In the end they called for backup. Silver came over, looking uneasy but determined.
"You're giving the medicine to her yourself, right?" he said, warming up his psychokinesis by twirling a chair across the kitchen. "So I don't have to keep her hands free or anything?"
"Yeah," said Tails, checking the dosage carefully. "I doubt she'll want to take it, after all. So we may have to kind of . . . uh, persuade her to . . . But I hope it doesn't come to that."
"Gosh, this feels wrong," groaned Silver, grimacing.
"Not much other choice." Tails returned the grimace.
When Silver was ready, they carefully opened the basement door. They had been prepared for an infuriated charge, but not for Cream to be standing right at the door when they opened it. Before anyone could even register, she had rocketed into the kitchen, shooting right between Knuckles and Silver.
"Die!" she howled, scrambling for the kitchen drawers and beginning to open them wildly. What she was looking for, nobody felt like considering too deeply. Cheese had already flown into a panic and was ricocheting off the cabinets and ceiling, adding to the chaos.
"Catch her, Silv, now!" yelped Sonic. Silver aimed hastily, and Cream managed to spring aside before his psychokinesis caught. She stumbled slightly, recovering from the unplanned dive, and looked up with a glare like a wounded tiger.
"You . . . " she growled, flattening herself back against the refrigerator and glowering warningly at everyone in turn. Suddenly her eyes fell on Tails, and the little vial of medicine he was holding. With an unearthly howl, she threw herself across the room and drove Tails to the floor.
"Help!" Tails just had time to squeal, before Cream grabbed the medicine flask, swallowed its contents in one gulp, and fell back, coughing slightly. Within seconds her eyes seemed to glaze over, and she toppled sideways.
"Cream!" yelped Silver, catching her before she hit the floor.
"It's okay, it's okay," babbled Tails, sitting up looking understandably disheveled. "A-at least I think it's okay—it's a normal part of the reboot, I think—it knocked Sonic out too, it—"
Just then Cream's eyes fluttered open. She looked searchingly around, not speaking, as everyone waited with bated breath. Seeing that Silver was still holding her upright, she reached out one hand and grasped his wrist faintly.
"Was it a dream, Mr. Silver?" she whispered.
Cheese plunged from the countertop like a tiny blue meteor, latching onto Cream's shoulder with a muffled yowl previously unheard from the throats of chao. Cream's other hand strayed unconsciously over to draw the chao close, but her eyes remained fixed pleadingly on Silver's face.
"Um," whispered Silver awkwardly, trying to set her gently upright. "Um . . . L-look, don't worry . . . "
His hesitation was enough to let her know it had all been very real. She closed her eyes and drew in a shuddering breath, slumping against him and burying her face into the fluff of fur on his chest.
"Hey, uh . . . it's all right, don't worry . . . " said Silver, casting the others a helpless glance. "Say, h-how about we take you back to your mom, huh? Back to Vanilla?"
Cream didn't look up, but nodded slightly.
"Y-yeah, you just need a little rest, a little time," soothed Silver, trying to ignore the half-amused, half-sympathetic looks the others were giving him. He didn't exactly know what to do when a six-year-old latched irreversibly onto him and seemed bent on suffocating herself with his chest fur. "Okay, so, uh, I guess I'll carry you home? Let's go." Scooping Cream up as best he could, he trotted for the door.
"I'll come by for a checkup soon," called Tails quietly. Silver gave a slight nod, powered up his psychokinesis, and whisked outside.
For a while there was silence. At last Knuckles stirred and sighed.
"Well, that crisis is over," he remarked resignedly. "I'd better be getting back to Angel Island. I'm guessing you know how the medicine works now, squirt?"
"I've got the recipe," said Tails gamely. "If anything like this happens again, at least we'll know how to cure it right away." He smiled suddenly. "Oh! Let me call Vanilla!" A whisk of twin tails, and he disappeared into his workshop. A muffled crash and mutter of "ow!" came from that direction—all his stuff was still scattered all over the floor in there.
Amy, still at Vanilla's house trying to comfort the mother rabbit, answered the phone. Tails was left temporarily deaf in one ear after Amy's shriek of elation; there followed a crash of the receiver hitting the floor as Amy ran to tell Vanilla.
