Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Image drawn by the amazing @//asya7_771

Two years. 

It had been two years.

A danger beyond our world, beyond our understanding, struck this place and raged with fires we couldn’t control. It nearly reflected how I felt when I first woke up. The world didn’t need a hero, it needed a plan, it needed an exterminator, and what did the world do? Throw the only trick up its sleeve every time things go dastardly. If I couldn’t have stopped it, what made anyone think he could?

I was always the smarter one, the less reckless one, the one who could see the cracks in a plan long before it crumbled. This one was no different. From the moment the idea left his mouth, I knew it would fail—spectacularly so. I flat-out refused to be a part of it. Not out of cowardice or hesitation, but because I wasn’t about to waste my energy on something so utterly doomed.

And I didn’t keep my thoughts to myself. I wasn’t shy about it, either. Oh no, I laid it all out for the blue buffoon. I told him exactly how ridiculous it was, picking apart every weak point until there was nothing left of his half-baked scheme but the wreckage of his arrogance. I told him how it wouldn’t work, how his reckless approach would backfire, and most of all, how throwing that blue buffoon into the fray would do nothing but put him in harm’s way.

He had the nerve to laugh, to smirk like it was some kind of joke. "You care," he teased, his voice light and mocking, as though he’d stumbled on some great revelation.

I didn’t care. Or at least, that’s what I told myself. But even as I brushed off his accusation with a scowl and a sharp retort, I couldn’t shake the way his words clung to me. Care? No. I was just being practical. Logical. Someone had to be.

Funny how he teased over the fact that I cared. I didn’t.

I didn’t care about him. I cared about how much of a waste of time and resources it would be if we tried things his way. Even his fox friend said we didn’t know enough about this creature to make drastic choices, and we had to wait and gather information. I didn’t like that plan either, but it was better than that faker’s idea.

Maybe I was wrong.

Maybe I did care. A little bit.

We had run out of time. The creature was burning not just the land we stood on but also holes through time and when the future was at risk, guess who showed up?

That Silver Hedgehog.

He didn’t say much, only that our future seemed greyer, and he had to come by to find out why or what did this. Everyone thought the grey meant the ashes.

How could we have been so misled?

They thought by using the Chaos Emeralds, the idiots and I could have stopped what was to come. They thought we could save the future. Maybe if I had actually agreed to go along, then…

If I had just been a little less stubborn as Rouge put it…

Two years.

It had been two years since that faker vanished from this world as soon as the demon was taken out. It couldn’t be possible. No matter how dire the fight, no matter how close he came to the edge, he would return with that same cocky grin, cracking jokes like nothing could touch him. Not this time.

The silver hedgehog returned to us in one piece, and even that had felt like a miracle. He crashed back to the ground like a fallen star, his descent cutting through the night sky before landing in a heap of glowing embers. A cloud of dust blocked our view for a moment. At first, we thought he wouldn’t wake up, after a crash like that, who would have? When he did, the confusion in his eyes mirrored our own.

He recounted what little he could: the moment they reached the creature’s core, the feeling of heat so intense it felt like it might burn his very soul. Then cold—unbearable cold, like he was drifting through a void. Heavy, then light. A bright, blinding shine followed by nothing but darkness.

He admitted he wasn’t sure if we’d even won. His uncertainty was a stone that sank deep into all of us. But the evaporation of the creature, the way its oppressive presence dissolved into the air, gave us hope. For the first time, the world felt quiet. Truly quiet. And yet, the silence carried an unbearable weight.

Where was he…?

They had searched everywhere. Every inch of the battlefield was scoured, not left untouched, every ditch chased down, every crevice turned inside out. Days turned to weeks as they expanded their search. They called for help from locals, reaching out to every Mobian who might’ve been nearby, then to those far beyond the battle’s reach. Friends called friends and called allies. Word spread like wildfire, and soon there wasn’t a corner of the planet where his name wasn’t whispered. 

And yet, nothing. 

Not a single sign of him.

Things already started to change that first week. As much as any foe claimed to be relieved, no one could deny that there was a sudden shift in this world that left anyone who cared to lose any passion or need to finish what they started. It was as if that blue hedgehog was holding the world together by simply existing. I think it’s disgusting.

Any of his enemies who would make faces around these parts simply stopped attacking after they realized he wouldn’t be saving the day. Eggman went into hiding. 

At first, most of his friends would be doing his duties, but I realized they were sloppy and uncoordinated. They relied on that faker to tell them what to do. Many were aggressive but reckless. They never gave up and kept fighting with “hero’s honor” as he used to put it.

But even they grew tired. Or frustrated? Maybe both.

That left only me to clean up his messes. Anything that faker didn’t have the guts or strength to do, I did it without hesitation or second-guessing myself. His so-called friends tried to convince me otherwise. They tried to stop me, saying it wasn’t the “right thing”, but it was his weak will that let people like Eggman come back again and again without so much as a second thought over who he’d be hurting or the lives he was ending.

I can’t say I'm proud of what I did, and I didn’t feel like a hero by doing the things I had to do, but it had to be done. Morality flies out the window when those who matter are at risk. Some people never change, and when the same strategy isn’t making progress, you need to change your course of action.

It wasn’t just the fights that wore people to their bones.

The search parties grew thin, fatigue overcame many. Some of his friends who encouraged others to keep going, began to give up looking for him themselves around the 6-month mark. I couldn’t blame them, the longest he’d been missing was no more than a week or two, then he’s show back up and tell everyone about the crazy adventure he’s had on some other planet or timeline or dimension. I guess his adventure isn’t over just yet.

After a year, even the echidna, the Master Emerald guardian, had the wise idea that maybe the faker was gone. He was one that, despite his hot head, was wiser than most. Can’t say the same for the rest of them.

The fox has lost his spark. He’s just a kid, yet I’ve seen him work harder than most adults I know. Still, he refuses to give up. While others have moved on, he keeps searching for his “best friend,” one of the last few who still believe there’s hope. So few remain that I could count them on one hand.

The silver hedgehog refused to return home until his friend was found, saying the future wasn’t saved. Nothing had changed. The world was still grey.

He’s been here for two years, and he’s tired. I could tell. All of his friends are. There is no denying that many lost the life and spark in their eyes and color from their faces, the spirit in their souls had been fading. I stand strong today.

Many claim I’m heartless for not trying harder, for not helping when it mattered, but I had warned him, I had warned them all, and they glare at me like it’s my fault that blue idiot’s missing. It’s not like I hadn’t been looking for him, but where else could one look? Rouge basically begged me to keep looking, and I hate to see others beg. I had to put my foot down. It was pointless. I had searched hundreds of cities, dozens of times over and nothing has ever changed. No new clues, no new leads. Not even those useless Chaotix could solve this case.

I never stopped helping, though. I just gave up looking for him and started… talking. Talking to his closest friends. The echidna didn’t trust me at first, but he let his guard down. I never had any interest in the Master Emerald, and it showed. We spoke few words, but I believe my presence was enough. I’d stay on Angel Island for hours, just sitting on the edge as the echidna stood behind me. We’d watch the sun rise and set. We only spoke about his lost friend once, and surprisingly, he called his friend foolish but brave as well. Regardless of his missing status, he did stop the monster.

He disapproved of what I had done to our enemies, both old and new, but he understood. He always did. Even if he didn’t agree, even if he looked at me with something close to disappointment, he never questioned why. He knew. Similar to his missing friend.

Still, he was surprised I let Eggman live.

The truth? I barely considered it mercy. When I confronted him expecting at least a half-decent fight, the man just sat in front of the metal hedgehog he crafted many moons ago. He was barely a shell of himself. There was no grand battle, no final stand, no monologue of any sort. Just a broken old man, slumped in the ruins of his own making, surviving but not truly living. Maybe he had fallen into a deep depression, unable to rise from the weight of the truth. Maybe he had already accepted his fate when he heard what I had done to the others. It didn’t matter to me.

I took everything from him.

Every machine, every base, every twisted invention– broken. I reduced it all to rubble. I burned every blueprint, every contingency plan, every last tool and machine. His armies of mindless drones? I tore them apart piece by piece, ripped every bolt from its screw, and left them as nothing more than heaps of scrap, scattered in the ashes.

Even his most prized creation, the faker’s metal copy, the one that had tormented us, tormented him for years—I deactivated it with my own hands. It didn’t fight back. It couldn’t. I made sure of that.

And in the end, I left him there, surrounded by the fire of his life’s work. Not as an act of mercy, not as a warning. Just a conclusion to a story long overdue.

I only visit the fox once every couple of weeks, and not for more than ten minutes, just making sure he’s alive. I’m not the only one who visits, many of their mutuals tend to stop by and check on him, and so see if there are any updates. My visits became few and far between. I didn’t care for updates, even if the fox shared them in frustration.

There is one hedgehog I haven’t heard from ever since he vanished.

I truthfully believe that she took it the hardest.

Rose…

I don’t blame her for it. Dare I say, I acted the same way when I lost…

But at the same time, I do. I do blame her. She spent years foolishly chasing after her “one true love” like a young schoolgirl fawning over the older student. She would plan weekly picnics, prepare special outings where the two could spend time together, give him meaningful gifts and trinkets that she hoped he would treasure, and offer unlimited amounts of support and affection when he acted like a fool. She would chase him to the ends of the Earth and even stop her own plans just to appease him. If he leapt off a bridge, she would follow without a second thought. She was nearly obsessed with him. He took it all for granted.

He did care, she was his friend after all, but he never thanked her or returned any of the kindness or thoughts she so willingly threw at him. He never took the time to do anything she wanted to do, like garden, bak,e or watch her favorite romcom movies. I have no idea if she realized that, or if she was just happy to be pleasing that fool.

Many leave groceries and meals on her front porch, they knock, they call. They miss her. No one had seen her outside ever since that day, not even to fight the bad guys. She never leaves her home, and while some go inside, they always come out with a defeated look in their eyes.

I would spend days watching her when she was nearby and I began to memorize her routine. From her early morning baking to her late-night exercise. She would smile, she would wave and she would have something gentle in her eyes whenever she saw me. A softness I don't see in many. A softness that I miss dearly.

I remember. I remember she would spend her free time in the garden behind her home, plucking weeds and watering her flowers. She was so proud of her work, I could see it in her stance, in those gentle, soft eyes. She loved that garden. She loved those flowers. She would talk to them like they were her closest friends like they held secrets no one, not even her friends knew about. They whispered to one another.

Those bushes and flower beds have long since wilted and died overtime without the proper care and maintenance. Weeds and tall grass dominated the backyard that she had spent months pruning and protecting. The flickyfeeder that had always been filled with seeds had been empty for months. I hadn’t seen any flickies now that I think about it.

“ She’s just grieving .” But haven’t they all?

She’s the only one I have yet to visit. Maybe it’s out of respect. Maybe I just couldn’t care less about someone who was this hung up on losing a “hero”. Her “hero”. Rouge had visited her one time only, about 9 months back. Rouge said she seemed… fine. Said Amy was acting… different but she wasn’t a mess. The inside of her home wasn’t in chaos, nor was she. Rouge was afraid to bring up or mention him but she didn’t have to.

“ I know he’s away right now, but I KNOW he’ll be back! He’s ▇▇▇▇! He honestly can’t just leave us like that! ” Her words had been firm, almost defiant, as if saying them out loud would make them true. But that was nearly a year ago. And today marked two years since he disappeared.

I finally found to courage to go to her home. 

The world had lost its color in his absence. Everything seemed duller, like the vibrancy had been drained from the sky, the streets, the people. And her home… it was no different.

The once warm and inviting cottage that held fresh pie on the window sill and singing from the inside now stood in quiet stillness. The air around it felt heavier. The windows, once glowing with life, seemed dim, the curtains drawn just enough to keep the outside world at bay. Her garden once so carefully tended, was now overgrown, tangled with weeds and wilted flowers.

I knocked twice.

“Rose? It’s Shadow.”

