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The Ice Path is just as Lance remembers from his last visit. Daunting, unnerving, and a place that he’d do anything to avoid entering. Snow covers the mountain, coating everything in pure white aside from the bottom, where the snow is light enough to allow the few jagged paths that run towards the top to be visible. At first glance, the mountain doesn’t appear intimidating, potentially even a fun climb for those willing to put up with the sub-zero temperatures, but anyone who steps a foot onto, or into, the mountain knows otherwise.
And for Lance, as a self-proclaimed ‘Dragon Master’, a cave filled floor to ceiling with ice, where ice type pokemon roam around each corner, is his worst nightmare. Over half of the pokemon he readily carries have a quadruple weakness to ice type attacks, and those that don’t still can’t hold their own against the deadly dragon slayers. It puts him at a distinct disadvantage in any kind of pokemon battle, especially when the trainers that tend to travel into the cave are often ice type specialists themselves. No matter whether he runs into wild pokemon or trainer, any battle that happens inside or on the mountain isn’t a fun one for him.
During the few times he’s had to venture any further into the cave than a few steps past the entrance, he’s had to choose fights carefully. Each time he enters the Ice Path, he tells himself that it’ll be the last, yet he somehow always ends up standing back outside the freezing mountain, physically and mentally preparing himself to enter once again. He may be one of the most powerful trainers in the region, second only to the pokedex holders, but any ice type pokemon with a vengeance against dragons can send his team running for the center.
Which means it’s Pryce’s preferred location to choose during their weekly training sessions with Silver. He only gets to choose the location once a month, but every time, he picks the freezing ice cave of Lance’s demise. Neither him nor Silver prefer training in the cave, but it does allow Pryce to give in depth training tips with Silver’s weavile, the cold environment being the perfect conditions for the feline pokemon to thrive, so they put up with it. Though Lance could do without the freezing temperatures that leave him shivering only minutes into their sessions, ruthless pokemon that have a tendency to attack on sight, and confusing tunnels that are easy to get lost in.
On multiple occasions, he’s thought about tearing the entire mountain down. A hyper beam from one of his dragonite would be enough to destroy a large portion of the cavern system, and loosen the foundation of the rest. He’s sure that most trainers would appreciate the change too, not having to travel through the freezing climates to get from Mahogany to Blackthorn, since the only other way to get to the secluded city is through a treacherous hike up the narrow mountain side of route 45. The only thing stopping him from giving the command is the knowledge that he’d cause irreparable damage to the local pokemon and their ecosystem.
He glares at the mountain, pacing in front of the entrance to the Ice Path as he waits for Pryce to show. The old man can’t even be bothered to show up on time when he picked the time and place for their training session. Ice creeps from the entrance of the cave, battling the summer heat to escape the walls of the mountain it’s been confined to. Wave after wave of chill blows across him each time he steps in front of the opening, biting straight into his skin through the two layers of clothes he wore to combat the cold. Frost coats the ground, giving the grass blades white tips, and almost causing Lance to slip when he steps on a patch of pure ice that’s invisible on the dirt.
When he curses, his foot almost sliding out from beneath him before barely managing to catch himself on the wall, Silver glances up, watching with a rather disinterested stare. Sitting as far away from the entrance as possible, he lays on the ground, plucking blades of grass as Weavile runs circles around him. Even without standing next to her, Lance can sense her excitement, watching her tumble around the grass and sniff at the air as she inches closer to the mountain.
Their gazes lock, and Lance rolls his eyes, earning a small smile from Silver. He’s quiet today, not even saying hello when they met up, opting for a silent wave instead. That’s not unusual for Silver, he’s always preferred actions over words, but on days when they train in the Ice Path, he doesn’t tend to talk much at all. It could be the cold, Lance having noticed over the years that Silver dislikes the cold almost more than he does, or it could be something unrelated, something personal going on with his friends. Either way, Lance doesn’t care too much as long as Silver actively participates in the training; he’s taking the time out of his already busy day to train him, Silver can at least pay attention.
It takes another half hour for Pryce to show, slowly making his way towards them as if he’s not almost an hour late. Lance barely manages to suppress the scoff that builds in his throat at the leisurely pace Pryce has set. With the sun nearing its peak, they’ve already lost the morning. By the time they make it into the depths of the cave, where Pryce will no doubt be leading them, it’ll be past noon. Not the worst thing, considering that means they’ll spend less time in freezing temperatures, but still irritating.