Silver was fast in the air, but he was only three-quarters of the way to Cream's house when he spotted Vanilla, running out to meet him.
"Hey, there's your mom," he told Cream gently. "Just a little—whoa!"
Without warning, Cream had flung herself out of his arms and was pounding towards her mother, leaping up to wrap her arms around her neck.
"Cream, Cream," whispered Vanilla tearfully, stroking back her daughter's ears as Cream babbled desperately into her shoulder. "It's okay. Shhh. It's okay."
Silver tilted his head, smiling, and turned to head home himself. This wasn't any kind of moment for intruding on.
Not everything settled down to perfectly normal, though. Tails went for the promised checkup the next day, and came back looking troubled—apparently Cream was shaken up even more badly than Sonic had been. Vanilla tried her best to comfort her daughter, and so did Tails, Marine, and Charmy, Cream's fellow Kid Brigaders. Vector was desperate to provide some aid to Vanilla and Cream as well, but his efforts produced predictable results; he would have torn out his hair in desperation if he had any. Amy of course did whatever she could, but nothing seemed to have any effect.
"Why don't you talk to her, Sonic?" Amy asked at last.
"Who, me?!" Sonic started and rubbed the back of his head anxiously. "Hey, I'd like to help and all, but you know I'm not really good at the whole talking thing—"
"Come on Sonic, please?" interrupted Amy. "You're the only one who's actually gone through this kind of thing before—maybe she just needs to know that someone really understands! Maybe you could be the only one to get through to her. Pleeeeeease, Sonic?"
Sonic folded his arms, weighing his options. For Cream . . . especially after he'd been the one to knock her out . . .
"Well, I can try," he said resignedly. "But seriously, just this once, and don't blame me if I just make it worse. I run and fight robots, I don't really do therapy."
"Oh, you'll do fine, Sonic!" exulted Amy. "You always make me feel better, just being around!"
Sonic fought the urge to raise his eyes heavenwards.
The meeting did not really go that well. Sonic cautiously let himself into Vanilla and Cream's house—a place he didn't really visit that often—and found it scented lightly with something like lavender, as always. Vanilla greeted him with a smile, also as always, but there were still clear signs of just how emotionally drained she was. From just over his shoulder, Sonic heard Amy giving a sad little murmuring sound, something about "she's dealing with so much . . . "
Well, he couldn't really deny that.
It turned out that Cream had been spending most of her days in the laundry room, buried in a laundry basket. Vanilla explained in a low tone that Cream had developed this habit when she was very small, finding comfort in a surrounding press of soft, detergent-scented clothing. She hadn't resorted to this practice for years—not since her father had died—but as of right now, very little was able to coax her out of there.
Sonic, feeling uncharacteristically awkward, went to the laundry room and softly closed the door.
"Hi Cream," he called lightly. "Are you in here?"
The laundry in a nearby basket heaved slightly, revealing a pair of frightened eyes.
"Hello," replied a timid, listless voice. Sonic drew in his breath resignedly and settled down in front of the laundry basket.
"Hey, don't be scared—I just wanted to talk with you a little. How are you doing?"
"I'm okay," came the quiet reply.
"Um . . . " Sonic collected his thoughts for a while, already getting the distinct feeling that he was screwing this situation up. He thought about apologizing for hitting Cream that night, but that would only remind her more of the bad things. So no, not that topic. He hoped she understood how much he regretted that.
"So, uh . . . do you think you'll be coming out of there soon?"
The laundry swayed slightly, in a motion that was clearly a shake of the head. Sonic sighed. He was horrible at mushy stuff, but he'd give it a try . . .
"Look, Cream. I know how it is. I went through it too, you know? And it is scary, that's for sure. I totally understand why you don't want to face too many people just now."
Cream sat up a little more, shaking a rumpled spare dress off her head and clutching Cheese close. She regarded Sonic quietly but sadly, silent.
"I know it's no fun remembering that kind of stuff," continued Sonic cautiously, "but the really important thing to remember is, nobody's holding it against you! Nobody's mad at you, nobody thinks it was your fault. We know you didn't mean any of it. We're all worried about you, and we're just happy you're all right now. Y'know?"
Cream smiled, a wan and polite gesture, conveying more pain than actual warmth.