Chapter Text

(Image drawn by the amazing @//asya7_771)

~~~~~

“Rose? It’s Shadow.”

One.

Two…

Three…

No response.

I held my breath, hesitating just outside her door. A part of me wanted to turn back, to leave before I forced my presence on her. If she didn’t want company, who was I to push my way in? Push my luck. But today wasn’t like the other days, so I had to bite my tongue and push back those doubts. I had to see her. But not for my own sake. I visited and spoke to many of his friends who all lost him. All except Rose.

It wasn’t fair. Not to her, not to anyone. Especially not to him.

The weight of that thought settled deep in my chest, heavy and suffocating. How long had it been since anyone truly talked to the real her? Since anyone looked at her and saw more than just the girl he left behind? She had built walls around herself, and every day they only seemed to grow taller, stronger. If I didn’t do this now, would there ever be another chance?

I exhaled slowly, letting go of the breath I hadn’t even realized I was holding. My fingers tightened into a fist, then relaxed as I reached for the doorknob. The metal was cold against my palm, grounding me for a moment before I turned the handle.

Creeeeeaaaak….

Her front door opened with a gentle push. It was unlocked. Had it always been like this? Did she leave it that way all the time, too exhausted—or too indifferent—to bother answering when someone knocked? Did she at least lock it at night? The thought unsettled me. It didn’t seem like her, not the Rose I knew. Leaving the door open like this was reckless, dangerous. Anyone could walk in. Anyone could hurt her. And if she wasn’t even aware of that risk… then something was very wrong.

Maybe she hoped that if she kept her doors open, he’d return to her.

Did she even know I was here? Was she expecting someone else?

I stepped inside, immediately noticing the difference. The air was heavier and colder. There was no warmth, no lingering scent of fresh flowers or vanilla candles—nothing that made it feel like her home. It felt abandoned, yet lived in, like someone existing within walls they no longer recognized.

I had only been inside this place twice before, and both times had been minor visits to pick up something for Rouge, but I had memorized every detail, every nook and cranny of the space she had once filled with light. Now, it felt empty, and when I looked around, I understood why. The walls were bare in places where frames had once hung, the outlines of missing pictures still faintly visible against the paint. The photos of her friends had been removed, their absence leaving behind nothing but empty hooks and nails.

And then I noticed him. Or rather, the lack of him.

Every image, every reminder of him was gone. The pictures she had clung to, the ones she had framed so carefully, placed with such love—they had vanished. Not a single trace remained.

I turned away and focused on the hall ahead, yet I could feel my chest tightening. Had she finally let go? Had she simply erased him?

That should have been my first sign.

There were plenty of vases that once carried fresh flowers, but many were empty. Some had wilted flowers that appeared weak as if a gentle touch would wither them to dust. One vase had new flowers that added some life to this place. They didn’t look fresh, as they drooped a little, but they were more alive than anything else in this home. It’s more than likely someone had dropped by with flowers some time this week or the last one.

“Rose?” I peered across a corner, holding onto the doorframe. She wasn’t in the kitchen. That wasn’t surprising, but what was shocking was how orderly everything seemed. The space was untouched, almost unnaturally clean. No dishes piled in the sink, no forgotten cups left on the counter. In fact, a few plates and glasses rested neatly in a drying rack, freshly scrubbed, their surfaces gleaming under the dim kitchen light.

But despite its tidiness, the kitchen felt… wrong. Lifeless. It was devoid of the warmth it once spread, the comforting scent of something sweet baking in the oven or a freshly brewed cup of tea. The little details that made it hers —a half-opened sugar jar, a spoon left beside the kettle, a stray flour stain on the counter—were absent.

It was pristine but empty. Hollow. It lacked that sweetness that it normally carried.

Against my better judgment. I opened her oven. It looked clean, but it clearly hadn’t been used in months. Many of her favorite cookbooks that normally sat neatly on her countertop were missing. I would see her through her kitchen window, and she always had one open to a page I couldn’t read. She loved those books, those mysterious recipes. Many were just gone. The two that remained were collecting dust. How odd seeing that everything else lacked the noise. I closed the oven door and brushed off the grime as a courtesy.

I left the cold, empty kitchen and wandered from room to room, searching. She was here—she had to be. She wouldn’t just leave, she couldn’t. She’d never leave this place. But where was she?

Each empty room only made my chest tighten a little more. The silence pressed in on me, suffocating. Why wasn’t she answering my voice? I quickened my pace, checking every corner, every closet, my unease growing with each step.

For Chaos’s sake, why did her home feel so much bigger on the inside!? The hallways stretched longer, the rooms felt endless, and the walls seemed to close in the fewer rooms I had to investigate. It was as if the house itself was swallowing her and I whole, pulling me deeper into a space where I couldn’t reach her.

I stopped.

Her bed chambers.

It was the only place left in this maze of a house, she had to be in there. Maybe she was sleeping. Napping? That’s why she couldn’t hear me. Perhaps she, like Eggman, spent her days lying in a full room with empty memories and fading eyes. That would be the best case. Unlike Eggman, I wouldn’t burn her home and leave her to be depressed.

But that’s not how Rouge described her to me. She was different but she was not wallowing in a dark pool of water, trying to survive. Right? It had been another year since this news had been given to me. Times have changed.

Did Rouge lie to me to stop me from worrying?

No. I shouldn’t blame her for Rose’s condition, not when I had been the one avoiding the truth. It wasn’t Rouge’s words that kept me away; it was my own doubts that kept me from seeing her. I should have been here sooner. I should have been here when it mattered.

“Rose?” I knocked three times.

Nothing.

No reply.

I don’t crack under pressure. I don’t panic. The ultimate lifeform doesn’t get afraid. But for a fleeting moment, I let something slip past. What if she was hurt? What if she did something to herself today because of what happened two years ago? What if this was the breaking point, the final straw that sent her spiraling into darkness?

What kind of fool is she if she did–!?

The thought twisted in my chest, tightening like a vice. I couldn’t shake the sense that something was terribly wrong.

“Rose–?!”  I called her name, panic edging into my voice before I could stop it. The door, still slightly ajar, swung open under my grip, and I rushed inside, my eyes scanning every corner of the room.

Her familiar scent didn’t cling to the air like it usually did—nothing was out of place, and yet everything felt wrong.

Her bed was made, the covers neatly draped over the mattress in a cascade of dull pink. Heart-shaped pillows rested softly against the headboard, arranged with an order and not the usual Rose touch. Even the shoes that had once been scattered haphazardly by her door were neatly placed in a corner of the room, their usual chaotic presence gone. Her vanity was immaculate, not a single speck of dust or sign of use. It was like no one had been there at all.

But it was the sight of her hammer, leaning forgotten against the wall, that made me question things. It was her signature weapon, the one thing she never left behind, the one thing that gave her strength and let her believe she was more than just a background or side character in someone else’s story; was just... sitting there. Dust collecting on its handle, neglected as if she had no reason to even touch it anymore. Much like her cookbook. The one she’d always used, the one she cherished, untouched, just like everything else in her room.

By the looks of it, if you didn’t know Rose, then you’d think this is good. This was what she passed off as mentally stable.

I knew better.

Something was very wrong. I could feel it in the air, thick and suffocating. Where was she? What had happened here? My mind raced, the sharp edges of fear and frustration mingling as I tried to make sense of it all.

Maybe today… today she finally left her home. Maybe that’s why, when she left, the door was unlocked. She’ll probably be home soon and I would hate to startle her. No need for her to think she has an intruder in her home.

I turned to leave.

She stood there.

We both were still.

My breath was caught in my throat. It was like seeing a ghost of someone I had lost. She was there and she was real. For the millionth time today, I felt confused. Doubts and questions swarmed through my mind. Did she just get back from wherever she went to? Did I somehow miss a room she just so happened to be staying at? Was she always here and my own visions blocked her from my sights? No questions escaped my mouth, stuck to my tongue like honey.

I took the moment of clarity and calm to gaze at her and compare her from when I last saw her two years ago to the day. She hadn’t changed much at all. Rose. She still wore her favorite red robes, a color that matched her complexion well and drove many aloof. Her red headband held her curls in place. Her red shoes seemed a bit worn, like she hadn’t gotten a new pair in a while, nor had she ever stopped wearing these exact shoes. Her pink quills hadn’t grown out much in two years– or she had them cut. That's the more logical explanation.

“You’re… You’re here.” The silence broke. Her voice hadn’t changed much but there was a noticeable difference. It was a bit hoarse, a bit deeper. More mature, but more broken. Two years have changed her, yet she was still so sweet sounding. A sickly sweet sound But then her lips parted and formed something I hadn’t seen in forever. A smile. A small smile formed over her lips. A smile I… One I didn’t recognize.

Rose had always smiled at me. Whenever we saw one another, she acknowledged me and instead of fearing me or being wary or angry, she still gave me that warm, welcoming, and friendly smile. It was nothing compared to the smile she gave when he was around, but it was the little bits of Rose I could call my own. She gave 99% of herself to the faker, but that 1%... I would accept her obsession with the blue buffoon if I could keep that 1% all to myself. Her hugs, her waves, her smile. However, this one was different.

She spoke again. “A-about time, you know… About time you came by, I was really starting to think you didn’t care. Care about.. me. What finally made you come around, huh? Couldn’t stay away forever? Taken care of everything else in your little agenda? Realized that I needed you?” Her voice shook a bit. Those final words rushed out like waterfalls. How unlike her.

I took a step toward her. “Rose-”

“Oh! I just realized, I-I am so sorry! I wasn’t expecting your arrival! Oh Chaos, oh Chaos… My house is a mess. I am a mess! It’s all a mess! I wasn’t ready, you shouldn’t have to see me like this- hahaha…” Strained. Shaky. Her hands began to shake along with her tone. It was as if she was… terrified? I glanced around to make a better understanding of my environment again. Her home was anything but a mess. Orderly, organized, everything that remained was in it’s appropriate place. Well… to others it may come off as orderly. I knew better. This place was a mess in its own way.

“After two years…”

Those words. She said them like I was the one who had vanished, like I was the one who had disappeared without a trace. And… maybe, in a way, I had.

For two years, I kept my distance, just like him. I hadn’t reached out, hadn’t checked in on her, hadn’t spoken a single word to her in all that time. I had convinced myself it was better that way—better for her, better for me. But now, standing here, hearing the weight in her voice, I wasn’t so sure anymore.

I felt something uneasy settle in my chest. Should I apologize?

Would it even matter now? Would it change anything?

I hesitated, torn between pride and guilt, between logic and something far more human. Was this really the right time to say I’m sorry —or would it only make things worse? She needed people in her life and where was I?

“I-”

“No, no! Don’t apologize!” Her voice cut me off, “I know how busy you can get. I mean, the world needed its hero. I can’t expect you to stop saving people just to come by and see me!”

Hero?

Did Rose see me as a hero? There is no way she could really see me like that. Not after everything I’ve done, after the choices I’ve made. A hero wouldn’t have done the things I have. A hero wouldn’t have left a trail of destruction in his wake, wouldn’t have taken matters into his own hands the way I did.

She had to know by now. She must have heard about it—the whispers, the rumors, the truths buried beneath the fear. And yet, she still looked at me like that. Still spoke as if I was someone worth believing in.

How could she? How could she still see something good in me? How could I be a hero to her?

“But you… you are here now! You DID come by to see me! That means something, right?”

“...Ro-”

“ RIGHT?! ”

… I took a step back.

She took a step forward.

“I– I’m sorry! Please don’t go,” she pleaded, her voice trembling as if each word was a desperate attempt to hold onto something slipping through her fingers. Her hands flew to her stomach, clutching at her sides in a way that seemed instinctual, like someone trying to soothe a gnawing, unbearable pain. It wasn’t just a casual gesture—there was an urgency to it, an almost frantic need to alleviate whatever discomfort was troubling her.

“I’m not-” The realization stunned me. I’d never seen her like this, not in all the time I’d known her. Her eyes, wide and pleading, locked onto mine, her expression a mixture of vulnerability and something deeper, almost primal. It was as if the hunger inside her wasn’t just physical—it felt emotional, too, like it had taken hold of her entirely.

“It’s just…” She fell to her knees. Was she pleading? I stared at her, it was pathetic, it was… So sad to see. “I missed you so much…”

This was unexpected. The Amy standing before me now was nothing like the composed, distant figure Rouge had described. The Amy I knew—at least, the one I thought I knew—was always collected, capable of keeping her emotions in check, even in the worst of times. But this? This was nothing like that.

Her movements were frantic, almost hysterical, like a person teetering on the edge of a breakdown. I could see the tension in her shoulders, the way her hands trembled as she clutched at herself. Her breathing came in short, ragged bursts, and her eyes darted around the room, wide with panic. It was as though she had completely unraveled before me, shattering into pieces I couldn’t quite grasp.

“Do you know how many nights I wished you were here…? Whenever anyone visits –Cream, Tails, Rouge, Knuckles– I always ask how you were, where you were. No one ever gave me a straight answer, but say you’d turn up eventually! I even leave my door unlocked every day! So just in case you ever did come back, you could come to me first and nothing, not a door, not a lock, not the time you were missing would keep us apart!”

Something coiled around my chest, tightening like a snake, squeezing the air from my lungs. I struggled to breathe, the pressure unbearable, like invisible hands were slowly choking the life out of me. Come back? The words echoed in my mind, desperate, almost pleading. What in Gaia’s name did she mean by that?

Was she…?

“And here you are! I bet you didn’t even go see Knuckles or Cream or even Tails first about your return! About whatever crazy adventures you had. About what happened to you that day and how you even came back. You came straight to me! Because you love me, right?” She was shaking. Her pupils locked onto me, wide and unblinking, yet there was a hollow emptiness in them, a look of someone who was there but not fully present. Her gaze seemed to waver, unable to settle, flickering between me and some distant thought I couldn’t grasp. Her mouth faltered between smiles and frowns as though it couldn’t decide which emotion to wear. Shaking. Her whole body was shaking.

Did she…? 

No.

Could she really…?

“I wish I could say I hate you for leaving me, wish I could say I moved on like how everyone else seemed to… They gave up ever thinking you’d be back, said it was hopeless. People who thought were friends. It’s been too long, they said. They gave up on you, but I didn’t! I never, ever stopped loving you! Waiting for you. Chaos… Oh I never stopped… I stayed loyal. For you. For us! Please don’t deny it anymore.”

Rose kneeled before me, taking my hand. My gloved hand, like how his hands were gloved. Her touch was tender, but the intensity in her eyes was undeniable. She looked at me the way she used to look at him, with that same feverish gleam, an adoration that bordered on obsession.

“You love me… I love you… Please say it with me…”

But it wasn’t the same.

It was worse. The “love” in her eyes were still there, but it was fractured, twisted by something far more desperate, more fragile. It was haunted, as though the very act of holding my hand was an attempt to anchor herself to something, anything. Anchor herself to a memory of him…

Then, she said it… And everything broke loose.

“We’re soulmates, Sonic …”

…

. . .

. . . . . . .

What. 

The.

Fuck.

Chapter Text

(Image drawn by @//asya7_771!)

Soulmates.

Soulmates.

Something about the word felt like a sin at this moment—forbidden fruit from the tree of knowledge. A sweet whisper that even the deaf could hear or the blind could see. What was a soulmate? Someone you stand by who shares a deep, natural, and unexplainable connection with you. One that transcends across time, logic, and circumstance. It is someone who understands you at your very core, someone who feels like home as if your souls were always meant to intertwine in this world and the next. There were many kinds of soulmates, and you didn’t have to be with them, but you were tethered to them. The red string of fate, I would hear others say.

Did I even have a soul? The question lingered in my mind, heavier than it should have been. Given what I am—what I was made to be—it was hard to say. I wasn’t born like the others. I wasn’t brought into this world through fate or chance, but through design, through purpose. A creation, a construct, something shaped to be perfect, to be ultimate . But perfection doesn’t leave room for things like souls, does it?

Where I came from was nothing but cold steel and sterile laboratories, a world of calculations, experiments, and expectations. My existence was never meant to be one of freedom or choice, only duty. Only survival. Only power. 

With all that I have seen, all that I have done, it made me wonder… if I did have a soul, was it something I had already lost? Or was it something I truly never had to begin with?

I wanted to believe that I did.

I stood there, frozen, as Rose knelt before me like I was some divine figure she had been blessed to be in the presence of. The sight was unsettling—eerie, even. There was something deeply wrong about it, something that would make anyone’s stomach twist and churn with this sick display. She wasn’t truly looking at me; she was looking through me, seeing someone else entirely.

She saw him .

The faker. The one who had been gone for two years and let her deteriorate into the shell of what she once was. The young woman so many loved and needed in their life.

Rose wasn’t well. Anyone with even the slightest bit of awareness could tell just by the way she spoke, by the way she addressed me, and by the sheer desperation laced within her voice. But I didn’t need her words to understand it. I had already seen the signs, felt the unease creeping in from the moment I stepped into her home.

Outside, her world was falling apart—her garden left to wither, the very life she once nurtured now tangled in neglect. But inside? It was pristine, almost too perfect, a reflection of someone trying to hold onto control when everything else had slipped through their fingers. It wasn’t like her. None of this was like her.

And yet, here she was, kneeling before me, but not seeing me at all.

She looked at me with a twisted, sad smile. Her eyes were empty apart from the devotion that glazed her irises and pupils. Was she expecting me to smile back? Smile that cocky grin like how he had whenever he got overconfident? That same overconfidence that got him killed?

I couldn’t. How could I?

How could she…?

How could she still love a dead man when I was right here?

How could she see him in me?

It was an insult—a mockery of my very existence! She truly thought I was him ? The faker?

It felt like I was meeting her for the first time all over again, back when she ran up to me without hesitation, threw her arms around me from behind, and called me “her Sonic.” I remembered how stiff I had gone, how every muscle in my body tensed at the sheer audacity of her mistake. Anyone with half a mind would call her blind for failing to recognize the difference between us, and under normal circumstances, I would have agreed.

But in her defense, when we first "met," the room she had cornered me in had been dark. The only thing she had seen was my silhouette, a mere outline standing where she expected him to be. She had called out to a ghost, and unfortunately for both of us, I was the one who had answered.

The real shame?

She’s still living in that darkness. Even now, even here, she still sees nothing but a shadow of who she wants to see. Ironic is it not?

I wanted to correct her. Dammit , I wanted to grab her by the shoulders, shake her until she came to her senses, and force her to see reality. I wasn’t him! I wasn’t that faker! I never had been, and I never would be.

It was me. Shadow. The one who had stood by in silence, watching her silently for years, but now avoided her as she tried to piece herself back together since that day. The one who thought— foolishly , it seemed—that she had considered me a friend, not a “hero”. But if that were true, if she really saw me for me , then how could she make this mistake? How could she look at me and see him instead?

Was this what she did now? Did she see everyone as that blue numbskull, twisting their features in her mind until they fit the illusion she so desperately wanted? Or was it just me ?

Was it only me she had chosen to turn into him ?

How vile.

How discouraging.

Perhaps the months of being confined and locked within the walls of her own home—even if the doors were never truly locked—had caused her mind to spiral into something unrecognizable. Isolation could break even the strongest of spirits, I have seen it time and time again, and Rose had always thrived on companionship. She thrived on the need for communication, talking about “feelings” and wanted us all to get along; be one big, happy family. Maybe this was what happened when she was left alone for too long, when the silence stretched on for days, weeks, and years , with no one constantly beside her to fill the empty space.

Maybe she was grieving incorrectly. But was there even a correct way to grieve? Losses like these had no rulebook, no universal guide to follow.

When I lost Maria, I didn’t know what to do. My paths all blurred together, and I was vengeful, I was angry. I did things I regret, but I have made peace with it. I have made peace with losing Maria… She would have lived the life she wanted if she had been given more time, but I couldn’t have prevented it. I wasn’t fast or strong enough. And it was not my fault.

Funny… because it was actually Rose who told me all of these words one day. The anniversary of Maria’s death.

Some would cry, some buried themselves in work, some tried to move on, and others… others clung desperately to ghosts. Was this what she was doing? Holding onto a phantom, an illusion of someone who no longer existed in the world, refusing to let him fade from her life?

Or was this something deeper? Something worse?

Could she be suffering a full psychotic break, the weight of loss finally fracturing her mind beyond repair? From what I could tell, Rose had never lost someone this close to her before. Really lost them… If so, had this been happening all along, hidden beneath carefully placed smiles and hollow reassurances?

It was possible this wasn’t even the first time. Maybe she had gone through this last year after he vanished, mourning him in secret while the rest of us assumed she was fine. Maybe she had done this every night, whispering to the darkness, convincing herself that any moment now, he’d come home.

I hate to see her like this.

But no one ever spoke about it. Rouge never mentioned it, and neither did anyone else. No one warned me about this, about her . If this had happened before, it had been kept quiet—buried, ignored, dismissed. Maybe they hoped that she would come back on her own.

So was this really the first time? Or was it simply the first time anyone had noticed ? Or the first time anyone bothered to help her.

I considered turning around and walking out, no, running out. Leaving this all behind. Forgetting what I had just witnessed, pushing it so far into the depths of my mind that it would feel like nothing more than a bad dream. I could come back tomorrow, pretend none of this happened, and see if Rose was acting like her usual self. Or at least closer to normal than… this.

