Birdsong played on the time traveller's ear in a way that so few other sounds could. Though the sound was ambient by definition, the sweet sound always managed to drift its way to the forefront of his mind. Others could walk beneath the roost of a hooting pigeon or straight by a flock of bluebirds without so much as a glance or a moment's misstep. He knew that his drawn gaze and moments of pause were the result to the sounds' absence in his life prior, that much of the noise he'd known had been rough and only served to direct him toward danger, but surely the beauty of the noise wasn't lost on others? Surely the chipper squawking of crows and laughing hoot of ducks didn't just go unnoticed?

It was in moments like that, and in moments like this, where Silver the hedgehog, age sixteen, was faced with the exceedingly chequered nature of his own experience. He sucked in a deep breath and cast his eyes down, feeling his brow immediately grow heavy at the sight of a series of metal buttons he still scarcely understood. His lips pursed, he felt a bead of sweat roll down the back of his neck, and then he blew. The shaky, discordant, sound of a consistent whistle, its pitch quickly modulating to make a crude melody was enough to send the birds scattering and brought his ears to furl.

The bottoming out of his lungs and a cough catching in his throat for the squealing to end after at least two painful minutes of playing. His hands caught his knees as heat began to fade from his cheeks, spluttered mouthfuls of air slowly restored his normality. In his right hand, presently pressed against his leg, was an artefact he had retrieved from the future; a world that'd had the remainder of its moon crash into the surface.

Presently however, his surroundings were that of the secluded royal gardens, specifically its orchard; a site he'd come to frequent during his infrequent stays in the Sol dimension. As he managed to rise, blinking the tears from his eyes, he took in the view of fully mature apple and pear trees along with their quarter ripe fruit. Not a single bird was in sight, much contrasting the state he'd found the little patch of woodland in. He heaved himself over to sit beneath a particularly broad-leafed tree, bringing his head back to rest against its brown bark.

For three days he'd been back, not from that destroyed world but from making sure it was put right; delivering the necessary information regarding Eggman's present plan to Amy and Tails, knowing they'd take the situation more seriously than the blue blur. He hadn't yet been to check how successful his gift of foresight had been utilised, due primarily to the insistence of his partner. Hopefully he wasn't spending too long out here, the purple feline was supposedly cloistered in a meeting focused on reallocating areas protected against fishing, but he had no idea how long that'd take. Yesterday she'd chewed him out for disappearing when her meeting had ended early, waiting for him at the palace's back door with an analytical frown on her face.

As he raised his instrument again, catching his hazy reflection in its dull and scratched metal, he couldn't help but recall how difficult it'd been to lie to Blaze. If it wasn't for his stashing of the flute in one of the garden's hedges, having hidden as part of an obfuscation that he'd just lost track of time while wandering the grounds, this whole effort would have already failed. Hiding this whole endeavour was strange, part of him felt bad for even doing it, but the hedgehog had his reasons.

Not the most recent time he'd left a destroyed future but the time before that, he'd arrived in her world on a late Winter evening. He'd found the world quiet, save for the crunch of snow beneath his feet. The hedgehog had manifested on the far end of the gardens, in a position not too distant from where he was presently sitting. Too exhausted from his efforts in the future, he'd been forced to trudge his way toward the palace. This effort though, that slow march through the snow, had proven more than worthwhile as a song trickled its way into his ears.

Her silhouette had been perfect, so warmly lit against the drawn curtains of her balcony. He'd recognised the music immediately and been thoroughly pulled toward it, but that sight had brought him to freeze. Blaze's skill with the violin hadn't existed in their prior life, it was unlikely that even one of the wooden instruments had survived on that world, but he'd become aware of it not long after meeting her. The feline didn't play often, but he'd heard songs drift from into the guest bedroom he often found himself resting in. Though he'd often expressed his amazement at her playing, but it'd only ever been met with embarrassment.

That night however, the sweet song she'd played had made an impact upon him unlike any other sound, even the fresh call of birdsong couldn't compare, and he knew it was a gift that he had to match. Exhaustion had fled his bones, granting him the will to fly up to her balcony and lightly rap against her windowpane. Caught in the act, embarrassed as she was, the princess had kept playing for him, sharing that song up until its conclusion… and then just a few more, after a claim that it'd been a while since she'd last practiced. That night had hung in his memory so securely that, upon sighting an opportunity during his next time traveling venture, Silver had no choice but to grab it.