"How about it?" coaxed Sonic, trying to smile genuinely in response. "The best thing to do is to take your mind off it—for me it was running, but I bet you've got something else you like to do, huh? Want to come and do something else, instead of being all miserable?"
Cream shook her head again.
"I'm sorry," she whispered.
"Nonono, don't apologize!" protested Sonic, aware that this conversation had now gone completely to the dogs. "Look, you don't have to move yet if you don't want to. But I just thought you should know, I understand how it feels, I'm here if you need me. Everyone else is here for you too. So . . . so you don't have to stay in that laundry basket forever, y'know?"
"Thank you," whispered Cream, forcing another smile. "N-not yet . . . "
Sonic let out a long breath as Cream burrowed back down under the laundry. He leaned against the washing machine, chewing his tongue morosely. Who was he kidding? He did know how it felt, and he couldn't blame Cream at all.
Frankly, the aftermath of possession was pure torture. It wasn't like waking up one morning and finding a bloody knife clutched in your hand, oh no. You remembered every last moment of it, Kodachrome-clear. It wasn't even like remembering a crime you committed while enraged. You might remember the actions in that case, but they would be tinged with the fury and incoherence of the moment, rendering them reassuringly other-worldly. It could feel like something else had taken over your body, then. Something very separate from the here and now.
The reality was much crueller. The memories were not only vivid, they felt normal. They lodged in your head right next to your memories of playing baseball and going grocery shopping, flavored with the same bland neutrality. You couldn't tell yourself that you didn't know what you'd been doing. You couldn't tell yourself that rage had taken over and turned you into a senseless beast. You were just filled with the overwhelming awareness that it was you. It was you who had tried to kill your friends, you who had craved blood and death. Calmly. As casually as if you had been going to the movies. It felt like part of your normalcy.
It was the worst kind of trauma, because it always whispered to you that doing these things was really just part of your character. It was a heck of a lot for even Sonic to take, and no six-year-old should ever have to deal with that kind of guilt.
As he got up and went out, spreading his hands helplessly in response to Vanilla's hopeful look, Sonic wondered briefly if Cream would ever be the same.
That evening, though, a breakthrough came in the most unexpected form. Trauma or no trauma, Team Dark was still expected to fulfill their usual mission quota. They were currently in—ironically—Station Square, lurking down an alleyway and waiting for a crime boss they were supposed to capture. Their usual silent efficiency was only ever so slightly shaken by the past few days' chaos.
A light scuffle came from a corner, and Shadow was on the source of the noise in an instant. It was fortunate that this particular mission denied him the license to kill.
"Yaghhh! Lemme go!" howled a familiar voice. Raising an eyebrow, Shadow stepped back and let the (surprisingly tiny) interloper drop to the ground.
"Bokkun?" said Rouge, mildly surprised. "What are you doing here?"
Omega gritted disgustedly from nearby. Shadow and Rouge themselves had no great personal dislike for Bokkun—seeing as they had no great personal dislike for Dr. Eggman. Omega, however, had a great personal dislike for the latter, and thus the former.
Bokkun seemed aware of this. As he scrabbled to get back upright, he cast Omega a nervous glance.
"Is he gonna blow me up?" he asked, pointing.
"Would you like him to?" Shadow asked back sardonically. Bokkun shuddered.
"Hold your peace, vile Eggman creation," cut in Omega, his voice somehow even more detached than usual. "I have no respect for the heinous Doctor, nor his usual creations, but I do respect sentient life. As you are a robotic construct displaying true sentience, I shall respect your right to continue living."
Bokkun didn't seem to quite register all of this, as he chewed his fingers nervously and glanced at Shadow and Rouge as if asking for a translation. Rouge obliged.
"He doesn't blow up sentient robots, it's too much like murder—and murder he reserves for Dr. Eggman only. Now beat it before he changes his mind."
"No, wait!" cried Bokkun, before Team Dark could continue down the alleyway. "I need to talk to you! About Cream!"
A moment of silent processing, then suddenly Bokkun was pinned back against the wall again.
"You," hissed Shadow, eyes blazing. "Dammit. Why didn't we think of it before?"
"Whaaaat? Owwww, you're hurting me!" protested Bokkun, kicking helplessly.
"It was you all along, wasn't it?" continued Shadow. "We threw out the idea of an Eggman robot being responsible, because we thought they were too stupid to carry out a stealth attack. But you—we forgot about you. You could do that. You've been sneaking in with some kind of poison all this time, haven't you?"