Maybe I should bring Rouge next time. Not because I was afraid—whatever this was, I had faced far worse in my lifetime—but because I needed someone else to see it. To confirm whether or not I was imagining things. Was I the only one seeing this unraveling before me? Had everyone else missed it, or had they chosen to ignore it?

Or worse—maybe I was the one losing my grip.

Maybe I was the crazy one.

Then there was that little nag in the back of my mind. A tiny voice. Multiple voices all sounding like ones I’ve never heard. Ones I've conjured up on my own accord to convince me that running wasn’t the right choice. Stay. 

Stay?

She’s desperate. She’s sick. 

I should take her to the fox. He’ll know what to do. He can handle this better than I could.

She needs you. 

She needs help.

Don’t leave her alone. She can’t be left alone. Do you really want to be responsible for another fatality? One YOU could have prevented?

I told myself it wasn’t my fault. Rose had told me so. 

And look at her now. Will you let her wisdom be for not?

…

I looked at her. Really looked at her.

Rose had been, well, a blooming rose in a field of weeds. I never found solace or friendship in anyone. Not the fox, not the echidna, definitely not the faker. I couldn’t even call Rouge a friend, she was more like a partner in crime if anything. Of course, we were not committing crimes, or we hadn’t. I had her back, she had mine. Then there was the young Cream. She was innocent, and small, and always saw hope in the darkest situations. Maybe that’s why I favored her over nearly everyone else.

Then there was Rose.

A distant memory came back to me.

The rain had started sometime in the evening. I hadn’t thought much of it at first—just another storm rolling in, the kind that turned the streets dark and blurred the city lights into a mess of color. I had planned to leave, to disappear into the night like I always did. Return back to base and to Rouge and OMEGA who could care less if I ever did come back.

When the first few drops hit my face, I inhaled deeply and clicked my air shoes into hyperdrive. I concentrated and prepared for my swift journey.

Then I heard her voice.

"Shadow, wait!”

I turned back to find her standing in the doorway of her home, a hesitant look on her face. She wasn't dressed for the rain, only in a loose sweater and leggings, her socks just barely peeking past the threshold where dry floor met wet ground.

She wasn’t stopping me for anything urgent. There was no crisis, no danger, no favor to ask. Just her, standing there, eyes softer than I was used to.

“Come inside," she said with a smile and wave. "Just for a little while.”

I don’t know why I listened. Maybe it was the way she asked—not demanding, not pleading, just… offering.

So I stepped inside.

She had never invited me in before— not like this , not out of sheer kindness, not without some ulterior motive, right?

I remember staying there for no more than an hour while the worst of the storm passed. Instead of dashing back to base, Rose had lent me an umbrella – pink with red strawberries– so I wouldn’t get even slightly wet. Against my better judgment, I used it. It might have taken me 2 hours to get home instead of the 10 seconds I had counted on, but I couldn’t refuse or deny her. I left the accessory on her porch the following morning before she woke up. 

I searched my memory, combing through the countless interactions I had with her, scanning for a moment I might have overlooked. A time when she had extended this kind of warmth to me without reason. I remember her waves. Her smiles. Her hellos and her goodbyes. I remember her leadership.

It couldn’t be. I remember everything. My mind is impeccable. It does not falter, it does not forget. I have no need for sentimentality clouding my recollection, no reason to fabricate memories that never existed. If this had happened before, I would have known.

And yet, somehow, it felt… familiar.

Suddenly, more memories with Rose came flooding past me as I had purposefully locked them out. I remember when she gave me a slice of strawberry shortcake on her birthday, even though I said I didn’t want any to begin with. I remember she gave me a gift for the holidays (it was coffee beans, in case anyone was wondering) when I didn’t have anyone to celebrate with or any reason to. I remember her leaving flowers for Maria… She didn’t have to, but she did. It was the day we had that talk. The day she helped me realize it was not my fault.

I couldn’t fight it. That’s who she was. Rose had always carried kindness within her like a flickering flame, even in the darkest of places. 

She was naive—of course, painfully so. She was reckless—undeniably, frustratingly reckless. But above all, she was kind.

She had been kind to me when no one else had been. How odd …

There was no reason for her to do so, either. I had never been entirely soft with her, never indulged her daydreams or entertained her endless optimism. If anything, I had been a wall she crashed into time and time again, unable to break through. Others kept their distance from me, wary, distrustful. But she never hesitated. Not even once.

Maybe that’s why I had made a silent vow to protect her. Maybe that’s why, in rare moments, I let my guard slip, even if just slightly, and allowed myself to smile .  

Rose and Cream… they both held the elements I missed most in Maria. Kindness. Hope.

Two things that once felt so far removed from me, so impossible to grasp again. And yet, in fleeting moments like this, they didn’t seem so distant. Rose wasn’t so distant.

I wasn’t foolish enough to believe such things could last. This world was not built for people like her. Her light would always be at risk of being swallowed whole by the darkness that lurked just beneath the surface.

But as long as I was here, as long as I was able, I would keep that darkness at bay, even if she never realized it.

That’s the promise I made to her.

I had broken that promise…

...

“Why aren’t you saying anything?”

I snapped back to the present, forcing my mind to let go of the thoughts that threatened to drag me under. My gaze flickered to the glassy surface of her windows, catching my own reflection for only a moment before I focused on her .

She looked panicked—more so than before, if that was even possible. Her breaths came in shallow, uneven gasps, and her fingers trembled where they clutched the fabric of her red dress. If she wanted, she could have torn it into threads.

The Rose I once knew—the girl who was filled with warmth and relentless optimism—was nowhere to be found. 

Long gone were the kind, understanding eyes that once held an unshakable faith in the world around her. Long gone was the quiet, unwavering kindness that she gave so freely, even when it was undeserved. Long gone was the girl who saw me, truly saw me, beneath the walls I built.

Long gone… was the memory of me . Of us.

Of the fleeting, tender moments we once shared—moments I had dismissed as insignificant, moments I had pushed away . I had convinced myself they were meaningless, but now, as they resurfaced like old scars that had never truly healed, I felt something unfamiliar creep into my chest. Cherished memories…

A dull ache. A weight I hadn’t anticipated.

Could it be…?

Could I cherish her?

The very thought was absurd. I had spent years keeping my distance from everyone, ensuring that I remained untouched by such sentiments so I could never be hurt like that again. Lose anyone again. Affection, not love, attachment not obsession—these were distractions, weaknesses I had no use for. Not unlike others who thought it made them stronger. Gives them a reason to fight. And yet, standing here, watching her unravel before me, I felt something I couldn’t quite name.

Had I always felt it? Had I simply been too stubborn to acknowledge it? She never appealed to me before. I was never appealing to her. For Chaos’s sake… She saw me as that faker at this very moment!

…

It didn’t matter. Not now. What mattered was the girl in front of me and the question of whether or not it was too late to save her. If I played with fire, I’d come out a burned victim. She’d get hurt too, and I couldn’t allow that.

“Sonic…? Is that you? That is you right… Sonic?”

I noticed something I hadn’t before. A photo she had been clutching fell when she held my hands. Even in the dark, I could tell who it was. It should have been obvious, but even then, I was surprised.

The faker.

It wasn’t anything special, nothing grand. Just the blue fool smiling like a dense block, giving the camera a thumbs up like whatever he had been doing was a good deed. Knowing him, he had probably done some crazy stunt and barely survived it after something went wrong, only to claim whatever had gone wrong was part of the plan all along. That’s how he was; careless and any mistakes he had made, he managed to make it work in his favor.

But when I make mistakes? They go completely against me and hurt others!

Not this time.

Even if this turns out to be a mistake, I’ll make sure it’s one that won’t hurt Rose. She called me her soulmate after all, and who would I be if I cut the tether between us?

There’s something about soulmates that I had never put much thought into—something I neglected to acknowledge until now. When two separate tethers are cut, when two souls are left to rot, it is possible to take those frayed edges and knot them together, binding two who were never meant to be. Rose had lost her hero. I had lost my closest friend, Maria. A broken girl searching for something familiar, and me, a lone soldier searching for something worth protecting.

The balance of the world had shifted, and we had been left standing on opposite ends, reaching into the void where our pasts once resided. If we found each other here—if we clung to what little we had left—was that truly such a terrible thing?

Or am I just trying to justify myself?

Does it matter? Perhaps, but for now, tying our loose ends can be our solution. Temporarily.

She hadn’t gotten up at all from the ground. She remained kneeling on the floor, the world around us grew dark like a shadow. I’m that shadow. I’m Shadow the Hedgehog. The Ultimate Lifeform. The savior of this world.

Rose’s savior.

Help her. The voice returned for a moment.

For the first time since I entered this place, my vision and my thoughts were clear. I took a deep breath. I plastered on a smile and spoke the name he had used.

I was him.

“Yes, that’s me, Amy”.

A faker…

I reached down and offered her my hand, and she took it with both grace and greed, almost as if she didn’t know what to do if I –if he– had rejected her bouts and claims of “love”, of obsession, or devotion. Her touch was cold. Empty. Much like how it had been minutes prior when she called me her soulmate. Before, I pulled away. Now I will pull her close.

I lifted her off the ground, away from the cold floor, away from the photo of her hero she had clung to for who knows how long, and I held her. Without a moment of hesitation, I pulled her into my arms, securing her in an unyielding, unforgiving embrace, one that left no room for escape or question—not that she had any intention of slipping away. Her smaller frame trembled against me, her grip shifting between desperate tightness and weak uncertainty, as though she were afraid that if she let go, even for a second, I would disappear as he did. Her fingers curled into my quills, hesitant yet pleading, grounding herself in something real . I brushed down her quills in return and buried my face in her pink hair. She smelled like withering roses.

The weight of her sorrow pressed against me, silent yet deafening, and though I had spent years distancing myself from the pain of others, from attachment , I didn’t move. I didn’t push her away. 

For once, I understood, and as she clung to me as if I were all she had left in this world, I could only hold her tighter in return.

I was all she had left.

I stared at the photo of him for a moment. The other end of her thread. Of her “soulmate” that had been unexpectedly cut from her life. She had found my frayed tether, just as unraveled.

It seemed she had tied the loose ends, herself.

Chapter Text

(As usual, images were drawn by the amazing @asya7_771 !)

There were no stars that night, no sliver of moonlight to pierce the darkness. The sky was smothered by thick, rolling clouds, casting the world in an ink-black abyss. Rain had begun to fall nearly half an hour ago, a steady, rhythmic pattering against the windows, each droplet distorting the world outside into blurred shapes and streaks of water. It was like looking through a stained glass window, but instead of vibrant colors, the night bled only shadows and smudged reflections.
By the time I had settled Rose down to sleep, the room had grown only colder as if it were the middle of the autumn season. It wasn’t even half past eight—still early by most standards—but she had already curled up against me, seeking warmth and comfort. I had to help her to her room, her legs still weak from her collapse, but I didn’t mind and I believe she hadn’t either. Anything to help her. She was tucked safely beneath the plush covers, while I remained above them, a silent sentinel, a soft barrier between her and whatever unseen forces haunted her.
I watched her. Stared. I kept an eye on her while her eyes slowly drifted shut, her emerald glaze hidden behind her pink eyelids. But her sleeping did not bring me any peace or relief. Her breaths were so shallow, so quiet, that I found myself listening intently, my own breathing slowed to match hers. The rain provided a gentle, ceaseless rhythm, a lullaby that seemed to cradle her deeper into slumber. Yet, something about the way she lay so still, unmoving, barely even stirring, sent a chill crawling up my spine. It was unnatural.
More than once, I pressed two fingers lightly to her wrist, searching for the faint thrum of life beneath her skin; or her cheek, making sure she still held onto that warmth. I knew she was fine, of course, but the way she lay there, silent, motionless, as if she had been drained of all life, made something in my chest tighten. The way she was so still… It was like lying beside a corpse.
It unsettled me.
I turned on my back and stared at the ceiling, noticing how it had been painted with stars and roses, hand painted. Beautiful. She got to see these every night. Me, I was lucky to have seen them once. I hadn’t exactly agreed to stay the night with her. Not fully. Not in the way she might have thought.

The idea of sleeping in someone else’s home, in someone else’s bed, had never sat right with me, not even before everything that had happened. Now, it was even worse. There was something deeply unsettling about being in a space that wasn’t mine, surrounded by unfamiliar warmth or in this case, a chill I was starting to get used to, breathing in air that carried traces of someone else’s presence. It made me restless, but not uneasy. Yet despite it all, it felt like I didn’t belong. Because, in truth, I didn’t.

Maybe in her eyes, but not in her heart.

I wondered, briefly, if Rouge had noticed my absence. It was always a coin toss with her—either she was keenly aware of my whereabouts, or she barely registered that I was gone. There was rarely an in-between. It usually depended on whether she needed something from me, whether my skills or insight could be of use to her. If I was useful, she’d notice. If not, well… then I doubted she’d spare me a second thought. I knew she cared, though, even if she acted indifferent at times or even cocky. It’s why we work well together, but why I wouldn’t consider her a friend.

It didn’t matter.

There were far more pressing matters occupying my mind; like why I was still here. Why I hadn’t already turned away and left this place as soon as she was asleep? By all logic, I should have. It would have been easier—simpler—to slip into the night without a word, to return to the solitude I was so accustomed to and hope she’d wake up, thinking this all was a dream. And yet, I hadn’t.

My head remained planted on that pillow, my body unwilling to move. Every rational thought told me to go, to put distance between myself and Rosee. But for reasons I couldn’t quite grasp, I stayed.

And that unsettled me more than anything else.

Rose had begged me to stay. She had clung to me with desperation the moment I set her down in her room, her voice trembling as she pleaded for me to spend the night. I had told her, as gently as I could, that I would be back tomorrow, that we could talk more then, and that she wouldn’t be alone for long. But even as the words left my mouth, I wasn’t entirely sure if I meant them. If I would actually return or if I had hoped, deep down, that she would fight for me to stay.

She must have sensed it because the instant I started to turn away, I saw something shift in her—like a candle being snuffed out, the fragile light in her eyes flickering before vanishing entirely. A hollow, heartbreaking silence filled the space between us for only a second before she broke, sobbing so openly and violently that it sent a sharp pang through my chest.

Then she screamed his name. “ SONIC !!”

Raw, unfiltered grief poured out of her, ripping through the air with a force that made me freeze. Before I could react, she latched onto me, her entire body pressing against my arm, clinging with a strength I hadn’t expected. I had always known she was strong but this was a force greater than I had anticipated. Whenever she had hugged me in the past, although far and few in between, she was always gentle but firm. Her fingers dug into my sleeve, her nails pressing into my fur, as though she was afraid I’d slip away if she let go.
Her cries were muffled against my arm, but I could feel them—each shudder, each gasp for breath, the way her body trembled in pure agony.
“DON’T GO!!!”
Her screams could wake up a cemetery. Perhaps if she screamed loud enough, they could wake up the one she really wanted to cling to. Heh…
“I want to wake up tomorrow and see you still here. Please, just tonight…” She lifted her head. “Stay…” I could understand her fears.

She had spent hours making sure I—no, making sure he —was real. Her hands had trembled as they traced over my face and quills, lingering on every detail as if committing them to memory. She pressed her ear against my chest and fur, listening, waiting for the steady rhythm of my heartbeat, the proof she so desperately needed. And yet, despite all of that, despite the warmth of my skin and the undeniable presence of life beneath her fingertips, I knew doubt still gnawed at the edges of her mind.

Because what if it wasn’t real?

What if, after she closed her eyes after exhaustion finally won over the raw emotion in her system, she woke up to find that everything had been nothing more than a dream? A cruel, fleeting illusion conjured by her grief?

What if she woke up to a world that still didn’t have her hero?

…She’d be right.

Tomorrow would come, and she would wake up to the same cold reality she had been running from. We all would be. Her hero wasn’t here. And the day after that, and then the day after that . Day after day. He would never be there. Never again. His legacy? Sure. He saved the world multiple times after all. The stories people would tell would tell his name with honor. Of course, he would be treated as a fallen god, almost. His accomplishments, his victories, the impact he left behind? Those would always exist, lingering in the hearts of those who knew him well.

But what about the real him?

His voice, his reckless enthusiasm, his stupid, infuriatingly confident grin? The way he would light up at the thrill of a challenge, or laugh in the face of danger like it was all just a game? His ridiculous, bright ideas that somehow, against all odds, always worked out in the end?

Gone.

She would never see him again. Never hear his voice, never feel his warmth beside her, never experience those little moments that made him who he was. Things I could try to commit to, try to copy, but never fully be. The things that mattered most. The things that made him irreplaceable couldn’t be mimicked. And no matter how much she wanted it, no matter how much I looked like him, sounded like him, moved like him, acted like him—I never would be.

I couldn’t be the hedgehog she wanted. And in a way, I felt bad.

Not because I wanted to be him. I mean, who would ? Not because I wished I could take his place, but because, deep down, I knew there was nothing I could do to fill the hole he left behind.

But I can be better…

I will be better. I am better.

She shifted in her sleep, a first for the night and she wrapped herself tighter around the blanket I carefully tucked her in. I watched her with calm eyes as she curled her fingers around the soft quilt, deeply inhaled in my presence, and then exhaled her woes. I wonder what she’s dreaming about.

Perhaps she’s lost in a world of her own making, a world where she and that blue buffoon lived the life she always longed for. A world where he never vanished, where he never left her waiting, hoping, and eventually, breaking. In that dream, maybe he’s still by her side, still racing ahead but always turning back with that cocky grin, holding out his hand for her to follow.

Maybe she’s dreaming of their past—reliving those so-called adventures, those impossible battles where, against all odds, they triumphed time and time again. I can almost see it: her hand in his as they soared through the sky, dashing across cities and landscapes, fighting threats from this world and beyond. The wind rushing past, the thrill of the fight, the unshakable certainty that, no matter what, they would always win.

But the world isn’t like that anymore.

It doesn’t need saving the way it once did. The chaos, the constant cycle of destruction and redemption, the villains who rose only to be knocked down—it’s all gone now. There’s a peace she’s yet to accept, a world I made for people like her, where she doesn’t have to fight, where she doesn’t have to chase after someone who was never going to slow down for her in the first place.

I cleansed this world for people like Rose. I wonder… when she wakes, will she realize that? Or will she still cling to the past, to the ghosts of what could have been?

Maybe she had stopped dreaming, much like how I had in a sense. I don’t sleep, I was created to never need rest, and the “lack of sleep” never affected my mental state or performance. Just another reason why I am the Ultimate Lifeform! Curiosity did get the better of me a handful of times. The few times I did give “sleeping” a try, every time I closed my eyes, I saw something. It was always the same thing, the same, horrific dream. I saw nothing but the events that unfolded on that day on the ARK. After about the 4th time I’d wake up panting, calling out Maria’s name, I figured that sleep was never meant for me. Never meant for broken people like me…

Maybe she dreams of that day, the day the demon arose and burned our home, burned her reality. If so, what a terrible thing to experience every single night.

I looked at Rose. Maybe she dreamt of me . Shadow?

…

What a ridiculous thought . 

I brushed some of her quills out of her face, now framing her lidded eyes. She looked so peaceful and so content. She deserved some peace after tonight, and so did I. Peace was so rare nowadays, real peace. Not the quiet that this world had become and grew used to. Not the quiet I subjected this world to become and accept. Silence.

Something about silence; it’s so fragile that even saying its name can break it.

KNOCK! KNOCK !

A sound echoed in my ear, and although it might have been faint, my hearing made it as loud as the thunder roaring outside.

Was that what I thought it was?

Who on earth could it be-...? Who would come out during rain like this?

…Was it…

Him?

…

…

...

“Hey, Amy, are you home? It’s me, Tails.”

The fox.

I remained glued to the bed for a long moment, weighing my choices. The easiest option was to stay put, to remain silent and unmoving, pretending that no one was home. If I did, maybe he’d take the hint and leave. Maybe he’d turn away, deciding that this visit wasn’t worth disturbing the fragile peace of the night. After all, the door was locked—I had made sure of that when I helped Rose settle down. There was no way he could just waltz in without effort.

But would he try anyway?

Would he knock again? Call out her name? Find another entrance? Would he force his way in if he thought something was wrong? I wouldn’t put it past him. I would have done the same. He was stubborn like that, and if he was here now , of all times, he must have had a reason.

Another idea. I could go and tell him to leave. It would be simple enough. A firm word, a cold glare, and he’d know better than to argue with me. Let her sleep. Let her have this one night to rest, to exist without expectation, without anyone dragging her into another conversation, another cycle of questions and concerns she wasn’t ready for.

But was that fair?

The fox wasn’t the type to show up unannounced without purpose. He rarely left his lab, let alone his home, unless something important pulled him away. The few times he did, it was always for them —for his so-called family, his friends, the people he devoted himself to. And it wasn’t terribly late. He had likely spent his entire day making his rounds, checking in on everyone else before finally making his way here.

If that was the case, then he wasn’t going to leave so easily. Not without answers.

And unfortunately for both of us, I wasn’t in the mood to give them.

I sighed and slowly, carefully got up from Rose’s bed, making sure she didn’t wake or even stir from my movements. I was quiet when moving across her room, thankful her floorboards didn’t creak under my weight. Opening her bedroom door and closing it, I was careful, but I did not shut it all the way, in case she woke up.

I made my way through her fading house, eyes locked on the front. I ignored the empty walls and dying flowers until I was standing before the door, and listened carefully from the other side of her gate. Was he still there? Yes. I could sense him.

“Amy?” Another two knocks. “I’m coming in-”