Pryce doesn’t greet either of them before going straight past Lance, the ice crunching and breaking beneath his wheelchair as he enters the Ice Path, seeming to not care if either of them follow him. Silver’s quick to push to his feet, calling Weavile over with a quiet click of his fingers, where she settles on her typical spot on his shoulder, as he jogs to catch up with Pryce. With a sigh, and the last look at the warm, summer sun that Lance will get for the next several hours, he follows the pair into the cave, immediately pulling his cape tighter around himself to try and stave off the chill that blasts into his face.
The ice that covers the walls, floor, and ceiling tints the cavern in blue. Each step is treacherous, the difference between thin and thick ice being almost unnoticeable on the stone floor. Before they’ve even left the entrance area, daylight still visible behind them, Lance slips twice, only managing to stay on his feet by catching himself on the walls, which quickly freezes his hands as he trails his fingers along the wall with each slow, shaky step.
Neither Pryce nor Silver slow down for him, forcing him to speed up and slip more. Pryce has no difficulty traversing the landscape, and Silver keeps a pace that would make one think he’s walking on a regular stone path. Lance definitely sees him step on a few spots that almost make his feet slide out from beneath him, but Silver doesn’t have any trouble walking over them; as if the patches of ice that threaten to have him fall on his behind only exist for him.
Unlike past times, surprisingly, Pryce doesn’t lead them to the lowest floors. Halfway through the base level, they stop, in the middle of a space large enough for them to have practice battles without disturbing any of the local wildlife or running into walls. The only nearby obstacle is a frozen lake that lies to their left, one of the major lakes that runs through the entirety of the cave. Once the battles start, they'll have to be careful to avoid it, a single step on the lake being enough to make anyone slip.
Him and Pryce take their places on opposite sides of the cavern, starting their typical routine of fighting a mock battle to demonstrate the main tactics they’ll be focusing on that day for Silver. The battle doesn’t last five minutes before his dragonite goes down, labeling Pryce the victor of the quick match. They have to start a second match since the first didn’t last long enough to show Silver anything.
From the start, Lance can tell that Pryce’s attention is more on Silver than their battle, gaze continuously coming to rest on where Silver sits off to the side, on a jagged edge that’s just large enough to act as a seat. Each time he notices, he swears that Pryce is glaring at Silver, who is simply watching the battle with a determined spark in his eyes. The look in Pryce’s eyes is always gone before Lance can attempt to comment on it, so he brushes it off.
Although the second battle lasts longer, long enough for them to properly demonstrate the tactics they’ll be practicing for the day, Lance still loses miserably. The permanent chill in the air makes his pokemon sluggish, unable to dodge attacks that he knows they typically have no trouble avoiding. Dragonite goes down again, and after healing him, Lance returns him to his pokeball, not wanting to subject the dragon to the cold temperatures for any longer than necessary.
Silver swaps places with him on the left side of the field as Weavile launches herself into position, claws gleaming in the dim lights installed in the cave to help trainers navigate. The determination in Silver’s eyes shines brighter as he takes his position, in the same way it always does when he's heading into battle. Even with only watching their demonstration once, he’s determined to recreate it on the first attempt. The deep breath Silver takes to prepare himself is visible in the cold air, quickly dissipating as their battle starts.
Weavile and Delibird circle each other on the battlefield, dancing around the space as neither of them make the first major move. Delibird shoots long range attacks at Weavile to keep her away as she tries to get close enough to strike, though the shots are obviously ones of warning, not aimed to actually hit her. They're slow, only picking up speed when Weavile gets close before slowing down when she’s at a safe distance once more.
But with each attack, each ice shard that launches into the stone wall only to shatter and leave small crystals littering the floor, Delibird seems to aim less at Weavile, and more at Silver. A few shards blatantly miss Weavile and launch straight at Silver, forcing him to scurry out of the way or risk getting hit. One ice shard flies at him faster than he can dodge, grazing his cheek as he barely manages to dodge enough to keep it from hitting him dead on.
