Chapter Text
The first time it happened, Techno didn’t know what it was.
He was out getting ready to feed the dogs. Phil was down in the basement training area, Ranboo was out mining, they had a Syndicate meeting planned for that evening, and he’d gotten up extra early to read a new book. It was a good day.
Techno unlatched the kennel gate and opened it wide, smiling at the sight of all the dogs sitting at attention, their ears pricked forward. He’d trained them well.
“Hey, guys,” he greeted them, stepping back out of the doorway. “At ease.”
The dogs bolted for the door, barking excitedly. Most ran for the wide expanse of fresh snow, tumbling around and play-bowing at each other, but several of them swarmed around him, doing little excited half-jumps and nosing at him for attention.
Techno laughed quietly, giving as many of them scratches behind the ears and pats on the head as he could. “Aw, hey, nice to see you too. Bruh, I spent time with you yesterday, you’re actin’ like you haven’t seen me in weeks! Is this just because I have food for you? Is that it?”
The dogs barked at him, their tails wagging furiously.
“Alright, alright, hang on.” Techno took a big bag of raw steak out of his inventory, chuckling when all of the nearby dogs perked up and hurried over at the sight and smell of food. “Let me just -”
Something was wrong.
Techno froze, trying to determine what was - he felt sort of sick, all of a sudden, what -
And then he was on the ground.
The dogs were whining and nosing at his hands, his face, a few of them were barking in alarm.
Techno’s breathing hitched as he tried to sit up; it felt like another anvil had slammed into his head. Or - actually, his body ached, too, like he’d been hit by an iron golem. Or five.
What had happened?
Max, one of his oldest hounds (and one of his favorites, don’t tell the others), came up and licked Techno’s face, whining.
“’M okay,” Techno mumbled, reaching up to pat Max’s side with an arm that felt like it weighed a hundred pounds. God his muscles hurt. “’M okay, ’s okay.”
The dogs were still upset by whatever was making his head ache like it was splitting open again, so it had to have been something bad, but… he had no idea what could have happened in such a short period of time that would make him hurt this much. Thinking took almost as much effort as moving.
Max nosed his way under Techno’s arm, making a soft little boof sound.
“Good dog.” He might have slurred the words a little, he couldn’t tell, but he leaned against Max to help pull himself upright, stubbornly ignoring the way it made his head spin.
Other dogs came in closer to press against him, keeping him from slumping over again, and in that moment he was so grateful for these animals that he nearly cried. They were such good dogs.
“Gotta… food,” Techno realized hazily, and he was so tired, but the dogs needed to eat, and that was the last thing he had been clear on. Just… just follow the routine, right? Right.
After a minute or so of breathing, waiting for the headache to subside even a little, Techno bit the bullet and forced himself to his feet. He stumbled a little, his muscles screaming in agony - seriously, it felt like he’d sprinted from here to L’manberg without stretching first - but he breathed through it, staying on his feet through sheer willpower. It was just pain. He’d worked through pain before.
He picked up the bag of steak and lugged it into the kennel, filling the dogs’ bowls with maybe a little less care than usual. He did his best, but he was so tired, and the headache was making his vision swim just a little.
This might be a migraine, actually. He’d never had one of those before, but this was bad enough to count, right?
Techno finished feeding the dogs and immediately headed for his cabin, only stumbling a little. He still had hot water on the stove, and he was pretty sure he still had some chamomile tea in the cabinet. Add a splash of regen potion, then take a nap… that sounded amazing.
He managed to make tea without spilling any boiling water, which he counted as a win, and sitting on the couch with his tea and a warm blanket was so much nicer than being out in the snow.
Honestly, though, it was probably a good thing that… whatever that was had happened outside. The snow had probably kept him from hitting his head and making things worse.
Techno imagined something like that happening while he was inside and felt a little flicker of fear, but he forced it down. There was nothing suggesting it would happen again. It was probably just a once and done thing.
He hoped.
His head wasn’t much better by the time he finished his tea, but he curled up on the couch with his blanket and one of the pillows he’d made himself during the “desperately try to find a hobby to occupy all my sudden free time” period of retirement, and he let the exhaustion take over.
When he next woke up, his head was feeling somewhat better, he was stiff but he wasn’t quite as sore, and Phil was looking down at him with a worried expression.
“Hey,” Techno mumbled, blinking up at him.
“Is everything okay?” Phil asked softly, sitting carefully on the edge of the sofa. “You didn’t put the dogs back in the kennel.”
Oh. Oh, he hadn’t, he’d completely forgotten. “Sorry, sorry, I’ll take care of them -”
“No, I got them back in, don’t worry,” Phil assured him. “You’re just usually so careful about them, so I wanted to make sure everything was okay.”