I opened the door before his hand touched the doorknob, not even trying to appear friendly, but I was calm. The rain outside had lightened up a bit, but it still showed no signs of stopping.

“Sh-Shadow!” He jumped back a bit, clearly not expecting me. He had an umbrella open, but he also wore a poncho, shielding him from any stray drops that might slip past. The look on the fox’s face when he met my eyes would have many snicker in amusement, I had to assume. He fidgeted his fingers, uncomfortable and trying to find words. I took this moment to look over the faker’s closest friend. His eyes looked tired, his stance was not as sharp as it used to be. He looked older than he was.

I nearly felt bad for him.

He finally found his voice even though it had only been a minute. “What are you doing in Amy’s house? Where is Amy?” He peered over my shoulder as if expecting her to manifest behind me.

I was quick to respond. “She’s sleeping in her room. Safe.” He didn’t say anything, only squinting a little as if trying to read my face, detecting any lies that weren’t there. He could walk in right now and see for himself if he wanted. I don’t lie, and he knew that about me. I was honest, almost brutally. I grimaced the slightest, my patience wearing thin already. “What do you want?”

He scrambled a bit, “I just want to check on Amy and make sure she was okay. We… we were going to have dinner with Cream and Vanilla to honor Sonic. I spent weeks trying to convince her that it would do her good but she never showed up and we all got worried!”

I scanned him for a minute, making sure he was being honest now and didn’t come up with some quick lie, but I couldn’t see any shake in his stare, and his story did sound like something he’d do. Lying wasn’t something he’d do. I sighed and let my guard down a little. “You should come inside.”

“Wh- Is she okay?!”

Clutching my fists and clenching my teeth, I turned sharply. “I JUST said she was sleeping. So keep quiet or you’ll wake her!” I hissed softly, but I had venom lacing my tone just enough to keep his own down. In reality, I didn’t want to go through the hassle of putting her down again if she did wake up, and I just didn’t think it was fair of him to stand in the rain if we were going to have a conversation.

Instead of leading him directly to her, I led the fox to the kitchen, turning on the light and watching him observe the state of the kitchen. The exact same concern flashed across his face when I first entered, he had the same look and dread at the perfect state of everything. I even saw him eye the unused oven that Rose used daily. Truth be told, I didn’t want to be in the kitchen any more than he did, but it was the best place to talk. It was far enough away where a conversation wouldn’t awaken her, but close enough so if Amy called for “me”, even a mumbled whisper, I would be there in a second and calm her back to sleep.

After the yellow fox took in his surroundings, he sat down and asked me exactly what I was doing here.

“I hope you don’t take this the wrong way, but I never took you as someone who would tuck someone in and help them sleep. Let alone someone like Amy, no offense to her or you. I mean, I don’t think I’ve ever even seen you visit Amy once ever since everything went down. Why now? What changed? Did Rouge say something about her?”

Leaning against Rose’s refrigerator, arms crossed, I stared at the floor for a moment, the tiles so polished, that I could see myself despite knowing they should be filled with footsteps and patches of flour. His question lingered in my brain, but I couldn’t find it in me to say anything right now. I had to answer quickly before he thought something was really wrong. It would be easy to explain. How Rose believes that I am their lost friend. “Nothing’s changed.” Liar. She’s changed . But has she really ? “I just never found the time but I came by and she’s fine.” LIAR!

“Oh… Good. I don't want to wake her if she’s sleeping but… Can I ask you something?” I stared at him, silent, signaling him to keep going. He nodded once. “Thanks. I just really want to know why now? I mean, you had plenty of chances to see her even if it’s for just a few minutes, I know you’re not busy 24/7, no one is. You don’t like me very much, I know and I don't mind that you don’t, but you still make time to see if I’m okay. But Amy, she makes more of an effort to reach out to you and she’s one of the few people that you actually seem to be okay with.” So he noticed ? Maybe he’s not as stupid as I thought . “It’s been two whole years. You had well over 600 days to see her. So why today ?”

I blinked slowly, my grip tightening around my arm as if that could somehow anchor me. I closed my eyes, deliberately avoiding his gaze, unwilling to meet the quiet intensity behind it. His emphasis on today lodged itself deep into my mind, sharp and unshakable. I take it back. For all his brilliance, for all his supposed genius, the fox could be incredibly dense at times.

“You know why…” I muttered, my voice quieter than I intended.

I forced myself to look at him again, waiting for a reaction. He didn’t seem satisfied. His expression remained expectant as if he had been hoping for something more—something profound, something different, something special . But there was no special answer to give. The truth was the truth, and I wouldn’t twist my words just to comfort him. My reasons were the same as anyone else’s would be.

The silence between us stretched, heavy and suffocating. Oh, how the silence hurts.

The rain outside never spoke softer, as if it too had grown wary of breaking the tension between us. It had always been a constant presence, a quiet hum in the background of my thoughts, yet now it seemed distant—muted. I never minded silence before, never felt the weight of it pressing down on me like this. But now, at this moment, it was all I could hear. It filled every empty space, every unspoken word hanging between us.

It reminded me too much of the past.

Whenever I visited the fox, there was always silence first—an unbearable pause before he inevitably launched into his usual tirade of dead ends, theories, and the same tired mantra of never giving up on him . Over and over, the same cycle. The same hope, the same frustration, the same refusal to let go. I always found it annoying, but now I understand him. Understand that he also found unease in the silence.

Maybe if I spoke first, things wouldn’t feel so… heavy. I exhaled slowly, bracing myself for whatever answer would come. For once, instead of waiting, instead of dreading the inevitable, I asked.

“Any updates on what happened to him?”

The fox visibly stiffened. His eyes widened slightly, caught off guard by the question. He hadn’t expected me to ask . I never asked. He was usually the one to tell me. I could see him looking through his mind, shifting through whatever it was he was doing, trying to find the correct words.

“Well… No.” He sounded more exhausted than frustrated and he began to tap his fingers against the table. “I hypothesized that Sonic may have fallen through a spatial-temporal rift, one that extended beyond the known parameters of our universe. The creature had demonstrated the ability to generate interdimensional gateways, breaching the fabric of space-time itself. Months ago, Blaze informed me that she had caught a glimpse of her own dimension through one of these anomalies—one she hadn't created herself.

“This observation led me to consider the possibility that when Sonic made contact with the entity's core, he may have been displaced rather than destroyed. If the energy output of the core was sufficient to destabilize local reality, then it’s plausible that he was forcibly ejected into a different point in space, or even a completely separate timeline. However, the nature of interdimensional and temporal mechanics presents a paradox: while dimensions and timelines share structural similarities, their fundamental rules of existence remain distinct.” 

His words began to spill out. “The question isn’t just where he could have ended up—but when . Silver went through so many timelines, but Sonic was nowhere to be found. Blaze had gone through her entire dimension, even traveled through countless, different ones!” His voice was getting louder. “But there’s nothing! No trace! She looked through hundreds ! Maybe even thousands of worlds and dimensions! She never rested, Silver never rested! We found zero life! Do you understand that? Zero life! In every world, at every point in time, without Sonic, everything falls! Everything dies!”

For once, I paid attention to him and his words. I paid attention to… … Tails ? Nope. Not calling him that.

To Miles. 

That felt better.

I searched for the right words, but articulation had never been my strength. Conversations, especially ones that required tact or reassurance, always eluded me. Comfort was a foreign concept—something I had never truly known outside of Rose, let alone learned how to offer.

Should I have asked in the first place? Maybe not. Maybe it would have been better to let the moment pass unchallenged. But the silence was suffocating, pressing down on both of us. I could see it weighing on him, fracturing his composure bit by bit. And though I wasn’t sure why , I found it unsettling.

So, even if my words failed, even if they didn’t help, I had to break the silence. “You tried.”

Miles’s eyes shot up from the table.

“What?”

“You tried. Sometimes we think that’s not enough, that we could have done more, but it’s all you can do. Trust me, I know what it’s like going over the ‘what-ifs’. It won't do you any favors, but it will make you hate yourself the more you let it swallow you and dwell. You did what you could… He would have been happy you gave it your all. Proud even.”

Miles fought back tears. Angry tears. I could see it—the way his body tensed, the way his fingers curled slightly as if gripping onto something unseen, something slipping through his grasp. But he refused to let them fall. Instead, he dragged his hands over his entire face in a rough, almost desperate motion, as if he could physically wipe away the emotions threatening to break through.

His voice was steady when he finally spoke, but there was a strain beneath it, a quiet fracture just waiting to shatter. “Yeah… but I’m not done looking. Neither are Blaze nor Silver… He wouldn’t give up on any of us. We are going to find him.”

I stared at him for a moment, absorbing his words, the sheer weight of his conviction. How odd … After two years, he still hadn’t moved past the stage of denial. Two years of dead ends. Two years of unanswered questions, of fruitless searching, of theories that led nowhere. Yet still, he clung to this idea—this certainty —that the blue hedgehog wasn’t truly gone.

Perhaps his grief ran even deeper than Rose’s.

Rose had lost the one she believed to be her soulmate, the one she had spent her whole life chasing, loving, and dreaming of. But the fox… Miles had lost something far more profound. He had lost a brother . A constant. The one who had been there for as long as he could remember, guiding him, challenging him, protecting him. Sonic had helped shape who he had become and had been the one unshakable presence in his life. And now that presence was gone, leaving behind a void that no amount of intelligence, no calculations, no frantic searching could fill.

I wondered if he even knew how deep that void had grown.

And then, almost unconsciously, my thoughts drifted back to Rose…

"May I ask you a question?"

The fox leaned back slightly, his ears twitching with hesitation. He seemed uncertain, wary even about what I could possibly question, but after a brief pause, he gave a slow nod.

I took a moment before speaking, choosing my words carefully before I revealed what I really knew. "When you visited Rose in the past… what was she like?"

His hands, which had been fidgeting against the wooden surface, stilled. He laced his fingers together as if grounding himself before answering. There was another pause, longer this time, before he exhaled. I knew he didn’t like standing in silence for long either…

"Well… usually when I visit, Amy was always acting… weird."

My brow lifted just slightly. " Weird ?" Well, that much I did know, but what I didn’t was what levels of weirdness he was referring to. 

He nodded, eyes detached, as if recalling something unpleasant. "She seemed… distant. Like she was living in a world where Sonic was still here—just off on another adventure, like always." He swallowed hard. "Whenever I visited her, she was always by the front door. Just sitting there. Waiting. Sometimes with chili dogs, sometimes with a ‘WELCOME BACK’ cake ready. She used to wait with flowers, I think from her garden, but after the first year, she stopped. Lately, she would just stand there, clutching a photo of him in one hand."

The words lingered in the air between us, thick with unspoken uncertainty. A photo of him. 

The rain began to ease a bit.

I lowered my gaze to the floor, my mind already painting the scene in painful detail. I could see her there—Rose, perched by the entrance of her home, eyes fixed on the door, waiting for the impossible. Day after day. Week after week. Two years of wasted time, of wasted hope, of standing at that door expecting it to swing open, for him to step inside, grin at her, tell her sorry for the wait, and give her the embrace she clearly craved from him.

But the door never opened. He never came.

And yet, she waited.

Until I came through that door.

The fox chuckled a bit. “Ya’know. I’m surprised you didn’t ask Rouge about her, I know she visits Amy often, at least 3 times a month. She’s really worried about her, we all are. I think she visited her last week, actually, or so Knuckles tells me. From what I know, she behaves the same whenever anyone visits.”

My spine stiffened, my quills sharpened. Rouge never mentioned any of this. None of the visits, none of the trips. A sickening feeling latched onto me as I made yet another realization; Rouge had lied to me. Continuously. She had told me she visited Amy once , and that was months ago, but never mentioned any other visits. And she never told me how Amy would stand by the door, she just told me how she would act like herself.

Why would she lie to me about this?

Why would she keep her visits hidden?

Did she know something others didn’t, something that caused her to stay quiet? It wasn’t like her to keep secrets from anyone. Be sneaky, sure, it’s one of her best qualities ( don’t tell her I said that ) but she cannot keep a secret for long, a week at best, but hiding something this big for months? Keeping secrets from me? She tells me everything, and I mean everything . The good, the bad, and the highly unnecessary. If she knew I was going to visit Rose, she could have warned me… She didn’t have to lie.

“I don't think she does much else other than wait by the door. She hardly moves. I don't think I’ve ever seen her sleep or take a break to eat. I’m actually surprised she’s asleep instead of waiting for him, right now… with you… in her house…” His tone started light-heartedly, but as soon as the realization settled in, I could see how the fox’s eyes shifted with distrust and suspicion. As if my presence was a bad omen of sorts.

My vision sharpened, narrowing in on nothing in particular as my mind raced and the silence that haunted us returned. A slow, simmering anger began to rise within me, creeping in like an ember ready to ignite. Why had Rouge kept this from me for so long? What reason could she possibly have had to withhold something this important?

If I had known earlier, if she had just told me, I would have visited Rose sooner. I would have done something . Anything. 

I clenched my fists, feeling the tension coil in my muscles. But before the frustration could take hold completely, I forced myself to inhale—a deep, steady breath meant to pull me back from the edge.

One problem at a time, Shadow. Right now, anger wouldn’t change anything. Rouge’s choices, her secrecy—that was a problem for later. The real issue at hand was Rose. She was what mattered. She was the priority.

My priority.

I exhaled and stood straight, gaining the fox’s attention.

I had spent years wrapped in silence, using it as armor, as a shield against the noise of the world. I built walls and doors to protect myself, never thinking someone would be standing on the other side. But this wasn’t my silence. This was his silence. The fox sat across from me, shoulders tense, eyes distant, searching for something to hold onto—something to steady him. He was waiting on the other side.

I could let it continue. I could let the moment pass, let the weight settle between us like an immovable force. But for once, I didn’t want to.

So I spoke.

I opened that door.

“There’s something you should know about Rose…”

Chapter Text

“ Mmh..mmm… Sonic… ?”

A quiet murmur broke the stillness of the room, fragile and drowsy, laced with the remnants of sleep. My ears twitched at the sound, my gaze softening against my will. Even in her half-conscious state, eyes still closed and breath slow with lingering dreams, she called for me— him . His name slipped past her lips as though expecting he would materialize beside her.

Maybe, to her, everything that happened last night was just a dream. A hazy memory that would fade with the morning light.

Maybe she’d wake up and see me instead.

“Rose?” The word left me softer than I intended, barely more than a whisper. Even I was surprised by the tenderness in my own voice. Lying back on her bed, I let my eyes drift to the ceiling, tracing the painted flowers and scattered stars she had carefully crafted. I noted the imperfections—the uneven strokes, the faint outlines of shapes that had once been erased and redrawn—little pieces of her left behind in the art. It was almost childish, yet deeply personal, a reflection of the warmth that she carried with her wherever she went.

But my gaze had fell back to her, to the pink hedgehog curled up in peaceful slumber beside me. The early sun filtering through her curtains cast a gentle glow over her face, highlighting the delicate rise and fall of her chest, and the way her fingers twitched slightly in her sleep. 

She had made a fuss when I returned to bed around midnight, shifting in discomfort, her body instinctively seeking out warmth. The fox had left her home shortly before, slipping out quietly after our talk. Though she hadn’t fully stirred, she must have sensed my absence in that moment of subconscious awareness.

She only settled again once I was back beside her. I was grateful she hadn’t woken. She deserved this—this quiet, uninterrupted rest.

And yet, even in dreams, she still called for him.

A part of me worried she’d still see him… If she was curious, which I knew she was, Rose would ask questions. Questions I don’t have answers for… Where had “I” been? What happened to “me”? How did “I” get back?

I reached out with deliberate slowness, hesitant yet unable to stop myself, and brushed the back of my knuckles against her cheek. Her skin was warm—soft in a way that made my breath hitch, a way that made me second-guess whether I should be doing this at all. But I couldn’t pull away. Not yet.

For now, I relished the tranquil moment. Even if it was just this once. One last time.

I waited, watching, holding still as though she were something fragile, something delicate enough to slip through my fingers if I moved too suddenly. The seconds stretched between us, quiet and unhurried, until she inhaled deeply, the rise and fall of her chest shifting as she leaned into my touch.

I stilled.

She was seeking warmth. Comfort. A part of me wished she sought me .

For a fleeting moment, I wondered if I had been wrong—if my assumptions about how this morning would unfold had been misguided.

On one hand, it would have made things easier. If she woke up startled, if she bolted upright and shrieked at me in horror, demanding an explanation, things could go back to normal. She’d probably gasp, scowl, and flail, questioning why I was in her room, on her bed, so close to her. She might reach for her hammer in reflex, swinging before even thinking, forcing me to dodge before I could get a word in.

And then, as always, I’d get frustrated. I’d tell her she was being ridiculous, she’d snap back, I’d grumble something under my breath, and we’d part ways—just like that. Simple. Predictable. But…

On the other hand —

Her eyes fluttered open, slow and drowsy, still caught between the remnants of sleep and the present moment. A notable sparkle glistened in those glassy emerald windows, a depth to them that caught me off guard. For a second, she simply stared, taking in my presence, her gaze studying me with an unreadable softness.

There was a pause—a rare, fleeting moment where neither of us moved, neither of us spoke. Just the quiet, the gentle rhythm of her breath mixing with mine. It was a moment of serenity, of clarity, as if something unspoken was passing between us, something delicate and uncertain.

And then I felt it.

An unfamiliar warmth rose in my chest, slow at first, then all at once, blooming into something I couldn’t name. Something rare. Something I wasn’t used to feeling.

Maybe, for once… she actually saw m—

“You stayed!!”

I barely had time to react before she lunged forward, the small space between us vanishing in an instant. Her arms wrapped tightly around my neck, locking me into an embrace I hadn’t prepared for. I stiffened at first, my instincts caught between surprise and something dangerously close to surrender. Her face buried into my quills, her grip unwavering, desperate—like she was afraid I’d disappear the moment she let go. And then, through the quiet, I felt it. The damp warmth of her tears soaked into my shoulder.

Her voice cracked on his name, her fingers tightening ever so slightly against me. The way she held on, the way she trembled, made something inside me ache in a way I didn’t understand. And yet, I wasn’t pulling away.

“You really are here, Sonic…”

…

… yeah .

I pulled her closer, holding her with a warmth that I hoped she could feel, though my own expression had faded into something blank. I wasn’t sure what I should be feeling—what I was allowed to feel. But this wasn’t about me. She needed this. My grip on her remained firm, solid, unshakable. A silent promise.

"I promised I’d stay, and I’m not going anywhere. Ever." The words came easily, effortlessly, as if they had always been meant for her. And maybe they were .

She was different. That’s something I’ve always known about Rose.

Others saw her as simple, predictable, easily swayed by infatuation and blind optimism. Her bubbly personality made others see less in her. Rose was a beacon of unwavering optimism, a force of nature wrapped in boundless energy and compassion. She carried warmth wherever she went, offering kindness without hesitation and love without conditions.

But I knew better. She was fierce in her convictions, steadfast in her beliefs, and carried a heart far stronger than anyone ever gave her credit for. She had passion , bravery , and honor —a kindness so relentless that it could bend even the coldest of souls. She believed in people, in second chances, in the idea that even the coldest of hearts could be warmed with enough patience and understanding. There was a sincerity in her that was rare—an open heart unafraid to feel, to care, to fight for those she cherished. To know Rose was to know the kind of light that refused to dim, no matter how dark the world became.

And yet… she was still a fool in love.

That, too, was something I had always known.

A fool who chased after dreams without thinking of the consequences, who gave her heart so freely, so recklessly, that I often wondered if she even realized how much danger she was putting herself in.

She needed protection.

From the world. From herself. From the parts of her heart that refused to see reason. 

"Oh, Sonic!"She pulled back just enough to cup my face between her hands, fingers gentle yet insistent, as if she needed to see me—to reassure herself that I was really here. I should’ve pulled away. I should’ve reminded her of boundaries, of lines that shouldn’t be crossed. 

But I didn’t. And then she looked at me, but not really looking at me.

How…? How could she see him ?

How could she look past me as if I were nothing but a phantom? A ghost, a mirage—some shadow of the faker she longed for? 

But then there it was; that unmistakable glow in her eyes, that unwavering belief that made my stomach twist. Then she smiled. Soft. Tender.

The kind of smile that could mend wounds I refused to acknowledge. "You have no idea how much this means to me..." Her voice was gentle, thick with emotion, with sincerity. 

And for the first time in a long time, I didn’t know how to respond.

I reached up, fingers curling around her smaller hand, and gently pressed her palm harder against my cheek. Her touch was warm, grounding—something real in a moment that felt too delicate to last. I held onto it, onto her, as if letting go would shatter whatever fragile understanding existed between us. My eyes fluttered shut, shutting out the world, shutting out everything except the quiet presence of the girl in front of me.

She was so close. Just inches away. Close enough that I could hear the soft hitch in her breath, close enough to feel the warmth radiating from her skin. It was a dangerous kind of closeness, one that left me suspended between longing and restraint, between what I wanted and what I knew I could never have. And yet, for this brief, fleeting moment, I allowed myself to be selfish.

I didn’t flinch when she called me by another name. I didn’t correct her. If this was the only way I could keep a piece of her to myself … Then maybe, just this once, I could let her believe in the illusion.

Rose…

A singular moment. It was fleeting, gone in the blink of an eye. I took a steady breath, meeting her gaze with a quiet sincerity. "You... mean more to me than you realize, Amy," I said, the words intended to reassure her, but somehow, they felt like a reminder to myself as well.