Blood seeps from the cut, dripping down Silver’s cheek in large, slow drops. Silver stumbles from the impact, something that neither him or Pryce miss, if the way Pryce’s eyes narrow in clear annoyance is anything to go off. Another attack is launched before Silver has regained his footing, forcing him to drop to the floor to avoid it.
For being a low stakes, friendly training battle, it doesn’t appear that way for either side. Pryce seems to be trying his hardest to injure Silver, sending wave after wave of attacks at him that quickly increase in frequency, not giving him a second to relax or catch his breath. He completely disregards Weavile, sending a stray attack at her every minute or so when she tries to attack Delibird on her own accord.
All Silver can do is dart around the limited space he has to dodge, barely landing on his feet before having to jump away from another attack. He’s not trying to counterattack, having given up on commanding Weavile minutes prior, like his only goal is just to survive. His breathing is shallow and fast, the bursts of condensation visible in the cold air, and his eyes are wide, the determination from earlier fading into something that Lance wants to classify as fear.
Lance is about to step onto the field, calling off the battle before Silver gets injured anymore—not that Pryce should have hurt him at all—when another ice shard gets launched at Silver. It’s too close, too fast, for him to dodge, aiming straight for his chest.
He acts without thinking, sending Dragonite out to stand in front of Silver, blocking the ice shard. While the pokemon won’t be happy about taking an ice shard directly to the chest, he’ll survive the attack. Silver might not.
“Recall your dragon,” Pryce says calmly and without hesitation, as if the only thing keeping him from attacking his pupil isn’t the dragon he’s telling Lance to recall.
“Are you crazy? That was going to hit him.” He turns to glare at Pryce as soon as he ensures that Silver isn’t in danger of being hit by any other attacks, watching as Delibird slowly stalks away. The blank expression on Pryce’s face doesn’t quite mask the fury in his eyes. Whether that anger is aimed at him, for interrupting, or Silver, for defying one of the many invisible rules he seems to have for him, Lance doesn’t know. Nor does he care. There’s nothing for him to be angry over when he’s the one attacking their student.
“If he didn’t want to get hit, he would have dodged. Next time, he’ll react faster.”
“Next time?” he hisses, stepping onto the field to put himself between the two with his back towards Silver so he can watch Pryce; in case he tries anything more. “There’s not going to be a next time.”
“He’s my disciple,” Pryce says, his cold, harsh gaze finally coming to meet Lance. “Are you trying to tell me how to train my student?”
“When your training methods could end with him dead, yes, I am.” A low grumble from Dragonite reaches his ears, but he ignores it, figuring that it’s a warning growl at Delibird or one of Pryce’s other pokemon.
“He’s never going to get stronger if we don’t push him.” Pryce waves his hand at Lance, as if to dismiss his concern. “He hasn’t made any meaningful progress. A push is necessary.”
“That is pushing him too hard. He’s making progress, that’s enough.” Just because Pryce refuses to see the progress Silver has made over the past year as meaningful, doesn’t mean that no progress is being made.
“The boy has potential. If he isn’t pushed, he’ll never manage to achieve what I know he is capable of.”
His attempt to respond gets cut off when Dragonite growls again, the sound more for attention than a warning. The following concerned chirp Weavile gives is what gets him to forget the argument with Pryce, spinning on his heels to find what has them worried.
It’s not one of Pryce’s pokemon, or even a wild one that catches his attention. It’s Silver. In the time they’ve been arguing, Silver has stepped away from them, standing several feet away from where Lance had left him in Dragonite’s protection. He’s one step onto the frozen lake, leaning on his back leg in a way that tells Lance the step won’t be the only one he takes. As Silver takes a second step, putting him completely on the ice, it cracks loud enough for Lance to hear, wincing at the dangerous sound.
Typically, the lakes in the Ice Path are safe to walk on, even being part of common paths taken to easily traverse the cave and cut down on the time it takes to reach Blackthorn. In the height of winter, when the temperatures drop so low that full winter clothing is a requirement to step foot into the cave without freezing, the ice is thick enough to hold a fully grown dragonite. During spring and fall, the internal temperatures circulating through the various caverns are enough to keep everything thoroughly frozen, even on the rare warm day.
But in the summer, when the temperatures become sweltering, the heat can seep into the cave. Only the first couple floors, and never enough to fully melt anything before the seasons change, refreezing everything in the permanent icy cave, but just enough to make the frozen lakes a danger to walk on.
