Hazel '07: Cure

Ezra curled into a ball, huddling under a warm quilt that had grown incredibly soft with repeated washings. The heavy shades were drawn, blocking out the painfully bright light and sounds of the day, bathing the room in serene darkness. His stomach no longer threatened to disgorge what little he'd eaten and he breathed easier, grateful for that small measure of relief.

His migraines were a mystery. Ezra never knew for certain when one would happen or what would trigger it. Every physician he'd seen gave him a potential cause, each one as different as the doctor handing out the diagnosis.

Dr. Sanders, a petite blonde woman with black frame glasses blamed his diet and advised him to avoid refined sugar, to eat more fruit and vegetables. Ezra had adjusted his diet accordingly. But the debilitating headaches continued without rhyme or reason.

Dr. Singh, who spoke with the accent of his Indian home land, suggested dehydration as the cause. He'd recommended avoiding caffeine and drinking lots of water. So in addition to watching what he ate, Ezra reduced his coffee intake to one cup in the morning and drank at least eight glasses of water a day. The headaches came with less frequency but didn't go away.

Dr. Markum, fresh out of medical school didn't even bother trying to pinpoint a cause before he wrote a prescription for a potent painkiller. The pills made Ezra nauseous and didn't seem to be any more effective than the over the counter medicine despite costing ten times as much. Ezra threw them away.

Dr. Kilmer, an overweight balding man, said it was stress and suggested he look into finding another occupation. Before joining Team Seven, Ezra might have considered that as a viable alternative. But a few headaches, no matter how painful, weren't enough for him to consider abandoning the men he now thought of as friends and family. He could not, would not desert them.

He might not know the exact cause but he knew a cure that was more effective than any other. His lover's touch, the warmth of his body lying next to Ezra, never failed to ease band of the excruciating pain and pressure that encircled his skull. Ezra sighed softly when Vin's cool fingers brushed delicately across his forehead, rubbing lightly at his temples.

"Bad one?" Vin whispered, his voice as soft to Ezra's ears as Vin's touch was to his skin.

Ezra considered the question. On a scale of one to ten, one could be dealt with by taking a few aspirin; a ten required a trip to the hospital.

"Seven." An eight or nine he would have already vomited.

Vin curled around him, his body heat taking the chill from Ezra's. "I gotcha, Ez. Jus' relax."

Ezra nodded carefully. Sleeping for hours was really the only cure, and sleep always came easier with Vin nearby.