~~~

“TADA! Fifteen of your favorite spicy, supreme chili-cheese dogs! Made with extra chili, extra cheese, and extra love! Just the way you like them!”

With a twirl, Rose spun away from the counter with a lightness in her step, as if she were dancing to some rhythm only she could hear. The movement was fluid, almost effortless, her energy filling the room like a burst of sunshine. She set down the platter before me with a proud flourish, a wide grin on her face. Despite the teasing lilt in her voice, there was a certain warmth in her gesture, as if she was offering a part of herself along with the meal.

She’d practically insisted— no, forced me—to stay for lunch, and I wasn’t about to argue. How could I? I wouldn’t abandon her. I’d watched her prepare these chili dogs with such care, every movement purposeful, as if crafting them was some kind of ritual. It wasn’t about the food itself, but the love she poured into it.

It was no secret that Rose always went the extra mile for those she cared about, and today, that meant going all out for “me”. She had spent hours making the chili dogs, strawberry shortcake, fresh lemonade, and some apple fritters. If I were in his shoes, I’d gladly accept this kind of hospitality too—getting your favorite meal, made with such care, by someone who always made you feel like the most important person in the room. I’d cherish her …

The sight of the steaming platter, piled high with chili dogs, I’m sure brought her back memories of simpler times—back when she would serve this same meal to him, with a grin and a heart full of hope. I could tell that she’d spent quite a bit of time on them, something that made me wonder how long it had been since she made chili dogs for anyone. Or cooked for anyone, really. She rarely had the chance to make these meals now. The kitchen felt emptier than it used to, as if the heart of her home had dulled with time.

I realized then, it wasn’t just about feeding him. It was about feeding a memory, about offering something familiar in a world that often felt far too complicated. It had been a while since she had done anything like this—not for herself, not for anyone else. But for him.

My eyes were locked on the pile before me, unable to look away. It was... massive. A towering mountain of chili dogs, stacked high with a heaping amount of chili and cheese spilling over the edges. My mind raced with the thought: How could anyone eat this many chili dogs? The sheer amount was staggering. How could anyone even think of consuming such an obscene amount of food in one sitting? How could he have eaten so many of them without immediately regretting it?

I’d heard stories, of course. Constant tellings about how the faker had an almost unhealthy obsession with these things, devouring them like there was no tomorrow. But this much? This was beyond anything I had ever imagined. It looked more like a mess than a meal. Was it because of his high metabolism? Was this his idea of a quick, easy fix—something to fuel his never-ending need for speed? Did his constant running and reckless lifestyle require an insane amount of calories? Maybe this was the quickest, heaviest meal he could scarf down between bursts of energy.

Pfft. I didn’t care . I didn’t care at all why he needed them, or why he liked them. The faker was just that— the faker.

Still, I couldn’t shake the disgust that was starting to settle in my stomach as I stared at the pile. The chili looked like something that had been pulled from the bottom of an old, rusted can—chunky, unappetizing, and thick in a way that made my nose wrinkle in distaste. It was the color of something that belonged in a pet bowl, not on a plate. The cheese—well, the cheese wasn’t any better. It had melted into a gooey, clumpy mess that slid down the sides of the hot dogs, making the whole thing look like some kind of tragic experiment gone wrong. Chunks had begun to spill out at the ends, the sheer amount of filling too much to stay contained. It looked less like food and more like... a disaster. No offense to Rose of course. If anything, I was insulting the faker’s favorite food.

How could anyone, anyone, look at this and find it appealing? How could anyone take one look at this atrocity and think, “Yeah, this is something worth eating”?

I mentally shook my head, my mouth twisting into an involuntary scowl. The longer I stared at the plate, the worse it seemed. I didn’t even realize my hesitation was so obvious. The scowl must have been more noticeable than I’d intended, and my reluctance to dive in was stretching on for far too long. But how could I not? How could I take a bite of something that looked like it had been pulled from the depths of a nightmare?

“What’s wrong, Sonic?”  Her voice sliced through my thoughts, cutting through the tension like a well-timed distraction. It was a welcome interruption, though it carried with it an unexpected weight. “Normally, you’d have finished them all in a minute flat! I made them just the way you like! I know it’s been a while since you’ve had a chili dog, or maybe since I made them for you. B-but I promise, they’re just as delicious!” Her smile remained, bright and eager, as she clasped her hands together, almost as if waiting for my approval.

I glanced over at her stance, and for a moment, I couldn’t help but notice how perky she was—just as I remembered her. She was standing tall, full of energy, her enthusiasm practically radiating off her. Was she always like this with him? Had he taken her for granted all this time, brushed off the care she poured into making him feel special?

I couldn’t help but wonder—how often did he truly thank her for these things? For the effort she put into each meal, each gesture, each part of her day dedicated to him?

But I didn’t answer her. I couldn’t find the words for a moment. The silence stretched between us longer than it should have. I could feel her gaze lingering, her hopeful expression starting to falter just slightly, as her smile lost a fraction of its brightness. Her eyebrows arched in confusion, and she began to pull back, her posture tightening as if she were doubting herself.

Her voice dropped, tinged with doubt. “Or maybe… maybe you don’t like chili dogs anymore? Or the way I make them! It’s been two years, after all. Or… or what if you doubt my cooking now? I know it’s been so long since I made them, but—oh goodness…What if you never liked how I made them?!”

She was rambling now, speaking the worries that were no doubt flooding her mind with no filter. I should’ve said something sooner, I realized. I could feel the weight of her words hanging in the air, each one heavier than the last. She was questioning herself, her cooking, wondering if she had somehow fallen short.

I hurt her feelings. My silence spoke volumes I never meant to share. I should’ve been better than this—better than him. I should’ve been more grateful, more attentive, but now I could see that I wasn’t.

Rose spun back around to face me with a suddenness that caught me off guard, startling me just enough that I almost jolted in my seat. “Don’t eat these! They’re probably terrible! The chili’s probably too spicy! I probably messed it up completely! I’ll make new ones! Better ones! I’ll—”

I quickly stood from my chair, unable to stand by and watch her spiral further. Reaching out, I gently but firmly grasped her wrist, stopping her in her tracks. “Wait. Don’t.”

She froze, her eyes widening slightly as she looked at me, and for a moment, I could see the fear in them—tears already gathering at the corners. Panic, worry—she was worried she’d upset me. Or worse, she was worried that she’d upset him .

I could feel her tense under my touch, her body trembling in response to something I couldn’t quite place. I loosened my grip on her wrist, sensing she wasn’t fighting against me anymore. Her breathing slowed just a bit, and she blinked rapidly, trying to hold back the tears. Slowly, I lifted my other hand, tracing it gently up her arm before resting it on her shoulder. It wasn’t much, but I could feel the tension in her body start to ease, her trembling gradually stopping.

She really was worried.

Worried that her actions, her care, her cooking had somehow failed. She was desperately trying to meet an impossible standard she set for herself, fearing that his disappointment in her was just a breath away. And it made me wonder— was his disappointment in her so clear? Was any silence from him enough to make her feel this way? Had it always been like this? That silence, that absence of words, had it always meant she was in trouble, that she wasn’t enough?

I’ll never make her doubt herself.

“I’ll eat them. It’s just been a while since I had one…” I said, trying to reassure her. My words came out softer than I intended, but I could tell she needed to hear them.

I helped her set the tray down carefully, making sure not to bump any of the chili dogs out of place. As I reached for one, I eyed the pile—each one more daunting than the last. But I wasn’t about to let her worry more. I picked up the one that seemed the least greasy, the one that didn’t immediately make me want to gag just by looking at it. It had the least amount of cheese spilling over the sides, and the chili didn’t look like it was about to drench the entire plate. I steadied my hand, holding it gently so I wouldn’t tip the others over, and then I brought the chili dog closer to my face.

I stared at it for a moment, taking in the colors of the chili, the cheese, the slight sheen of oil on the dog’s surface. Then, after what felt like a moment too long, I steeled myself and took a bite, not too big, but enough to get a sense of the flavor.

I chewed slowly, my hesitation clear but not so much that she’d see it. I wasn’t about to make her doubt herself or question my enjoyment, even if deep down, I wasn’t fully convinced I could get through it all. 

I must admit, it didn’t taste nearly as bad as I feared—though the smell had been off-putting, the actual flavor wasn’t a disaster. The texture of the beans and chopped veggies inside the chili wasn’t as bad as it looked. In fact, it wasn’t half bad at all. The chili itself was well-seasoned, robust, and despite everything I’d imagined, it didn’t leave a bad taste in my mouth. The longer I chewed, the more I could tell this wasn’t something pulled out of a can. This was all homemade, for sure. One taste and anyone would immediately say to themselves. ‘Hey! Rose had made it herself’.