“Silver! Stop!” he calls out, ignoring whatever Pryce says next as he rushes towards Silver.
Silver’s gaze snaps to him, eyes still wide and full of fear. His pace picks up, moving backwards until he’s fully on the ice. Before Lance has taken a single step onto the lake, Silver is standing in the middle of it. The moment his shoe hits the ice, his feet almost slide out from beneath him. How Silver is managing to walk steadily, he doesn’t know.
Pryce scoffs from behind him, but Lance doesn’t pay him any mind. He’s too focused on Silver, watching as his next step puts him in the dead center of the lake. The ice cracks again from the pressure of his weight, the harsh sound echoing through the cavern as a visible fracture appears underneath Silver’s boot.
His next attempt to call out to Silver, try to persuade him to come back onto more stable ground, is cut short when the ice breaks. Silver disappears with a gasp that’s barely audible over the loud splashing of the water. Freezing water spills from the gaping hole that now sits in the lake, soaking through Lance’s shoes, and increasing the difficulty of walking on the already slippery surface.
With a silent curse, Lance speeds up as much as he can without falling. Silver’s a strong swimmer, he knows that, having seen him in the water alongside his pokemon; he keeps up with the water types on his team well. But the below freezing temperatures of the water, combined with Silver falling in fully clothed, would prove difficult for anyone to swim in, even the strongest swimmers.
By the time he reaches the hole, barely managing to stay upright with each step, Silver’s still underwater. The water’s surface is still, showing no sign that someone had just fallen under. Seconds pass, and Silver still doesn’t surface, making Lance’s already pounding heart beat faster. It’s been at least a minute or two, Lance doesn’t fully know since he doesn’t have an easy way to tell time, but it’s been long enough that Silver shouldn’t still be under.
He frantically tugs Gyrados’ pokeball from his pocket, releasing him into the icy water. Gyarados will complain about the temperature later, once they’re back in the safety of Lance’s home, but he would rather deal with a grumpy pokemon than a dead child.
The sigh of relief he breathes when Gyarados surfaces with Silver on his back is unlike one he’s ever released before. He wastes no time in sinking to his knees to hoist Silver from the water, not caring for how soaked his clothes get in the process. Even with the water drenching Silver’s clothes and hair, he’s light, not requiring much effort to lift, and allowing Lance to get him out of the lake.
As soon as Silver’s on the ice, he’s gasping for breath, followed immediately by a coughing fit that has him spitting water onto the floor. Each breath he takes shudders, as if he can’t get enough air into his lungs. Lance sets his hand on Silver’s back, rubbing circles until Silver stops coughing.
Wide gray eyes dart around the cavern as Silver looks up, his gaze not resting on anything for more than a second before moving to the next spot. Following his gaze, Lance notes that Pryce is gone. He must have left while he was busy ensuring Silver didn’t drown. It leaves the cavern empty aside from their pokemon, who teeter on the edge of the lake like they want to join them, but don’t want to add to the weight already on the thin ice.
Eventually, Silver’s eyes land on him. They’re wet, though that’s probably due to the water that sticks to his lashes, dripping down his cheeks until it combines with the drops running down his face from his water soaked hair. He shivers violently, almost falling backwards from the force as he sniffles with a hiccupping breath.
With Silver completely soaked, hair and clothes drenched, he could easily catch hypothermia. They should get out of the cave and into a warm building as soon as possible. And they’re still in the center of the lake, where the ice has a high chance of breaking under their weight. Getting off of the ice should be their first priority, before it breaks again.
He doesn’t get one foot beneath him before a piercing wail echoes through the cavern. The volume makes him wince as the wail turns to sobs. A glance back at Silver confirms him to be the source of the crying, and Lance quickly decides to forgo his plan to get them off the ice. The bottom of his legs have already gone numb from how long they’ve been sitting there, but that doesn’t seem important when Silver’s having a breakdown in front of him.
“Oh shit. Okay. It’s okay, just breathe.” Lance is probably the worst person to turn to when it comes to calming someone down; his expertise has always been with pokemon, not humans. But since he’s the only one here, there’s no one around that he could ask for help with calming the teen that’s now sobbing in front of him.
