"Don't worry, Sonic. Saltines are good for upset tummies. They won't make you barf." Sonic glared at her, unsettled. "They won't!" She protested fussily. "Cross my heart and hope to thump Egghead with my hammer!"

That made him laugh as he reached to take a tentative bite of one cracker. When nothing happened, he grinned and made short work of the remainder, a smile of satisfaction crossing not only his lips but his features as he traditionally crossed both hands behind his head, reclining into his pillows, eyes closed in a bliss.

It felt so good to feel food in him, Sonic could shout and scream and celebrate as if he'd just received a coveted award. But he didn't, naturally. He just lay in his bed, relaxing. He finally felt that he could, at long last, settle down and rest.

Amy giggled when she turned to look at him. "Feeling better with a little food in you, huh?" She teased.

"More than you know." Sonic responded, his voice smooth and silky. Amy smiled.

"Well, I must confess that I can't do much for you, save sit here and talk with you. You did part of my job for me, I think…" She was hinting about him cleaning up the bile, which made his heart jump into his throat.

Sonic swallowed it back down again, shrugging. "How do you know? I might actually be feeling better."

"How do I know, eh?" Amy mimicked, perched on the edge of his bed. "Let's see…I can think of a couple of reasons." Her eyes glinted in a teasing manner as she crossed her legs under her. "Reason number one: chilidogs."

Sonic winced and snuggled back down underneath the covers again. Comfort gone. He was feeling sick again. "Don't, Amy." He mewed weakly like a sick cat.

"Reason two, you absolutely refused to devour the crackers I gave you at first sight. And reason three…" She trailed off, seeing Sonic had been reduced to a lump under the covers. "Oh, I'm sorry, Sonic. I didn't mean it."

"No, no, you're right." His head appeared and he smiled limply, his eyes flickering like a candle trying to stay lit in pouring rain. "It's cool."

"I'm sorry." Amy repeated, leaning in to get close to him. "I didn't want to do this to you." She was resting against his body under the covers, this part being his chest, tears falling onto the comforter. Sonic felt the tears through the sheets and stroked her quills.

"Oh, Amy," he soothed. "I know. Please don't cry. It's all right. Don't cry, now. Shh." His trembling arms were quick to embrace her, despite the chill this wracked his body with. They lay there resting against each other for a few moments until Amy felt his breathing become slow and even. He was asleep.

Amy wriggled her way out of his arms, tucking them beneath the covers again. Then, after leaving a few bags of saltine crackers on his bedside table for him, she gathered up her stuff and went swiftly back to her house.