"Wh-what are you talking about? Poison?" gulped Bokkun.
"Don't play dumb." Shadow increased the pressure on the little robot slightly. "We might have let it drop if it was just the Faker you attacked, but Cream—when someone messes with Cream, the rest of us tend to get angry." He pressed a little harder; you could have sworn there was an audible crunch from Bokkun's body.
"What's happening to Cream? Is she poisoned? What's happening?!" he babbled on, looking near tears.
"Hold up there, Shadow," interrupted Rouge firmly. Shadow flicked one eye at her, questioning.
"Ease up a little on him. He may be telling the truth."
A quirk of an eyebrow. Really now?
"Yes, yes, I'm telling the truth! You havta believe me!" squealed Bokkun. Shadow let him go, and he dove unexpectedly to latch onto Omega's arm. "Go on! Hack me! Read my whole memory banks, you won't find anything about this, honest!"
Omega plucked the much tinier figure off his arm, flicking him away slightly. For a robot with two LED eyes and no mouth, it was amazing how clearly he could express disgust.
"I shall do nothing of the kind."
Meanwhile, Shadow and Rouge exchanged a meaningful look. Hacking was not something sentient robots took lightly; it was no more appropriate than organics invading each others' minds. If Bokkun was willing to undergo that to prove his innocence, he must really have something nagging him.
"He's had a crush on her for quite a while," said Rouge suddenly, watching Bokkun continuing to plead with an unmoved Omega. Beside her, Shadow tensed noticeably, his face darkening. Sure, he had no personal dislike for Bokkun, no particular loyalty to either the "good guys" or the "bad guys," but he still knew there were two opposing camps out there. The idea of sweet, innocent little Cream falling into the affections of the enemy was not a pleasant one.
"It's still possible that he really was carrying out Eggman's orders," countered Shadow quietly. "He just might not have known what the substance did, and now he's worried about what he's done."
"True that," Rouge murmured back. "Hm." She reached over and took Bokkun by one of his red boots, pulling him down to eye level and turning him to face her. "All right, kid. Tell us what you do know, and we'll tell you what we know."
Bokkun gulped, looking around anxiously.
"You won't tell Master Eggman? He doesn't know where I am, but he'll be angry if he knows about . . . about . . . "
"Won't say a word," said Rouge, with the easy casualness she shared between promises and lies.
Bokkun nodded and settled onto a crate, fiddling with his fingers.
"Master Eggman just got back from the mining operation in Merkel Peak a few days ago. He's been worried lately, about—I don't know, something he can't control."
"Which would be?" prodded Shadow.
"I don't know," Bokkun faltered. "Master Eggman doesn't tell me his plans, you know. He keeps them quiet, doesn't even let Maria know most of the time. And this is something he wasn't happy about, so he talks about it even less. I think—well—he said something about something getting loose, and he hadn't meant it to, and now he couldn't control it."
"Annnnnd?" continued Rouge, tapping her foot.
"That's all I know," whispered Bokkun. "I heard today that something had happened with Cream, because of the thing that had been released. Master Eggman has cameras, you know—"
"We know, we know," interrupted Rouge impatiently. "So, you heard about Cream and? . . . "
"I was worried," whispered Bokkun, hanging his head. "Master Eggman seems really worried about this thing that got out. I think he's scared it'll try to get him next." He looked around anxiously, as if worrying that his comment would somehow reach Eggman's ears. "But . . . but I figured if he was so worried, it must be something really bad, and I was worried about Cream . . . . " His eyes opened wide, pleadingly. "Is she all right? Please tell me, please."
"Depends on what you'd call 'all right'," shrugged Shadow. "She isn't ill, or injured, but she's not doing very well. She nearly killed several of us, and she's not happy about it."
"Can I see her?"
Shadow and Rouge exchanged glances, while Omega began to growl warningly in a back circuit somewhere.
"Tell you what," said Rouge at last. "We'll take you to Sonic and the others, you tell them what you told us. Then they'll decide whether to believe you and whether to let you see Cream. We have a crime boss to catch right now, but we'll meet you here tomorrow at noon. Dig?"
Bokkun nodded silently, his face an inscrutable mixture of terror and hope.