If he had to guess, the fall, combined with the blatant attempt on his life that Pryce made earlier, scared him, resulting in the tears that flow freely from his eyes. Aside from the cut on his cheek, which has begun to leak blood again, he appears unharmed. Soaked, and no doubt freezing cold, but unharmed.
But Silver doesn’t get scared easily. Lance has seen him fight through things that would send most adults running, facing anything that’s thrown at him without flinching. Scared is a word he would never use for Silver. Yet, it’s the only way to describe how he’s been acting since Pryce started attacking him.
As another hiccupped sob echoes through the cave, Silver’s hands fly to cover his mouth. He shrinks in on himself, curling up so tightly that his forehead almost touches the ice as his hair falls to cover his face. The hand Lance brushes against Silver’s shoulder in an attempt to comfort him is quickly retracted when Silver violently flinches from the contact.
“Bad bad bad bad,” Silver repeatedly whispers between sobs, the words seemingly aimed at himself more than anything.
Lance freezes, both metaphorically and literally, as the chill from the ice below them travels from his legs up to his chest. If he said that he knew what to do in this situation, he’d be lying. The behavior Silver’s exhibiting isn’t something he’s ever seen from him before, leading to a total loss on Lance’s end.
“What’s bad?” He barely manages to keep the concern from his voice, not wanting to upset Silver anymore than he already is. His gaze shoots back to where Dragonite and Weavile stand at the edge of the lake. When he raises a brow at Weavile, hoping that she knows how to calm Silver, she chirps at him in response, rubbing her paw along the top of her head. He doesn’t need the use of his powers to know what she’s suggesting, and he places his hand on Silver’s hair, running his fingers through the cold, wet, tangled strands while trying to avoid pulling at any of the knots.
The action appears to soothe him, at least enough to calm his crying. Sobs turn to quiet sniffles and hiccups as Silver leans into him, soaking the few patches of his clothes that hadn’t gotten wet when he pulled him from the lake. “Not suppose to cry. It’s bad. Don’t wanna get punished.”
“You won’t be punished for crying.” In theory, this should be just like calming a baby pokemon, just with less deadly attacks that he could get hit with, which makes this easier. Even that advice to himself doesn't calm the worry running rampant through his head, still completely unsure whether he's doing the right thing to comfort Silver.
Silver sniffles, pulling back to look up at him, eyes still wide and full of tears. “Promise?” The tone of his voice reminds Lance of one a child would use, but he doesn’t comment on it.
“Promise,” he agrees, though not sure why the matter is important to Silver. It gets him to calm down though, so Lance isn’t going to question anything. “Now, let’s get off the ice before it breaks again. And get out of our wet clothes before either of us catches a cold.”
Extending a hand to Silver once he’s as steady as he’s going to get, he pulls him to his feet. Whatever power Silver was using to walk steadily on the ice has seemingly disappeared, as he slips almost immediately upon getting both feet under him, requiring Lance to hold him up, and making it take several minutes to get off the lake. As soon as their feet touch the solid ground of the stone floor, Weavile launches herself onto Silver’s shoulder, nuzzling against his cheek and wetting her fur in the process. She doesn’t appear to care about the water, the worry that had been radiating from her since Silver stepped onto the lake finally calming.
Another shiver runs through Silver, sending small water droplets flying around him as he shakes. Being in the middle of the cave, and unprepared for a situation like this, neither of them have any spare clothes, and no way to easily get dry clothing. It might be better for Silver to take off his jacket, but Lance isn’t sure, and doesn’t want him to be exposed to the natural elements of the cave. Unclasping his cape, he drapes the fabric around Silver’s shoulder’s, retying it around him as tightly as possible. It won’t do much to help, especially with it being slightly wet and only growing wetter as it absorbs the water from Silver’s clothes, but it’s better than having Silver walk through the cave in nothing but his soaked clothes.
After he recalls Dragonite to his ball, they start the trek back through the cave. Their footprints from when they arrived are still visible on the ground, disrupting the light layer of frost that coats the stone and giving them an easy path to follow to the entrance.
With them heading to Blackthorn, going the other way, towards the exit into the city, would be the fastest way for them to get to Lance’s home. If Lance knew the way through the cave. Traversing through the Ice Path on a good day is already difficult, if he tries doing it when both Silver and him are soaked, and neither of them are prepared for the walk through the confusing pathways, they’d get lost easily; the last thing they need at the moment. They’ll leave through the way they came in, then take the short flight over the mountain to Blackthorn.