Of course she did, I watched her from the table.

The cheese, though, was a different story. It didn’t really add anything to the experience that I found enjoyable, and I could’ve easily done without it. But, it wasn’t terrible. It was tolerable, at least for now. I kept chewing, slowly but steadily, until I could feel it go down. No need to force it. It wasn’t unpleasant enough to choke it down like I’d feared; it slid down with relative ease.

Not… bad.If I really wanted to, I could finish this whole chili dog. Heck, I could even have another, just to put her worries to rest, to make her believe I truly appreciated the effort she’d put into making them. But no, I wasn’t about to eat all fifteen of these things. That would be absurd. There was no way.

But for her… I would. I would finish at least one more, just to show her that her efforts hadn’t gone unnoticed. To make her believe it was worth it.

For her, I would.

“It tastes good, just like it always has. Don’t fret over your capabilities; you’re an amazing cook, Amy. Thank you for this.” I kept my voice steady, choosing my words carefully. I wanted to keep things casual, light, as if this was nothing unusual. I wanted her to feel the kind of confidence that the faker always gave his friends, that same reassurance that she wasn’t just capable but exceptional.

She stared at me for a long moment, as if trying to process what I had just said. Her eyes were wide, her lips slightly parted in a way that suggested she didn’t quite understand the meaning behind my words. Her gaze was distant, lost in thought—was it possible I had said something wrong? Had I worded it poorly? My stomach tightened slightly, unsure if I had made the right choice.

And then, suddenly, she gasped and flushed in embarrassment. “EEEE! Oh, Chaos! I’m sorry for overreacting!”

I stared at her. “Don’t apologize. I understand your need for perfection at times. It’s one of your most defined qualities.”

Her expression shifted, and I could see the uncertainty fade into something much more positive—relief, even. She let out a soft laugh, her eyes crinkling at the corners. “'Defined qualities’? Haha! Sonic, you’re so sweet! You’ve never said that to anyone I know!” Her voice carried an unexpected lightness, the kind that made me feel like I had said the exact right thing.

Her smile was small but bright, a radiant thing that almost seemed to make the entire room lighter. The worry that had weighed her down just moments ago seemed to evaporate in an instant, leaving behind a vulnerability I didn’t often see in her. It was in that brief, precious moment of peace, of clarity, that I truly cherished what I had just said, even if she had spoken another’s name. It didn’t matter. For that fleeting instant, I knew she was happy, even if just for a second.

“But I guess you’re right,” she continued, her voice gentler now. “I do tend to get caught up in making everything perfect. It’s just that… well, you know how I can be.”

Her eyes shimmered briefly as she gazed up at me, her expression melting into something softer, something almost fragile. In that moment, the weight of her earlier doubt seemed to lift, even if just a little. Despite everything—the uncertainty, the worry she carried so often—I could see the gratitude in her eyes. And that alone made it all worth it.

She turned away after a moment, her gaze drifting downward as if lost in thought, tracing patterns along the floor beneath us. I took the opportunity to finish the chili dog, chewing thoughtfully as she busied herself with something unseen. She was probably thinking about what to say next, about whether or not she had overreacted, about whether she had done enough.

As I swallowed the last bite, I glanced at the towering pile still left on the tray. There was no way I could eat all of them—not now, not later. They’d end up going to waste. Maybe I’d wrap them up and hand them off to the echidna; he had a taste for these things, though nowhere near the unhealthy obsession his friend had. He’d grumble about it, claim he didn’t care, but if I left them in front of him, they’d be gone within the hour.

Yeah. That sounded like a better plan than forcing myself to stomach more than I could handle.

Rose slipped off her oven mitts, setting them aside before reaching for a plate of her own. But rather than helping herself to a chili dog, she opted for something else—something sweeter. With careful precision, she cut a slice of the strawberry shortcake she made, the soft layers of sponge and cream stacking neatly as she lifted it onto her plate. The scent of fresh strawberries and vanilla wafted through the air, contrasting against the lingering spice of the chili dogs.

Instead of sitting beside me, she moved to her little kitchen island, settling into one of the stools with a quiet grace. She didn’t look my way, didn’t attempt to close the distance between us. The space between us felt wrong, an invisible wall that she didn’t dare to cross. How… disheartening. Given by how touchy she was, I suppose, she still held some doubt inside...

She poked at her cake with her fork, twirling it slightly before letting out a soft sigh. “I really missed you, Sonic…” she murmured, her voice carrying an unmistakable weight. “While you were gone, all I could think about when standing by that door was your eventual return. I kept picturing it over and over again in my head—how I’d present myself to you, how I’d welcome you back. I wanted it to be perfect.”

Her gaze dropped to her plate, shoulders sinking slightly. “I mean, I know so many people would be relieved to have you back—Tails, Knuckles, even Rouge in her own way. But I know not everyone would be so happy when they first see you. Not like me! … Some would be upset, mad even, that you’ve been away for so long.” She let out a hollow chuckle, shaking her head. “And I guess, somewhere along the way, I started doubting myself too... it's why I stopped... doing these things.”

She lifted a forkful of cake but hesitated before taking a bite. “I really believed that everything I make now is… mediocre. Like, something’s missing.” Her voice softened, the vulnerability seeping through her words. “I’ve tried to keep going, to keep doing what I love, but without you here, nothing felt quite the same. It’s like I’ve been stuck in place, just waiting for a reason to move forward again.”

…

She finally took a small bite of her shortcake, chewing slowly, deep in thought. And in that moment, I realized just how much she had been holding back, how much she had been waiting—for him. For the faker. For someone who wasn’t really me.

“I never realized just how empty and cold the world felt without you in it,” she admitted, her voice carrying a quiet ache. Her fingers toyed with the edge of her plate as she continued, her gaze distant. “I mean, no threats. No Eggman. No world-ending catastrophes.” She let out a laugh, but it was hollow—forced. “You’d think that would be a good thing, right? That we’d all finally get some peace? But it didn’t feel that way at all.”

She exhaled slowly, her shoulders rising and falling as if the weight of her words had been sitting on her chest for far too long. “There was no balance. No real highs or lows. Just… stillness. Good days never felt right, like something was missing, and deep down, everyone knew.” She hesitated then, gripping her fork a little tighter. When she finally spoke again, her voice was barely above a whisper. “I wish… I wish you had come back sooner, Sonic.”

A pang of something unfamiliar settled in my chest—something painful.

“…Me too, Amy.”

It would have made things a lot easier.

Chapter Text

Song for the Chapter

Two years. 

It had been two years.

A danger beyond my world, beyond my understanding, struck my home and raged with fires we couldn’t control.

It’s been two, long years since anyone had seen Sonic the Hedgehog.

Where had our hero gone? Was he even still alive?

Has his last threat also the last we’ve ever seen on him? 

Did he truly make the ultimate sacrifice as the hero of our world?

…

AS IF!!!

Trust me, I never thought I’d be bested by anyone or anything.

A hero always comes back. No matter how bad the odds are, no matter how impossible the fight seems—heroes don’t fall. They don’t break. They don’t lose. A hero has friends, loved ones, people who depend on them to stand tall, to return home in one piece. It’s a tough job—take down the bad guys, save the world, and do it all with a cocky grin like it’s just another day. But hey, someone’s gotta do it, right?

So... what happens when the hero doesn’t make it back?

What happens when the final chapter cuts off before the last page is written? Does the story end with silence? Does it fade into legend, left in the hands of historians who never truly knew me? Do my friends tell tales about me, their voices thick with grief, painting me as some young soul taken too soon? Do they stand over a grave, whispering my name like it’s something fragile?

Malarky!!!

That’s not how this ends.

I am the Sonic the Hedgehog.

I’m the fastest thing alive, Eggman’s worst nightmare, the biggest thorn in his side. I have raced against fate itself, stood against monsters that could swallow the world whole, and won. I have taken down gods older than time, faced destruction head-on without flinching. I’ve even beaten Knuckles in a one-on-one, and you know that guy doesn’t hold back.

So, what? I’m supposed to believe that some demon—some two-bit, second-rate villain—is the thing that finally does me in? After all I’ve been through, all I’ve survived, is this where my story stops?

Not a chance!!!

I refuse to let this be my ending because a hero always comes back. And I am the hero.

All I have to do is find a way out of here.

Simple, right? Find an opening, make a break for it—business as usual. The only problem? I usually had my friends to back me up. Someone to fly me out, smash through a wall, or whip up a last-minute plan. But they aren’t here. Not this time.

For the first time in a long time, I’m on my own… Kinda.

And yeah, I’d be lying if I said that didn’t bother me. There’s this nagging voice in the back of my head, whispering things I don’t want to hear. What if they’ve forgotten? What if they think I’m gone for good? That I’m never coming back?

No. No way. And not a chance.

They wouldn’t just move on, right? They wouldn’t give up. I haven’t given up! I’ve been fighting, clawing, and pushing forward every second I’ve been trapped here. I won’t stop, because I know—I know—that my best friends, my family, would never stop searching for me.

Tails, Amy, Knuckles... they’ve got to be out there, doing everything they can to get me home. And honestly? Who knows what kind of mess they’ve gotten into while I’ve been gone?!

Did the Deadly Six come back looking for revenge? It took everything we had to stop them the first couple of times. Did Metal Sonic go full Neo Mode again? Has someone—anyone—decided to wake up an ancient evil just for kicks? Or worse… has someone we once trusted turned evil? (If I had to put money on it, it’d be Espio. That guy is two bad days and an eviction notice away from going full super-ninja villain. Seriously, someone check on him.) But then another thought slams into me constantly, something that makes my stomach twist. 

Eggman .

The old egghead is still out there back home. Watching. Waiting for the perfect opportunity. And if he saw an opening— if he even thought for a second that I wasn’t coming back— then what’s stopping him from going after my friends? From taking over the islands? Stealing the chaos emeralds? The Master Emerald? From making them suffer just to spite me knowing I won’t be around the save them? The very idea makes my blood boil.

He’s done it before, risked my friends’ lives like they were some of his robot knick-knacks that he could tear apart and put back together again. He’s made his lackeys go after my closest.

If Eggman so much as lays a finger on any of my friends while I’m stuck here, I swear—he is going to pay.

I don’t care what it takes. I don’t care how impossible it seems. I have to get back. Because I’m Sonic the Hedgehog, and nothing—not demons, not monsters, not even time itself—is going to keep me from my friends.

Calm down, man…

Focus.

“Alright! Getting into spin dash position! Ready, Sonic? YOU KNOW I AM READY! Ha! I love talking to myself without anyone thinking I’ve lost my rings!”

…Which is kind of sad when I really think about it and say it out loud, but hey, gotta do something to keep sane, right? You spend enough time alone in a place like this, and you either start having full conversations with yourself or you start losing it. I’d like to think I’m keeping it together, but let’s be real—if I start answering myself in different voices, that’s when I’ll start worrying.

But I don’t have time to think about that. Not now. Not when I only have a few shots at getting out of here. Straight path. Cut through.

I have to break through. I will break through.

Tails used to go on these long, nerdy rants about this kind of thing—traveling through time, jumping across dimensions, hopping between alternate timelines. I’d listen for a bit, then zone out when he started getting into the math. But maybe I should’ve paid more attention because right now, I need to do the impossible.

See, space-time isn’t some unbreakable wall— it’s more like a stretched-out sheet. If you push on it hard enough, you can bend it; and if you push fast enough? You can tear right through it. At least, that’s what Tails says.

Apparently, the faster you go, the more you mess with time. Normal speed keeps you grounded in one timeline, but go beyond that—way beyond that—and you start affecting the way time flows. Speed past a certain limit, and BOOM! You’re not just moving through space—you’re slicing into it. Kinda like how a plane breaks the sound barrier, but on a cosmic level.

Now, the tricky part? You have to be fast enough to punch through without ripping yourself apart. Too slow, and you just bounce off reality like a bad spin dash. Too fast in the wrong way, and who knows? You could end up in a timeline where Eggman won, or where chili dogs don’t exist.

If I can cut through space-time, if I can tear through the fabric of reality just enough, maybe— just maybe —I can find the exact moment where everything went wrong or at least the present time back home.

So yeah, it’s a gamble. A really big gamble , and I’m not much of a spieler in situations like these, but if anyone can pull it off, it’s me, and I can’t wait to tell Tails I did it!

I mean, I have to.

I’ve already tried everything else. Smarts, strength, random skill— none of it has worked. And I know for a fact that whatever that demon thing was, it radiated power strong enough to rip holes through time itself. Blaze and Silver warned me about it before everything went sideways. Silver, especially, the guy knows a thing or two about broken timelines. If anyone could sense time-shattering apart at the seams, it was him.

So that means it’s possible. It’s real. He and Blaze did it all the time! Maybe not in the way I’m trying to do it, but it’s possible.

Which means there’s only one question left: Am I fast enough to do it the way Tails explained?

Faster than the laws of physics? Faster than time itself? Faster than anything has ever gone before? I’ve tried… a couple of times, but I know I could always go faster.

I grit my teeth, feeling my muscles coil, the energy in my legs building like a compressed spring. My quills bristle, crackling with anticipation. My heart pounds like a war drum, every fiber of my being screaming at me to run.

This is it.

No more doubts. No more second-guessing, and I’m about to prove that there’s nothing in the universe—even time—that can keep up with me.

Spinning. Spinning. RELEASE! Spin! Faster. Faster! FASTER!

I wasn’t so sure. I’m fast but…

COME ON! GO FASTER! I have to be FASTER!

Am I that fast?

“Wheep whoop?”

WOAH! WOAH!! WOAH!!!

I skidded to a stop so hard, that I practically launched myself 30 feet into the air—and let’s just say, gravity was not feeling merciful today. One rough crash later, and I was face-first in the dirt, doing an impromptu taste test of the local soil.

Not exactly a five-star meal.

Good thing hedgehogs are built tough, ‘cause that was not one of my best landings. But hey, I’ve taken worse. At least this time, I wasn’t crash-landing into lava, water, or—Chaos forbid—Eggman’s laundry pile. Now that would’ve been traumatizing.

“ Wheep whoop? ” I felt the tiny, rhythmic pitter-patter of jelly-like pads pressing against my quills. Not just one—several.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m okay, I’m alive, don’t worry,” I muttered, still tasting dirt. “Just a crash landing. Nothing like a good face-plant into solid ground to make you feel extra alive!” A few of the little creatures let out soft, warbling noises—like a mix between a squeak and a bubbly giggle. That got my attention.

I lifted my head and blinked at the handful of small… well… to be totally honest, I had no clue what they were. They were kinda like the Chao back home, but squishier? Their tiny, wiggly bodies had no real structure—at least, none I could see—because I could literally see through them. No bones, no innards, just an oddly mesmerizing, jelly-like texture that wobbled when they moved and floated about.

//Drawn by me, the author//

Remember when I said I was kinda alone? Well yeah… not exactly.

They stared at me with big, glowy eyes, their semi-transparent forms shifting like living blobs of water. One of them reached out and poked my nose, making a little “bloop” sound as its squishy body jiggled.  Not only were they weirdly adorable, but they were friendly, and considering my current situation, I could really use some friendly faces every now and then. 

I tried pushing myself up, but the second I shifted my weight, a sharp, burning sting shot through my thigh, forcing me to buckle down and kneel. “Jeez—” I hissed through clenched teeth, gripping my leg. “Looks like going beyond my top speed and stopping on a dime isn’t great for my legs. Who knew?”

The jelly creatures tilted their heads, their liquid-like bodies shifting as they chirped softly. One of them reached forward and patted my knee as if trying to comfort me.

“Wheep whoop?”

Oh yeah, another thing about these things, they don’t speak my language and I clearly don’t understand theirs. I mean, you’d think I’d have a shot, right? I can understand Chao just fine, and these little guys look like they could be some kind of distant, extra-stretchy cousins. But nope. Whatever language they’re speaking is totally lost on me—and vice versa.

Since I had no clue what to call them, I settled on “Wheep Whoops”—as dumb as it sounds—because that’s pretty much all they ever say.

If they’re happy? “WHEEP WHOOP!” If they’re sad? “WHEEP WHOOP!” If they’re arguing? Oh, you bet it’s still “WHEEP WHOOP!”

I don’t know how they understand each other, but somehow, they do. And the funny thing? It’s not even annoying. If anything, it’s actually kind of adorable. (And if you ever tell anyone I said that, I’ll deny it faster than I outrun a black hole! I have a reputation to maintain!)

Honestly, though, if Cream were here, she’d probably have figured them out in five minutes flat. She’s got that way with creatures, like some superpower. No doubt she’d befriend them instantly, and knowing her, she’d try to introduce them to Cheese and Chocola like they were long-lost siblings. I can already picture her running around, giggling, while these little guys bounce after her like happy blobs of jelly.

It took me a while to gain their trust. At first, they kept their distance, watching me with those big, glowing eyes, making their little “Wheep Whoop” sounds at each other like they were debating whether I was friend, foe, or something in between.