Contrasting her well maintained violin, its wood so perfectly varnished and bow so thoroughly maintained, was his instrument. Though he had tried to clean it, the truth was that the flue was essentially a relic of the world it had belonged to; its exterior was scratched, and he had no idea whether its internals were whole. The psychic had found it in a destroyed Station Square music shop, beneath no fewer than eight smashed acoustic guitars. From damaged books, he'd managed to piece together what he'd hoped would be a guide on how to play the instrument, but it'd only got him so far before the language became too technical.

Shirking that thought, he pursed his lips again and retook the position the position he'd seen in a dozen torn diagrams; right hand facing forward and the left facing back, his thumbs securing the metal shaft aloft and trying not to let his gaze linger on its rusted sections. Blowing again, he managed to sound out a simple scale, the first thing he'd ever successfully played. He'd managed to memorise the finger patterns for a few simple songs, hot cross buns and over the rainbow, but his attempt at the latter continued to sound wrong as he heaved a fresh breath. His focus hardened as he blew again, attempting to maintain consistent airflow as he pressed the tabs in sequence.

Something was wrong, it just had to be, and he didn't want to blame it to blame it on the instrument, not yet at least. Setting the flute in his lap, the hedgehog looked down at his gloved hands and thought back. Blaze had made playing music look so easy, her movements had been so fluid and seamless. The idea that she had learned to instinctively understand where and how to draw the bow along the strings was more than otherworldly to him, it appeared completely divine. His instrument had buttons, simple things to press, that surely meant it was an easier sort to learn. Why was it so hard? He'd been working at it for almost ten days!

Letting the instrument fall to his lap, he ran his hands through his quills. He wasn't remotely close to where he wanted to be; he couldn't get through one song, let alone the one he planned to play for her. Blaze had a preference for classical music, but only one such song had seemed remotely within his reach; canon in D, whatever that meant. He didn't think it was a great name for a song, but the book he'd found it in stated it was from the seventeenth century; that certainly meant it was old enough to be classical. At the same time though… it seemed so much harder than everything he'd done so far.

Recalling something, the hedgehog pulled his hands from his head and looked down at them. Quickly, he slipped the glove from his right hand and looked down at it. Manual dexterity was supposedly important in the world of the past. The hedgehog had scarcely ever written, he'd not had the need to, and he certainly hadn't used his hands for anything so delicate as music. His psychic powers meant he'd rarely use his hands whenever anything remotely intense required grip.

And yet, his hand was callused and marked with cuts. It was symptomatic of his work in the future; even though his hands weren't often used for tough tasks, falls and struggles were an inevitability. There was a line that ran along the crease near the middle of his palm, from where a giant robot had once launched him through a window. Another, small and white, was halfway up his thumb; a result of catching a blade wielded by a mechanical tyrant much too late. His fingertips were callused too, the result of either his reactions being too slow in catching something with his psychokinesis or the struggle to push something with that power lead to him making contact and bolstering the effort with his own might.

His left glove came off, the hand beneath it was in a slightly better state but not by much; the cuts were different, but the calluses were the same. The psychic light shining at the centre of his palm itself offered a temptation, now more palpable as he could see it more clearly. Unpractised as he was with his fingers, his powers were another matter; intricate manoeuvres such as picking locks were child's play with his ability. Hammering a series of buttons in sequence would prove no problem at all, but that would defeat the point of this whole effort.

Blaze had learned an instrument without the backing of her powers, that magnificent skill had to be the result of endless effort to learn and yet it was a skill she still hid from the world. It was just like her power, something so core to the feline yet she plainly struggled to share. Years of practice had led to the former being more openly shown, years of his encouragement and, according to her, him using his power so casually had bolstered her confidence. For this though, he had to rise to meet her; that was how it'd worked last time, he'd had to show they were the same and it was all ok.

He'd recalled that Blaze hadn't worn her gloves when she played, though she had admittedly been in her evening garb rather than her usual attire. Perhaps some sort of difference lay there though, in her hands? Hers were so dainty, not without injury but very almost. Perhaps it was just the difference between their practice with their hands? The pyrokinetic's handwriting was so neat, the cursive connections between each letter had confused him at first but soon it had clicked. It looked so dainty and neat; he couldn't imagine ever reaching the point of matching it…

The sight of a bluebird in his peripheral vison, freshly landed in the canopy opposite him, served to remind the hedgehog of the time he was wasting. Blaze's meeting couldn't go on for too much longer and she had already caught him spending time out here once. If he was late, she'd know where to start looking. Rising to his feet, the hedgehog heaved another deep breath and puffed out his cheeks.