As they walk, he keeps his arm wrapped around Silver. With each step, Silver seems to lean further and further into him, clutching onto his arm with a death grip. He stumbles a few times, his fingers digging into Lance’s arm to keep his balance when he does. The hand he slips into Lance’s after one stumble is ice cold, almost making him recoil before coming to tightly hold Silver’s hand despite the water that seeps out of his gloves, not wanting to scare him off.
The sun does little to warm Lance as they exit, and he’s sure it does nothing for Silver with how soaked he is, but it’s leagues better than the icy atmosphere of the cave. He turns towards Silver as he pulls Dragonite’s pokeball from his pocket once more, expecting Silver to be shedding some of his layers. Now that they were out of the cave, there was no reason for him to keep his jacket and gloves on.
Silver stands almost motionless just outside the cave entrance, in the exact spot that Lance had dropped his hand, thinking that Silver would continue to follow him. He stares up at Lance with a confused, childish-looking expression; softer and more innocent than Lance has ever seen Silver look. When he takes a step towards him, hands outstretched to help him take his jacket off, figuring that Silver’s still dazed from the shock of falling in the lake, Silver takes a step back, the confusion in his eyes turning to fear.
He withdraws as soon as he recognizes Silver’s change in expression. Lowering his hands, he takes a small step forward. “I’m not going to hurt you,” he reassures. Those are words he never thought he’d be saying to Silver. Their first meeting consisted of Silver attacking him, and he seemed less scared then than he does now, when he’s vastly more capable—and deadly—than he was at eleven. But the words tumbled from his mouth before he could think over them, and Silver does appear to relax as Lance’s words register, even if only slightly. “I was just going to help you take your jacket off. And you’ll probably feel warmer once it’s off.”
A nod is the only response Silver gives. He makes no move to remove his jacket or step away from the cave entrance, where he’s standing close enough that Lance is sure that the cold air inside still blows against his back. It takes Lance stepping forward again before Silver moves, taking a hesitant, shaky step towards him, where he lets Lance unzip and peel off his jacket, quickly replacing it with the cape still tucked around Silver’s shoulders. With it off, and the sun hitting at least a portion of Silver’s bare skin, it should help him warm up, especially with the high temperatures from the summer heat.
Once that matter has been taken care of, Lance calls out Dragonite, helping Silver onto the back of the dragon when he once again makes no move to climb on himself. Typically he wouldn’t have Silver fly with him, but his only flying-type is Honchkrow, and he doesn’t trust Silver to hold onto him for the entirety of the flight with the downright dangerous way he flies. The lack of protest from Silver as he settles down on Dragonite’s back is surprising, Lance knowing that he doesn’t like flying with others, but he doesn’t comment on it, once again figuring that he’s still dazed from the events of the day.
The short flight still feels too long, with the winds whipping around them and nullifying the warm summer temperatures that he had hoped would help warm them up. Landing in front of his house, he wastes no time in hopping off Dragonite’s back, lifting Silver off the second his feet hit the ground to pull him into the warmth of the house. Silver stumbles into him again once on the ground, heavily leaning against him for support. He feels even colder than when they were in the Ice Path, and Lance hopes the change is simply due to the wind. Either way, it’s not good.
This isn’t the first time Silver’s been inside his house. There have been several times after training sessions that they’ve ordered takeout and discussed more in-depth strategies inside. And of course, there are the occasional times when Silver shows up in the middle of the night, looking for somewhere to stay. But when Lance tells him to head to the guest room while he grabs some towels, he doesn’t move from the entryway. A soft whine reaches his ears as he turns to leave, and he spins back around to see Silver reaching out towards him, fingers twitching as they brush against his arm.
His eyes are wide, and once again wet, though it’s unlikely to be due to the water this time. Not wanting Silver to start crying again, now that he’s calm, Lance slips his hand back into Silver’s grasp, tugging him towards the hallway. After securely wrapping a towel around Silver’s shoulders, and tucking a few dry ones under his arm for once Silver removes his wet clothing, he leads him towards the guest bedroom when Silver doesn’t move himself. Silver continues to follow without a word, allowing Lance to lead him to sit on the bed. It creaks as he perches on the edge, instantly creating a wet patch on the sheet.