Techno hesitated for a second. He trusted Phil with his life, but something about being mysteriously incapacitated so suddenly and so thoroughly was terrifying. So he just turned to bury his face back in his pillow and muttered “Headache. Bad one.”
“Aw, mate, I’m sorry.” Phil rested a hand on his shoulder. “You still good for the meeting tonight? We can postpone it if you want.”
“Nah, I’m okay. Drank some regen, took a nap, I’m feelin’ better already.” No need to worry the others on his account. It was true that he was feeling better, and he could handle the remains of a headache during the meeting. It would be fine.
Phil hummed, starting to rub gentle circles into Techno’s shoulder with his thumb. “If you’re sure.”
“Mhm.” Techno closed his eyes again, just for a minute. “Don’t worry about me, I’ll be fine.”
“Alright. Just let me know if you change your mind, okay, mate?”
Techno gave him a thumbs up without looking up from the pillow.
He could deal with one headache.
A week passed without incident. Techno relaxed a bit more every day nothing else strange happened, and the sudden migraine seemed more and more like a one-time thing.
He did start getting nightmares again, but that wasn’t new. He’d had them on and off for as long as he’d been on a battlefield, which was practically as long as he could remember. He just drank more tea and read more books whenever they kept him up too much.
He was sorting the books in his tiny library when his stomach dropped.
Something was wrong. He felt sick, but he couldn’t remember doing or eating anything that would make him feel like that, and he felt like something dangerous was coming -
And he was on the floor.
The migraine was back, just as badly as the first time, and his body ached like he’d been used as a punching bag.
His brain was so fuzzy, like he was trying to think through syrup. Everything hurt, so much, and all he wanted to do was crawl into bed and hibernate for a month.
Techno squeezed his eyes shut and tried to breathe. Just - just count, do the counting rhythm, but the numbers slipped out of his mind like sand through his fingers. He tried, and it maybe helped a little, but his head still ached like his skull had been cracked open. Again.
He was still on the floor. Max wasn’t here to help him up this time.
Techno sucked in a breath and forced himself to sit up. The room spun like a top, his head swam like he was about to collapse again, and it took everything he had left to not throw up.
Just breathe. Just breathe.
Every muscle in his body screamed as he slowly pushed himself to his feet, grabbing onto the bookcase for some semblance of stability. In for - how many, five, probably, just count to five each time and that’ll be good enough. He could do that, he could count to five.
His legs wobbled like a colt’s, and he clung a little harder to the bookcase as he fought for balance, but eventually he was able to cautiously stand on his own. Everything still ached, of course, but he was standing. That was something.
Okay. Next step, get to the basement for some regeneration potions.
Techno hissed out a breath through his teeth as he considered the stairs and how muddy everything still felt. Was it really worth it? Really? When he could just stumble over to the couch and collapse and hopefully never have to move ever again?
Wait. His mining bag.
He always kept that bag stocked with a few potions, just in case of an emergency, and it was sitting right near the front door. Getting to the door didn’t require stairs, and he could restock the mining bag when his head stopped pounding.
Keeping one hand on the wall to steady himself, Techno made his way slowly over to the door. He had to pause a few times to breathe and lean against the wall, just to make the room settle around him, but eventually he made it to the bag sitting on the floor next to his front door. Luckily, he kept his supply bags organized, so he was able to quickly find a regeneration potion.
This time, he didn’t bother making tea. He just drank about half the bottle straight, grimacing at the acrid taste of ghast tears and netherwart, and pushed himself back to his feet, stumbling over to the couch.
He practically collapsed onto the couch, and he was out almost immediately.
Techno woke up feeling physically better, like he had last time, but now he didn’t have even the small hope that this was an isolated incident. For something like this, twice was a pattern.
Okay. All he had to do was find the pattern, that’s all, and he could figure out how to fix whatever was happening. Not a problem, he’d done that before. He was good at problem solving.
He forced himself off of the couch - it was a lot easier now, but he still wobbled a little as he first stood up - and headed for his bedroom. He didn’t use it very often anymore, but he kept a journal on his desk, just in case there was anything he wanted to keep track of or catalogue. Techno eased himself down into his desk chair and opened the journal to a blank page.
First, location and what he’d been doing just beforehand. The first… attack, for lack of a better word, had happened outside as he was feeding the dogs, and this second one had been in his house, sorting books. Neither activity was particularly strenuous, there was nothing similar about temperature or environment.
Techno sighed, tapping his fingers against the desk. There was nothing immediately linking the two.
He would figure this out, though. He had to.