Removing his gloves hadn't fully alleviated the lagging of his fingertips, but the movement felt far more fluid and tactile. Maybe it was because he could feel the slightly rusted metal better, the pressure it took to push down each lever and the push back of their release. He wandered away from the tree and into the centre of the space, trying to use multiple parts of his brain and keep up momentum.

He'd never actually heard over the rainbow, but something about the way the notes were catching his ear felt so much clearer this time. Even after he snuck a breath between notes, it all still seemed to flow so naturally. He knew it was supposedly a simple song, labelled as being for beginners, but the success was exhilarating. So exhilarating in fact that he then proceeded to flub the next three notes and spin into a small panic before managing to briefly rekindle the magic.

Around halfway through the song his steam ran out, but a smile stuck to his lips… which was perhaps the cause of his failure, lip control was apparently important. He couldn't help but hover just a little, fist pumping. Sure, it was a small step, but it was a step in the right direction!

His success however was shortly celebrated, as a voice cut through the quiet in his playing's wake, "Silver?"

The hedgehog's heart skipped a beat, there was no mistaking that voice. She'd shouted to be heard, but did that mean she'd heard him? Her call had sounded far off, but not too far off; she was probably around the orchard's entrance. Either way, that meant he'd be in eyeshot any second now!

Panicking, the hedgehog went through the half dozen options. He could flee, he could fly off into the sky, but if he was seen that'd warrant a much greater explanation. Hiding was just asking for failure; he wasn't exactly inconspicuous against the lush summer greenery of the orchard. If it was winter and the snow was thick enough then he might have stood a chance, but reality was starkly opposed to that.

In his panic, he creeped three steps backward only to be spooked into as he collided with the tree he'd left mere moments ago. The surprise induced a juggle, he very almost dropped his flute. No matter what, hiding that instrument was his priority first and foremost! Silver pinned himself back against the tree, sandwiching the flute between his frame and the wood, holding it in place with his right hand.

His eyes darted franticly but he wasn't even in so much as a clearing, he'd just picked a spot on the path through the woods and decided the ambiance was right. Now the birds had left him behind, the trees were acting more as obstacles to his path than obscuring his form and the bluebells (despite how very pretty they were) offered no advice on how to evade his best friend. He couldn't let her know about this, not while he was still so inept! It wasn't like she'd insist on listening to his playing, but he wanted it to be a surp-

"There you are," His eyes were torn away from the patch of flowers he'd been mentally pleading for help and toward the entrance to the forest.

"Hey Blaze," He managed to grin, feeling the heavy sweat on his brow.

She walked over so very casually, not another word having slipped from her lips. The guardian was dressed in her usual gown and tights, her hair pulled up into its typical ponytail. Everything was so very typical, so regular for them, and that was exactly what was putting him on edge. There was just one abnormality, one tiny detail just out of place as she closed the distance; the borderline hypnotic way her tail was twisting behind her. Well, that and just how close she was getting before-
The sound of her hand striking the wood to his right drew their gazes to lock. All of a sudden, she'd stepped and leaned in so very close, putting herself almost chest to chest with him. Her eyes were alight, her piercing amber gaze was cutting through his shocked expression as if she could read his mind. The difference between their heights, despite her heels, was making this all the more surreal; he was almost a head taller than her, yet she had cornered him. He felt the flute press between his spines as he was made to lean back, the roughness of the bark was just enough to be uncomfortable but far from being painful.

"Silver," Her voice was low and husky, something about her tone was a degree more serious than even that she used in meetings, "That's twice you've made me come looking for you."

She wasn't fully pinning him in place, if he'd wanted to move then he could slide right, but the harshness of her gaze was making him sweat. If she was serious, actually fully serious, then Silver knew this wasn't the tone she'd use or how she'd act. This was her teasing, she was just having fun, but in both of those goals she was plainly succeeding!

"S-Sorry, I was just," His mouth dry, as lacking in moisture as it was words, "Um," A cough caught his throat, "Birdwatching mostly?"

"Mostly?" She repeated, arching a brow.

Though the feline wasn't smiling, the light in her eye proved she was enjoying this game. Just how much did she know?! Had she just overheard that last song? Or had she waited and heard his less successful renditions.