There aren’t any clothes in the house that will be a perfect fit on Silver, but a spare set of Lance’s clothes will work until he can get Silver’s clothes into the dryer. Leaving Silver with the towels in the room, Lance hurries to his own room, grabbing a set of pajamas, the smallest ones he can find, for Silver.
“These will likely be too big, but it’ll work just to get you out of those wet clothes. And you know where the bathroom is if you want to take a shower. Just don’t make the water too hot.” Depositing the clothes on the bed next to Silver, he takes a step back, preparing to leave the room so he can change in private.
Silver makes no move to grab the clothes, hands remaining curled in the towel that bunches in his lap. The only sign that he registers that Lance is talking is a slight cock of his head, though his hair obscures too much of his face for Lance to see anything.
“Is something wrong?” He pauses in the doorway, waiting for Silver to start changing, or do anything besides sit there.
A further tilt of Silver’s head, turning to look at the clothes, allows Lance to get a look at his face. Aside from the water still dripping from his hair, running down his face in small, almost transparent drops, his face is dry. The cut along his cheek has stopped bleeding, scabbing over to leave only a couple faint trails of red running down towards his neck. Red patches coat his cheeks, whether due to the crying, or the temperature switch from the freezing cavern to inside the house, Lance isn’t sure. Either way, he’s stopped crying, which is a good sign.
It takes a moment for Silver to respond, and when he does, it’s a small nod. His fingers dig into the towel, pulling it tighter around himself. He doesn’t say anything, even as Lance stays quiet, waiting for him to elaborate. A hiccupped breath has Lance tensing, preparing for another wave of tears, but Silver says nothing. No tears, no words, nothing that could give Lance so much as a hint to Silver’s distress.
“Okay,” he says, sitting down next to Silver. “What’s wrong?”
The only response he gets is a quiet whimper. Silver leans into him, burying his face into his arm as his grip switches from the towel to the sleeve of Lance’s jacket. Another shiver runs through Silver, followed by a choked cry that has Lance raising his hand to set on Silver’s head, running his fingers through his hair.
“Cold? It’ll be better once you change.” Without anything to go off, he’s forced to guess.
Silver shakes his head. After a quiet moment, where Lance goes through a list in his head of what could be bothering Silver, he mumbles something that’s too quiet and muffled for Lance to make out.
“What was that?” He rubs his hand over Silver’s arm, pulling back just enough to see his face, hopefully allowing him to hear what he’s saying better.
His gaze darts to the ground, resting there for a moment as conflict swirls in his eyes, like he wants to say something that he thinks he shouldn’t. “Gone?” He’s still quiet enough that Lance almost misses him speaking. “Is… he gone?” Before Lance can ask him to clarify, he speaks again, giving slightly more context.
Hearing the answer doesn’t make any more sense than not knowing it, and Lance stares at him in confusion, trying to figure out what exactly he means by that. “Oh.” It clicks a moment later, and his gaze softens, hand gently tightening in Silver’s hair. “Pryce? Yes, he’s gone. And, I don’t think he’ll be coming back.”
The name makes Silver flinch, though he quickly relaxes when Lance assures him that he’s gone. With a nod, Silver pulls away from him, reaching towards the pile of clothes that still sit on top of the dry towels. The current towel around his shoulders is soaked, no longer doing anything to absorb the water dripping from him, he should change it out for a dry one. Though really, he should change out of his clothes and into the pajamas Lance brought.
He stands, taking it as a good sign when Silver doesn’t cling to him. “Are you okay to get changed by yourself?” If Silver says no, he doesn’t know what he’ll do, but he has to at least ask, since Silver hasn’t made any moves to change himself.
To his relief, Silver nods, hand falling from Lance’s jacket to fidget with the hem of his shirt. Stepping out of the room, he shuts the door behind him. He takes a few steps away from the door, but doesn’t stray far. There’s obviously something going on with Silver, though he doesn’t know what. It’s probably a minor cold, mixed with the beginnings of hypothermia. But whatever it is has made Silver clingy, and that has Lance concerned considering how touch-averse he is normally.