They were terrified of me when I first crash-landed here. Not that I blame them—if some weird, spiky, two-legged creature fell from the sky and face-planted into my backyard, I’d probably keep my distance too. It took a long time for them to warm up to me, but honestly? I’ve had bigger challenges. The real problem is… I still have no idea where “here” even is. 

This place looks sort of like Earth but also completely alien. The trees are purple, the sky is pink, and the water? Also pink. At least the grass is green—that’s familiar—but every time I look up, I see two moons. Two. It was weird at first, but now I kinda just roll with it. As for the sun? I think there’s a sun, but I wouldn’t put money on it being the sun. Either way, it rises, it sets, and it keeps things warm, so I just call it "the sun" and move on. But it also doesn't come without dangers, and I've fought and hurt myself too many times to count. Still, if it weren't for the things I've had to do to survive, I'd say this place is beautiful.

This place is incredible—and a total mystery. I’ve been writing down everything on giant leaves that work like paper. Filling up “page after page” with notes about the weird physics, the oddball creatures, and the strange way time seems to bend here. I never thought I’d be the type to keep a “journal”, but at this point, I’ve taken so many notes I’m starting to feel like Tails with one of his science projects. The thing is, I need these notes. If I ever figure out how I got here—or, more importantly, how to get home—this info might be the key. And if I ever do make it back, I’m taking all these notes with me. Maybe I’ll even let Tails take a look and see if he can make sense of all this. If anyone can crack the mystery, it’s him.

I’ll be real with you—I don’t remember much about the fight that got me here. I try, I really do, but it’s like my brain just refuses to fill in the blanks. There’s a wall in my memory, and no matter how fast I run, I can’t break through it. I’m confident that if I could just remember what happened, I’d have a way better shot at finding my way home rather than just speeding past time and space. 

I know I was fighting that creature—heading straight for its core. I remember Silver being there, saying something—something urgent. And then—nothing. Just a blank space.

And that’s the worst part. I can’t even remember what Silver said when we both went Super. Was he trying to warn me? Tell me to stop? Give me the key to stopping that thing? I don’t know. I don’t know, and it’s driving me crazy. If I could just reach back and grab that last piece of the puzzle, I might be able to figure out where it all went wrong. But for now, I’m stuck here, with nothing but my notes, my thoughts, and the occasional comforting “Wheep Whoop” from my new jelly friends.

But anyway…

The next thing I knew, I woke up flat on my back, in a me-shaped crater, surrounded by a bunch of weird, wiggly creatures staring at me like I was some kind of fallen alien deity.

Remember when I said I’ve had rough landings? Well, scratch that—this was the worst. Every inch of my body screamed in pain. My arms, my legs, my quills—everything felt like it had been stomped on by a herd of Extreme Gear racers going full speed. I couldn’t even move at first, couldn’t even ask for help. My lungs felt like they were full of fire, my head was pounding, and for the first time in a long time, I had the terrifying thought: What if I can’t get up?

Then, just when I thought I was stuck like that forever, something strange happened. My body suddenly felt… weightless. Like I was floating in space. The pain? Gone. Just a small, almost electric tingle crawling over my skin, like static clinging to my fur. It was weird, but not unpleasant. Then, just as quickly as it started, the sensation faded, and—BOOM! I felt completely normal. No pain, no soreness, no broken bones. I sat up—half expecting to collapse again—but nope. I was fine. More than fine. I was perfectly healed.

That’s when I noticed the little creatures were covered in golden sparkles. Some kind of shimmering dust drifted off their gooey bodies as they wriggled around me. I didn’t know what kind of alien magic healing powers they had, but they completely fixed me up! My body felt like new, and just to test it, I took off running in a quick loop, pushing my legs, stretching, jumping, spinning—all systems green. Whatever they did, it worked like a charm! These little guys were seriously amazing!

Of course, when I tried to thank them, they reacted like I had just threatened their entire species. The moment I spoke, they scattered like scared bunnies, disappearing behind the weird purple trees and peeking out with their glowing little eyes. Getting them to talk to me—or at least, “Wheep Whoop” at me—was a whole other challenge. 

They only started trusting me after I saved them from a slimy, sludge-like monster that had a habit of destroying their homes and villages. The slime the slug made seemed to melt the jelly they built their homes with. It was nothing for me—just a few punches, a kick, and a satisfying splat, and that thing was sliding away like a slug on a mission! The Wheep Whoops? 

Turns out, the key to earning their trust? Letting them poke me after I take names and kick slug butt. No, really.

The boldest one waddled up, poked me in the nose, and when I didn’t immediately explode or attack them , they all just dogpiled me. A whole bunch of wiggly, translucent jelly creatures clinging to my arms, my legs, even my quills—poking, patting, squishing, and making all sorts of excited “Wheep Whoop!” noises like I had just passed some sort of sacred test, and just like that, I guess I was part of the pack.

They went completely nuts. They cheered in their little “Wheep Whoop” way, surrounded me, and hugged me from all sides like I was some kind of legendary warrior. But hey, no big deal—I mean, they did fix me up first, after all, and I hate bullies!

Ever since then, they have allowed me to stay with them. They gave me a place to sleep and edible food I could eat. The food here is actually pretty good even if it’s limited. Best way I could describe them would be weird-looking fruit that I wasn’t so sure was safe at first, but once you get past the outer, spiky layers, the inside of most fruits are sweet, juicy and actually restore my energy. It wasn’t chili dogs, and trust me, I’d give my right leg for one right now, but at least I wasn’t starving which is a huge worry for most people that would be in my position.

Even though we don’t speak the same language, we’ve figured out our own way of communicating—at least, enough to get by. Facial expressions, body language, gestures, even different tones of sound. It’s not a perfect system, but it works for us. It’s how I’ve managed to survive here without being completely lost. If I didn’t have these little guys around, I don’t know how I would’ve handled being stranded in this weird, pastel-colored world for so long.

Anyway…

I let out a breath, shaking off the shock from my crash landing. “Yeah, I’m okay… just a little leg pain.” I tried standing again, testing the weight on my injured thigh, but the sting was still there, sharp and persistent. Guess even hedgehog durability has its limits at times. So much for being indestructible.

The Wheep Whoops—who had been watching me intently—seemed to understand immediately. Without hesitation, a few of them wiggled closer, their gelatinous little bodies bouncing as they reached toward my leg. Then, like clockwork, they did their sparkle magic thing. Little glimmers of golden light swirled around the aching muscle, and within seconds, the pain melted away completely.

I flexed my leg, hopping once, twice. Not even a twinge. “Good as new! Thanks again, guys. Seriously, I owe you a lot.” I shot them a grin, winking as I gave a thumbs-up—something they had come to recognize as my way of saying “You guys rock.”

Immediately, they responded in their usual adorable way—letting out their signature little cheers. “Wheep Whoop! Wheep Whoop!” Their jiggly forms bounced excitedly, glowing faintly under the pink sky. Okay, yeah, I’ll admit it —they’re cute. AGAIN! Don’t you dare tell anyone I said that! I’ve got a reputation to maintain!

Stretching my arms above my head, I took a glance at their round, blinking eyes and smirked. “So, did something happen in your little village?” I crossed my arms, tilting my head as I looked at them expectantly. “Need me to kick some more sludge monster butt? Or maybe that giant worm’s back and eating your homes again? Oh! Or is that massive windbird causing trouble?”

They blinked at me. No immediate reaction. That probably meant no.

I sighed dramatically, planting my hands on my hips. “So what you’re telling me is— no monsters? No action? No high-speed chase? No dramatic showdown between good and evil?”

They wiggled among themselves, making little “Wheep Whoop?” noises, like they were trying to decipher what I was saying.

I flopped backward onto the grass, groaning loudly. “Man, things have been way too quiet around here! I mean, I guess that’s good for you guys, but a hedgehog needs excitement! I need action! I need something to keep me on my toes!”

They huddled closer, curiously tilting their translucent heads. A few poked at my arms and legs, seemingly entertained by my exaggerated reaction. One even bounced onto my stomach like it was testing to see if I’d move. I cracked an eye open, smirking. “What? You guys gonna start a fight just to keep me entertained?”

They all froze. Then, suddenly, a chorus of high-pitched “Wheep Whoops!” exploded around me, followed by absolute chaos and cuddles.

“HEY!” I chuckled, I couldn’t help it! They were trying to cheer me up. “Thanks guys, but I could never fight you all!

Instead of the usual sounds of resistance, I was suddenly surrounded by a bunch of little creatures carrying something that looked like… well, a cake. Or at least, it was trying to be one. The base was made from that weird, squishy fruit they seemed to love, topped with odd little decorations I couldn’t quite identify. Whatever it was, it sure didn’t look like something I’d want to eat, but hey, it was the thought that counted, right?

I couldn’t help but laugh softly as one of them carefully placed it in front of me. “ Gee, you guys remembered my birthday or something?” I asked with a grin, trying to keep the mood light. But I knew it wasn’t my birthday—not by a long shot. Still, to them, it might as well have been. They’d clearly put in the effort, so maybe this was their way of showing appreciation.

But then it hit me… It’s been two years since I’ve seen anyone from home.

Two years.

I felt my stomach tighten, and for a second, I couldn’t keep up the smile. It slipped just a little, almost imperceptible, but I could feel it. The edges of my mouth drooped as I tried to hold it together. I tried to focus on the little creatures, on the cake they’d made with so much care, but my thoughts were elsewhere. My mind was pulled back to the friends I missed—the ones who had always been there for me, through thick and thin.

They’re all out there somewhere, living their lives without me, probably wondering where I am, what happened to me… I miss them so much.

I picked up the dish, holding it in my hands, but it felt heavy in my grip. My friends… they used to make me dishes like this all the time. Whenever I felt down, or whenever we celebrated something big—a world-ending catastrophe, a narrow escape, or just surviving another of Eggman’s evil schemes. And those mini-celebrations? Yeah, we always threw them. No matter how big or small the victory, we’d throw a party or have a quick get-together, because we were family.

Well, mostly for me, if we’re being honest.

It was my friends’ way of showing they cared and appreciated me and our teamwork. Knuckles would grumble about how unnecessary it was but I’d always see him celebrate anyway. Tails would get all excited about the cake and the decorations. Rouge would probably sneak a few extra slices of pie and always hang around Knuckles. Blaze would always have a drink in her hand—something strong (lemonade with extra lemon).

Amy? She’d be the one making sure everyone was really having a good time, organizing the whole thing. She’d be the one to give me that smile that always made my heart skip a beat, no matter how chaotic everything got. Even picturing it now?

Wow…

Yeah.

Those were the days… days filled with laughter, filled with family. I missed them all.

I let out a small sigh, the weight of those two years sinking in. The little cake thing, despite being a mix of strange and unrecognizable ingredients, suddenly seemed a lot heavier than before. I glanced up at the little Wheep Whoops, their faces full of curiosity and joy, but it was hard to keep pretending everything was okay.

Still, I smiled again—this time more genuine, though tinged with a little sadness. “Thanks, guys. I really appreciate this. You’re the best.”

They cheered and bounced around me, clearly happy that I was happy. But as I looked at them, I couldn’t shake the feeling that no amount of cake—or weird alien fruit cake—could ever fill the hole that had been left behind by the people I truly cared about.

Cliche? Well yeah, of course! Amy used to say stuff like that all of the time and it seems so real now.

Amy…

Amy…

She had this amazing way of making me feel like a real hero when I lost faith in myself, you know? It wasn’t just about the grand gestures or the big moments—it was the little things. The way she’d always go out of her way to make my day a little brighter, a little better, just by being there. I never had to ask, she just was . 

She was the kind of friend who could bring a smile to my face even on the worst days. She always seemed to know what I needed, whether it was a fresh batch of chili dogs made exactly the way I liked, or just someone to stand by me when things got rough. No matter what was going on, she was there.

Whenever the city was under attack, I could always count on Amy to be right there beside me. She wasn’t the type to sit on the sidelines. If there was a fight, she was in it with me. And when I was hurt—really hurt—she’d be there, tending to me, making sure I didn’t feel alone. She was always more than just a friend; she was my biggest supporter, my loudest cheerleader, my best girl.

But more than anything else, Amy gave me something priceless: hope . When everything felt like it was falling apart, when the world seemed dark and cold, she was the one who reminded me that maybe there was a way forward. She was the light at the end of the tunnel, the first bloom in a garden that had been barren for too long. Even on my worst days, she was the reason I kept going, the reason I never gave up.

I’ll admit, I probably haven’t always shown her just how much she means to me. Sometimes I get caught up in the chaos, in everything that’s going on around us, and I forget to remind her how much I appreciate her. Sure, she can be a little clingy at times, especially after we’ve had one of those big, explosive fights. It’s like she’s scared I’m going to disappear, like she has to hold onto me tighter to make sure I’m real. Ha! But deep down, I know it’s just because she cares… and I…

I lov-

…I love that about her.

But right now, all I can think about is how she is holding up. How is she dealing with all of this? I just hope she knows how much I miss her.

Miss all of them. I wonder how they all are handling things without me.

I know Tails is probably working himself to exhaustion trying to figure out what happened. If there’s one thing I’m certain of, it’s that he would never— never —accept that I’m just gone. He’s stubborn like that, always refusing to believe in impossible outcomes. If there’s even a fraction of a chance that I’m alive, he’s chasing it down with every bit of brainpower he’s got. And he’s got plenty of brainpower to spare! He’s probably tearing through every data file, blueprint, energy reading, and whatever smart guy stuff he can get his hands on, running calculations, double-checking every last lead, hoping to find something— anything —that’ll point him in my direction. If anyone can track me down, it’s him.

He’s my brother, and I’d do the same for him.

Silver, on the other hand, is probably just as lost as I am. He was there, right in the thick of it, trying to stop that demon before everything went sideways. I still don’t get how we ended up in different places—if he even made it out at all. Maybe he’s back in his own time, trying to piece things together, just as confused and frustrated as I am. Maybe he’s checking in on everyone every couple of weeks. Knowing him, he’s probably blaming himself for not stopping this sooner, for not being able to predict whatever the heck went wrong. But that’s the thing about Silver—he always shoulders more guilt than he should, like it’s his job to carry the weight of the world.

Poor guy… Hope he know’s it’s not his fault/

As for Knuckles? He’s probably doing what he always does—hiding away on Angel Island, pretending like none of this affects him. Or fighting anything to release that pent-up hurt. That’s just how he copes. He doesn’t like dealing with things he can’t punch, and if my disappearance doesn’t come with something he can physically beat into the ground, he’s likely keeping to himself, avoiding everyone, just guarding the Master Emerald like always. That’s his comfort zone. But I’d bet anything that deep down, he does care—he just doesn’t know what to do about it.

Hang in there, bud. We’ll go out for chili dogs when I’m back.

The Chaotix? Oh, man, I can only imagine how many dead ends they’ve hit by now. Those guys are great at what they do, but this? This isn’t exactly their usual missing person case. They’ve probably chased lead after lead, only to come up empty-handed, and knowing Vector, he’s probably losing his mind over it. Espio is keeping things professional, trying to stay focused, but I know this has to be frustrating even for him. Charmy, well… I don’t even want to think about how he’s handling it. But like Tails, they would never throw in the towel.

They’re going to get the pay of their life when I’m back.

Rouge is likely just trying to keep things feeling normal, or at least acting like she is. That’s how she deals with stuff like this—she keeps up the routine, the cool and confident act, even if she’s worried deep down. But I bet she’s keeping tabs on everyone, watching from a distance, making sure they don’t fall apart. She’s good at that.

She acts all sassy, but she cares just as much as the rest of us.

And then there’s Shadow…

Woo. Shadow.

If anyone found even the tiniest bit of relief in my disappearance, it has to be him, right? No more “annoying blue hedgehog” to deal with, no more rival constantly pushing his buttons. And yet… a part of me really hopes that’s not the case. Shadow acts like he doesn’t care, like none of this affects him, but I know him better than that. We’ve been through too much. He’s saved me before, even when he didn’t have to. Maybe not when we first met, but hey! Over time, he’s proven it again and again—he doesn’t just stand by when something happens to me. He might not say it outright, but I know he cares.

At least… I hope he does .

But the one I can’t stop thinking about is her…

I can’t stop worrying about how Amy’s doing. 

Is she okay? Or is she heartbroken? 

I can picture her crying for days, maybe even weeks, while Rouge stays by her side, comforting her the best she can. That thought alone twists something in my chest. It’s been two years. 

And the worst part? I have no idea what’s happening on their end. No way of knowing how much pain my friends have been through, how much they’ve struggled, or if they’ve managed to move forward without me.

You never really know what you have until it’s gone, huh? Funny enough, Rouge was always the one telling us that. People say it all the time when they lose something important, but you don’t really understand it until it happens to you. I mean, sure, I’ve lost allies in battle before. I’ve lost keepsakes, memories, and things that mattered to me at the moment. But losing someone who’s a part of your everyday life? Someone you counted on always being there? That’s a whole different kind of loss. 