"There are some pretty flowers too," He managed to report.

"So it would seem," She glanced down, seeming to briefly clock the patch of bluebells to his right before returning to him, "So you've just been out here nature watching?"

"Yeah," He croaked, the feline still dominated the totality of his vision, but he couldn't bring himself to keeping locking eyes with her.

It was only then that he realised, in looking down at the flowers she'd undoubtedly noticed his right arm was pinned behind his back. Well, that was assuming she hadn't before… which, in hindsight, she almost certainly had. Then again, if she hadn't heard him playing, she wouldn't know what exactly he was hiding.

"Well, that sounds like you," She conceded, "It's not a bad spot, but haven't you been here a few dozen times?"

"W-Well, yeah," The hedgehog repeated, feeling the dryness of his mouth, "It's just a good spot. Even though the birds aren't nesting they're sort of," He scrambled for some sort of explanation, "Used to being around here? That's why it's one of my favourite spots."

"I see," Blaze hummed, so very casually, "Strange you haven't mentioned that before."

"H-Haven't I?" This interrogation was draining the life from him, he felt like he could faint any second.

The pyrokinetic shook her head, smugness still radiated despite her typical stern expression, "Not once."

"Maybe we should have a picnic here some time?" He practically wheezed.

"I'd like that," Finally, as if finally noticing his state, she stood up straight and freed him from the semi-pinned position, "Are you done out here?

"I think so, we can head back," He attempted to loosen his stance but was forced to keep his right hand pinned behind his back, "Most of the birds cleared out a few minutes ago, I just sort of lost track of time."

"Were any of them interesting?" She dusted off her gloves, casting little flakes of bark to the ground. Meanwhile he just stood there, his brain misfiring as he tried to fake normalcy, "The birds?"

"Oh, not really? Just the usual blue birds and crows," That was too little, he needed more of an explanation, "Most of the chicks have grown up I think, didn't see any active nests."

"I heard the prettiest call when I was looking for you, I wonder what could have made it…" With that, and not another word, the princess turned.

She'd started walking away, expecting him to follow her back to the palace, but he'd frozen in his tracks. Her last taunt was loaded with implication and had left him at a crossroads. Likely more than intentionally, she'd put him in the best position he could ask for; he could safely stash his instrument under a tree and pick it up tomorrow, play along with her strange bird claim and keep up the ruse, even if she maybe knew. Perhaps the surprise would be downgraded to when he chose to reveal his efforts and their nature, rather than the specifics, but there could still be a surprise.

He felt the metal in his bare hand as he bent down to reclaim his gloves. As long as she had the lead, as long as she had momentum, the teasing would continue. He was fine with that, embarrassing as it was, seeing her make strides she couldn't have years ago never failed to electrify him. But he could feel his heart beating in his throat, there was something buzzing in his head. Just as she'd given him a way out, she'd put the ball in his court and given him an opportunity to act. If she did know, was there really any reason to keep this up?

"I wasn't just out here watching birds," She stopped and turned, a half dozen steps away, as he held out the ancient instrument, "I was practicing with this."

Finally, her seriousness broke. A smirk grew on her muzzle, strong enough to stagger him, and her tail resumed its rapid waving. There was something even more cunning and smug about that look; it was somehow just as powerful as when she'd pinned him against the tree and twice as flustering.

"I know you were, Silver," She bluntly replied, striding back toward him, "I was just teasing to test if you'd tell me yourself. You were being so secretive about it, but I didn't want to burst your bubble."

Embarrassment flushed across his face, "D-Did you hear me yesterday?"

"I've known you were up to something the moment you arrived here, well before you set off to inform the other world," She informed him, gently taking the flute, "You weren't exactly subtle about hiding that you'd brought something back, though what that something was did elude me for a day or two."

"I-I wasn't?" He stammered, just letting her claim it.

"You wouldn't let anyone look through your bag, Usually, we sort through that mess together, but this time you made sure to do it alone," She talked him through her deductive process, "From there, it was just a matter of paying attention. Every so often I'd catch the sound of music on the wind or see a flash of metal."

His right hand found his quill, brushing through them didn't remove the heat from his cheeks but it served as a distraction, "It was that easy?"

Her expression softened, "It's not as though either of us are especially good at lying to the other," She took a pause, letting that sink in, before continuing, "I'm a little surprised that you picked the flute of all instruments, it's not an easy one to pick up. People typically start off playing the recorder and transition once they're more confident."