It doesn’t take long for the door handle to rattle after a few minutes of quiet shuffling. The door opens a crack, and Silver slips out of the room, dressed in the warm, dry, pajamas. As predicted, the clothes are big on him; the sleeves fall to cover his hands, and the collar only covers one shoulder, while the pant legs cover his feet, dragging on the floor as he walks. His wet clothes have been tossed on the floor by the bed with the soaked towel that had been wrapped around him. The other, dry, towels still sit on the bed, obviously unused with how soaked Silver’s hair still is, sticking to his face and dripping water onto his shoulders and back.
Ice envelops his fingers as Silver latches onto him again, leaning against him with a yawn as soon as he’s stepped out of the room. “Okay, hold on,” he says, removing his arm from Silver’s grasp. “Your hair is still wet, and I need to get your clothes into the dryer.”
Taking one of towels from the bed, he drapes it over Silver’s head, gently ruffling his hair to dry it as much as possible. Water still drips from the tips when he’s done, Silver stepping away from him with an annoyed whine when he’s apparently determined that his hair is dry enough.
What he said about getting Silver’s clothes into the dryer must have already been forgotten, as Silver doesn’t bother grabbing the clothes off the floor. His steps are shaky, slightly wobbly as he leaves the room, bumping into the door frame on his way out. Picking up the pile of clothes, he follows Silver out, making a quick stop into the laundry room to deposit both Silver’s and his clothes into the dryer—once he’s changed into a spare set of clothes that he had left on the floor the last time he did laundry. It’s an old set that needs to be thrown out, but it works for the moment, allowing him to put on something that’s not cold and wet so he can get both sets of clothes into the dryer to be dry by the end of the night, in case Silver’s not planning on staying.
By the time he steps into the living room, following the noise of Silver having what sounds like a fierce conversation with Weavile, chirping back to her in a pitch and tone similar to her own cries, Silver has settled down in front of the fireplace. The newly lit fire burns brightly inside the hearth, warming up the room. All of the blankets that Lance keeps on the back of the couch have been pulled to the floor, shoved into a pile that’s distinctly Silver-sized.
Silver hums as Lance sits down next to him. The heap of blankets partially falls onto his lap as Silver rests against him, and he pulls some of them onto himself, feeling Silver curl up closer in response. His hand raises to brush Silver’s still wet bangs from his face, taking the opportunity to check his temperature at the same time. He’s warmer than he was earlier, but still colder than he should be. The shivers that had run through him almost nonstop during their flight have seized, and he looks less tired, although his eyes still slowly blink shut, likely due to the warmth of the fire.
The question of Silver’s behavior dances on the tip of his tongue. He opens his mouth to ask, wanting to figure out whether the extreme change is due to an oncoming cold or not, but Silver looks up at him with wide, almost innocent looking eyes. He yawns again, which looks way cuter and childish than it should for a teen, before burying back into Lance’s arm with a quiet, content hum.
Besides the behavior switch, he seems fine. If he isn’t, he’ll be fine after a few hours inside the house. There’s no need to ask him about anything right now, or even tonight. That can wait until tomorrow, when Silver’s feeling better, and hopefully, is back to his usual self. Plus, with how reluctant Silver has been towards speaking, he’s unsure whether any questions would be met with a verbal answer, and there are only so many basic yes or no questions he can ask with how little information he has.
A surge of protectiveness washes over him, followed by a spark of anger. This only happened because he allowed Pryce near Silver. He knew that Pryce was responsible for Silver’s kidnapping, and had tormented him for years—looking through Weavile’s memories told him more than enough on how Pryce treated Silver—yet he still allowed Pryce to train him. As the responsible adult in the group, since Pryce definitely doesn’t count, it fell on him to protect Silver, a child, from a region-wide terrorist, and his childhood abuser.
He had wanted to take Pryce’s word that he had changed, had hoped that the years Pryce spent trapped in the crack of time had taught him a lesson, especially with Giovanni himself telling Silver to train with the two of them, but he should know that old habits die hard. From the start, he should have been able to realize that Pryce was still looking to train Silver like a weapon, not like the child he is. There were too many signs, and he ignored them all, putting Silver in danger, and a situation that could have cost his life.
From now on, he won’t let Pryce near Silver again, even if he has to have Dragonite hyper beam the old man into the side of the Ice Path to ensure it.