"It was the first instrument I found," He admitted, putting a wrinkle through her grin as she plainly tried to suppress her laugh, "I sort of took that as a sign that it's the right one to learn?"

"You didn't pick it based on wanting to play a particular song?" She seemed to have just noticed the scuffed nature of the instrument, brushing her fingers along its keys.

"I only picked up an instrument at all because of you," He truthfully answered, "I thought that if I got comfortable playing an instrument, then you would be more comfortable too. That way I'd get to watch you play more."

"Your so naïve," She tutted, looking up from the flute, "Just because I only play in private doesn't mean it's some sort of secret," That truth surprised Silver almost as much as the next, her head turned away, "The only person I'm actually shy about playing around is you."

"What, wh-why?" He stepped in closer out of panic, leaning down to her, "Did I do something wrong?"

"No, you've not…" Blaze seemed to immediately question her word choice, "Remember that night you arrived at my window? How you sat on my bed, watching and listening as I played?"

"That was the inspiration for me picking up the instrument," Silver recalled aloud, "I'd heard you play before but watching you then, hearing and seeing it, made me want others to experience it," His fingers hitched on her shoulders, "You were incredible Blaze."

"You don't need to say that for me to know you felt it," Even before she said that, he'd felt heat prickle across her shoulders, "Just like I knew how it'd be when you finally watched me play. You stared up at me so wide eyed, so excited and enthralled. It was impossible to keep my eyes on you even though I wanted to," When a beat of silence filled the air, just for a moment while he processed, she spoke up again, "It was the worst I'd played in years."

"R-Really? But you sounded great!" He insisted, "I loved listening to you Bl-

Her finger was suddenly upon his lips, now Blaze was the one avoiding his gaze, "I know you did, and I probably didn't sound as bad as I think I did, but that's besides the point. There's a difference between me playing and you maybe hearing three doors down, or on the other side of a curtained window, and me actually playing for you."

He paused for half a second as her finger left his lips, waiting until their eyes locked again, "What's the difference? Just that you know I'm there?"

"That's exactly the difference. It's foolish, but seeing you look up at me like that is just so…" Their gaze broke again, "It's a unique experience certainly. I'm used to attention but feeling it then and from you is just so distracting."

"It's not a bad feeling, right?" He asked, already knowing the answer was likely no.

"No, not bad just…" Again, she seemed to search for the right words, "We've danced around these feelings before, I'm sure you've felt the sort. Like when I pinned you a few moments ago."

That made her status more than clear and remounted the sweat on his forehead just as it sent a fresh wave of heat from her shoulders. The dance around their feelings was a shuffle they'd been performing for years now to varying degrees of success. They'd kissed before yes, but no hard confirmation or serious conversation had ever followed. Blaze's royal status had seen to it that they always returned to an awkward mid-ground, the sort they were presently in.

He would have asked if he could listen to her play if he simply didn't look, but he knew the truth was that he wouldn't be able to stop himself. The idea of sitting there with his eyes locked to the carpet, her desk or her bookshelf while she was there, unleashing her skill so bluntly, was a fool's dream. He was a fool yes, but it was a fantasy just too far.

An alternative option did however float into his mind, "Well, I can't really play very well yet but," He dropped his right hand to the flue, keeping his left on her shoulder, "If we played something together, then maybe I wouldn't be so distracting," A more selfish thought sparked in his mind, "That and, maybe if we play together, you'll get more used to it?"

She didn't look convinced, not initially at least, but as their eyes came to lock again, she released his instrument, "Well, I suppose we'll only know if we try," As Blaze conceded, that cunning light having re-entered her eyes, "And I suppose that means you'll have to practice some more yourself before you'll get to see me play again. After all, you'll need to keep pace with me."

He felt his quills fan in surprise at her final taunt, "W-Well, maybe I could listen just one more time for insper-

"Come on, I've got some music theory books in my room and, I'm sure there'll be some old book specifically for flutes in the library," She had already turned again, leading for him to follow, "Speaking of old things, perhaps I'll source a less broken flute before the week's end. Two centuries without maintenance is perhaps a little too long."

Stumbling over himself, the psychic chased after the pyrokinetic. While he'd set out with one goal in mind, to inspire her, another had been pushed to the forefront. It was the same as things always went; no matter what, they worked together when it came to their goals. How hard could learning the flute when contrasted against saving the future? Well, neither were harder than tearing his attention away from her.