And this time, it’s not just me feeling it. My friends… my poor friends. And Amy… my Amy.

I hope she’s doing better now. I really do. 

At least better than she probably was during the first few months. Maybe by now, she’s back to being the same old Amy—strong, stubborn, full of energy, and picking up my slack. She’s always been resilient. She’d never let something like this break her.

And when I do come back— because I will come back, I won’t stop fighting until I do —she’s going to be the happiest of them all! Maybe apart from Knuckles... or Tails... or even Egghead! She’ll probably scream my name at the top of her lungs, run straight for me, and throw herself into the biggest, tightest hug of her life! I can practically hear her now, scolding me for making her worry, then refusing to let go for the rest of the day.

She'll be in disbelief, and I'd comfort her. I'd spend the night just so she knows I'm really there and I don't plan on going anywhere ever again! And she'll be making me those chili dogs I sure am craving! We'll do something SHE wants to do for once, like work in her garden. She'll be so happy...

Yup. That’s Amy for you. I know she’s waiting for me, just like Tails. She has to be.

There’s no way she’d ever give up on me. No way she’d throw in the towel and just move on. And there’s definitely no way she’d go after the second-fastest hedgehog in the world! Who would that even be? Shadow? Ha! The thought alone is ridiculous! She wouldn’t even entertain it.

There’s no way she could replace me!

…Right?

Chapter Text

“I said this before, but I still feel the need to remind you, that you didn’t have to come with me.”

“I know, but I want to make sure you’re okay with going back, and I didn’t want you to be alone! It has been a while since you’ve been in there… Since anyone has been. But I promise everything is exactly how you left it! Tails made sure of it!”

Her words didn’t bring me any comfort. I didn’t really want to go.

This wasn’t my house.

This was his house.

But I had to go inside. There was no way around it. 

Maybe—just maybe—there was something in there. Something that could help her see clearly. Or help me. Most of all, help Miles. The weight of it all pressed down on my chest, a suffocating force that refused to let up. No matter how much I wanted to turn away, to convince myself that none of this was my problem, I couldn’t. 

I dug myself too deep now to turn away. I had to play my part, for her sake. If that meant walking straight into the past I had no business facing, then so be it.

For a hero, a legend, the so-called fastest thing alive, he lived in such a modest place. It was small—smaller than Rose’s home—but despite its size, it was better maintained. The walls still stood strong, the windows weren’t broken, and the steps leading up to the entrance hadn’t rotted away. On the outside, it almost seemed untouched by time, standing still while everything else kept moving.

I had passed by it countless times, sometimes by accident, sometimes by chance, but never by choice. Even now, standing before it, I hesitated. There was something unsettling about being here, like an unspoken rule I was about to break. I’d heard Miles talk about it before, how he had gone through the place more times than he could count, searching desperately for something—anything—that could give him the answers he craved. But it never led him anywhere. Just an endless cycle of hope and disappointment.

No one really went inside anymore, as far as I could tell. Not out of respect, not out of fear of what they might find, but out of something worse—dread. Because stepping into that house meant acknowledging the emptiness left behind, the absence of warmth that could never be replaced.

“Here! The spare key you gave me before everything. You can make a copy since I’m guessing you lost your key.”

A half-hearted giggle escaped her lips, barely there, fragile. Rose extended her hand toward me and handed me her key… his key. The weight of that simple truth settled between us, unspoken but undeniable. Her hands shook, so I reached out, enclosing them in my own with a firm, steady grip. A silent reassurance. A promise that everything would be okay, even if neither of us fully believed it.

The key felt heavier than it should have. Just a small piece of metal, nothing more, yet in my palm, it carried the weight of something far greater. It was a door to another world—his world. A threshold between what was known and what was hidden, a chance to uncover whatever secrets he might have left behind. Maybe, just maybe, apart from any clue on where he could be, I’d find a side of him I had never understood.

There were sides of me, too, buried deep, things I could never explain to practically anyone. Only one person had ever truly known me, had ever truly seen me. 

And I lost her years ago.

I had never stepped foot inside his home. Not once, so I had no idea what to expect. From the outside, it looked well-kept, standing strong despite its modest size. There were no signs of neglect—no overgrown grass, no creeping vines threatening to consume it like at Rose’s place. But the outside could only say so much. It was the inside that mattered.

Would it reflect Rose’s home when I first walked through her door—disordered, haunted by a lingering presence that refused to fade? Or would it be something worse? A hollow space, stripped of all warmth, a place that felt more like a tomb than a home?

I didn’t want her to see it. Not yet. 

Not like this.

“You should wait out here.”

“What? Why? Sonic, I can-”

“I’ll only be a minute. I want to… remember everything on my own, first. I’ll just be inside,” I turned back to face the door. “If I need you, I’ll call out, but I’ll be fine.”

Will I? I’ll essentially be walking into someone else’s house for the first time. Feeling like that ghost again. Feeling like a ghost is watching me, waiting for me to give in. I could tell Rose was hesitant herself, but thankfully, she respected my wishes by giving me a small smile and nod while backing off.

I insert the key into the keyhole and turn it. A small click can be heard and the knob turned. Slowly, I pushed forward, stepped inside, and closed the door behind me.

…

It was... surprisingly normal. There was minimal effort put into decorations, but that wasn’t a shock. The faker was never the type to stay in one place for long. He was always on the move, running toward the next adventure, chasing threats before they could reach anyone else. A home like this didn’t need to be lived in—it just needed to be a pit stop. A place to return to when the dust settled.

But even then, I would see him at his friend’s homes more than his own.

Especially Rose’s.

I let my hand drift across the cool cyan-painted walls, my fingers tracing the faint ridges of old brush strokes. There weren’t many personal touches, just a handful of framed photos scattered across the walls. Some captured moments with Miles, the two of them frozen in time, grinning like brothers. Others featured the echidna, his usual gruff expression softened just slightly. Then there was one that stood out—a photo of Sonic standing between two other hedgehogs, one magenta, the other green. They all had that same ridiculous smirk, the kind that made it obvious they were related.

I wonder if they knew.

The place wasn’t cluttered, but it wasn’t exactly furnished either. There weren’t many doors, just open spaces leading from one area to another. Dust coated any surface beyond arm’s reach, a thin veil of neglect settling over shelves and countertops. Cobwebs stretched lazily across the high corners, undisturbed. If I had to sum it up in one word: abandoned. Not in a way that suggested chaos or destruction—nothing was rummaged through, nothing overturned or broken—but in a way that told me no one had truly lived here in a long time.

It reminded me of Rose’s home. The same quiet emptiness. The same feeling of absence.

But that’s where the similarities ended.

Despite the dust, the lack of furniture, and the small, modest layout, this place still felt... intact. Less scattered. Less lost. It didn’t carry the same eerie weight of a house that had forgotten what it meant to be a home. This place had simply been left behind. Rose’s, on the other hand, felt like it had been waiting—waiting for someone to come back, waiting for something that never would.

That unsettled me.

We all know that he doesn’t live here, so it’s going to be lifeless. Rose’s home felt emptier than this…

Then I saw it.

A photo, encased in a heart-shaped frame, rested on a small drawer beside an unlit lamp. A frozen moment in time, untouched by the dust settling around it. It was of him and Rose, captured during one of his birthday celebrations. I remembered that day—mostly because Rouge had forced me to attend. I had been there, standing off to the side, watching as they took this very picture, and yet, back then, I hadn’t given it a second thought. Just another moment, another memory.

But to Rose, it was everything.

She had wanted to cherish this forever, to hold onto a piece of him that wouldn’t fade with time. Nothing wrong with that.

I picked up the frame, my fingers ghosting over its edges as I stared into the image longer than I should have. He looked... genuinely happy. A raw, unfiltered joy that was rare to see. His smile wasn’t forced, his laughter wasn’t restrained. It was real. The kind of happiness that didn’t need to be questioned.

And her?

She was radiant. Beaming. Eyes alight with something warm, something alive. She held onto him, and he held onto her, as if letting go would shatter the moment. Were they just friends? I hoped so. At least then, maybe—just maybe—it would make this easier to stomach.

But that look in her eyes... I had never seen it before.

Despite all the affection Rose had ever given “me”, despite the unwavering warmth she poured so freely into every glance, every gesture—this was different. This was love, pure and unguarded. A kind of love I didn’t recognize, a kind I wasn’t sure I’d ever been worthy of.

I forced myself to look away, but the guilt clung to me like a shadow.

He’d hate me for this, wouldn’t he?

For replacing him. For taking what he left behind and trying to fit myself into a space that was never meant to be mine. If our places were reversed, I’d hate me too.

I placed the frame back down, careful, reverent. It wasn’t mine to hold.

It wasn’t mine to accept.

Put it down.

The familiar voice came back.

I can’t.

It will just hurt you to look.

Maybe I deserved it… Maybe this was my punishment for everything I’ve done wrong back then and now.

To be loved by someone who never loved you . What kind of hell is this?

Put it back.

I wouldn’t wish it upon my greatest rivals.

DROP IT!

Released.

The frame slipped from my grasp before I even realized I had let go. It struck the floor with a sharp crack, the sound cutting through the stillness like a blade. I flinched. Shattered fragments of glass scattered across the wooden floor, glinting under the dim light. I bent down, hesitating before picking it up. The damage wasn’t as bad as it could have been—the majority of the glass was cracked but still held together. A few jagged pieces had broken free, lying like discarded remnants of something that was once whole.

I traced my fingers over the fractured surface, my gaze locking onto the image beneath it. In some cruel twist of fate—his face remained untouched, but hers… hers was marred by a web of splintered glass. I let out a slow breath, my voice barely a whisper.

" I'm sorry. .." To who? Maybe to him more than to Rose.

I placed the frame down on the nearest surface, turning it face-down as if that could somehow undo the damage, but it still hurt. The broken shards in my palm felt dull like they carried none of that physical sharpness. With a quiet sigh, I discarded them in the waste bin, my movements mechanical.

I saw it.

His room.

It was a lot more frightening than I had anticipated. Not because it was in disrepair—no, it was perfectly intact. That was the problem. The idea of stepping inside, of facing whatever pieces of him lingered within those walls, made my chest tighten in something far beyond dread. 

It had been so easy to walk into Rose’s room, to sift through the remnants of her sorrow and loss. I was worried about her. I wanted to make sure she hadn’t done anything to herself.

This was different.

There wasn’t even a door to hesitate behind. Everything was already laid bare before me. I could see it all—his bed, his dresser, a few books scattered neatly across a surface. An average bedroom. Simple. Ordinary.

So why couldn’t I step inside?

I willed my legs to move, but my body betrayed me. My fingers curled tightly around the edges of the doorframe, a silent act of resistance. I was pushing myself forward, yet something unseen was pulling me back. My body was at war with itself, a brutal game of push and pull.

I couldn't win.

Not against this. Not against him .

What a coward!

I am the Ultimate Life Fo-

THUD !!

The Ultimate Life Form does NOT just fall forward… I was pushed. Looking back, I saw no one there… But I felt hands press against my back, pushing me inside.

All I could now was get up.

Nothing had changed—except for the presence of life in a room that had been untouched for far too long. The air felt heavier now as if it had been still for ages and was only now beginning to stir. But I hadn’t come here to dwell on the ghosts of the past. I came for answers. Clues. Anything that could help Rose. Anything that could help me?

I turned to his bookshelf first, scanning the spines with an almost desperate need to find something, anything of use. But there was nothing. Just dusty history textbooks that barely looked like they had been touched. A few well-worn comic books sat among them, the covers faded from time but otherwise unopened. They hadn’t been touched in at least two years. Maybe longer. Hopefully longer.

I exhaled sharply and turned my attention to his closet—another space left without a door. Like the rest of the room, it was simple. Unremarkably so. There wasn’t much in the way of clothing. A single brown bandana hung on a hook, untouched by time. And beneath it, an outfit I recognized immediately. The ridiculous sailor costume he had worn to Rose’s birthday party. He had never worn it again after that day. Not once.

Can’t blame him. I hadn’t worn my own costume since either.

At the bottom of the closet, a neat row of shoes lined the floor. Some were beaten and worn, bearing the marks of years spent running, traveling, and living. Others looked pristine, untouched—pairs that had never even been given the chance to carry him forward.

For someone who was always moving, always running... he had left behind so much.

There were a few boxes tucked away in the corner of the closet, their contents seemingly full of memories—photos, papers, little keepsakes, charms, and bracelets. Rings that had long since lost their purpose, their meaning faded with time. Everything in those boxes seemed to have lost its power as if they were nothing more than remnants of a past that didn’t hold much significance anymore. I couldn’t help but wonder why he kept them, why he held onto these items that no longer served a purpose. What was the point of keeping things that couldn’t do anything?

But I wasn’t here to criticize. I wasn’t here to judge. I was here to find answers.

I shifted through the boxes, pushing papers aside, reading through scraps of forgotten notes and memories, until something caught my eye. Something familiar. It was a small object that had once belonged to the silver hedgehog from the future. 

A ring that he used to help travel across time. The ring was no longer powered, needing both halves to actually work, but I took it with me. This is what I was looking for. Maybe not a solution, but if Miles or the silver hedgehog could get it to at least detect the other half, they could get somewhere.

To anyone else, it was just a normal ring, but I could sense the past chaos stored within. 

Silver and I shared some common traits—abilities, experiences—but when it came to who we were, we were practically opposites. He had the power of Chaos Control, just like me, but unlike me, he had the ability to travel through time. Yet, for all his power, he hadn’t been able to stop this. To find Sonic, to undo the mess that had been made. It was curious, really. Why couldn’t he go back and change things? But I suppose some things couldn’t be fixed, no matter how much we wished otherwise.

There were plenty of mistakes in my own life I would love to go back and prevent.

I moved to open another box, the cardboard creaking under my touch. Inside, there was something unexpected—something that made my heart stutter for just a moment. A jacket. A jacket with a bright color that matched his shoes rather well. And beneath it, a card that hadn’t been opened.

“ Happy Birthday, Sonic! It’s going to get cold soon, so I thought this would be a great gift! I made it myself! Hope you love it just as much as I love you !”

The date on the bottom of the card proved that this was a gift sent nearly 5 years back. I’ve never seen him wear it. What a waste…

I placed the card down gently and lifted the jacket up to see it in its full.

It was quite a stylish, red jacket. The article of clothing is a deep, rich red with lighter red seams to emphasize folds, edges, and depth. The most striking feature was the large yellow lightning bolt emblem on the back, which gave it an almost electrifying and rebellious look. But I knew better, the bolt was meant to represent the blue hedgehog’s need for speed, as he would say. The jacket looks snug. The collar is slightly raised, giving it a classic, confident biker-jacket vibe.

A jacket meant for him . But neglected. Left to rot in a box, never to be used.

… Don't worry, Rose.

I’ll learn to love it for him.

—---------

“Sonic! You’re back-” Her voice cut when she saw the jacket on me, and she gave another smile that was never meant for me. “Oh my Chaos!!! I can’t believe you remembered!” She practically bounced on her feet, clasping her hands together, her joy momentarily overwhelming whatever hesitation she had.

“Of course, I would remember, Amy.”

The words felt strange in my mouth. A lie wrapped in truth. Borrowing more than I would allow. Red had always been my color, after all.

“Well…” Her words faltered as she rubbed her hands together, the nervous energy radiating from her like a palpable force. I noticed it then—the slight tremble in her fingers. Now, they were shaking, trembling like leaves in a storm. She was trying to hide it, but it was clear. "I guess since you’re home, this is ‘see you later,’ huh?"

Her smile was weak, almost painful, and even though she was trying so hard to keep it up, she wasn’t as strong emotionally as she was with her physique. I could see the way she was struggling to keep her emotions from spilling over. She didn’t want to cry, but I knew she was fighting it. "Could I come by tomorrow to help tidy things up? Or maybe you’d want a few days to yourself? I know I’ve been very onto you this week… I just… I missed you so, so, SO much! A part of me doesn’t want you to go… " Her voice trailed off again, and the words seemed to weigh heavier with each syllable, as though she was giving me the space I needed—whether I wanted it or not.

I didn’t need to hear anymore. I finally understood what she dreaded, and the realization hit me like a brick to the chest.

“Amy…”

“No! I get it. Sonic. We’re grown now! No need to sugarcoat it for me like you always had.” There was a shift in her demeanor—subtle but unmistakable. The guilt that had been clinging to her like a second skin began to peel away, replaced by something else. Resignation. A mask of confidence to hide the hurt. “You need space and you want to go see and catch up with your other friends. Enter your life again. Live and learn. I’ll be here whenever you need m-”

“Amy Rose.”

I didn’t let her finish.

I reached for her hands again, this time entwining our fingers. I didn’t know why I did it—why it felt so necessary. But I was scared. Scared that if I didn’t hold onto her now, she’d slip away. Scared that if I let go, she’d never look at me the same way again.

“I want to stay with you.”

Without hesitation. Without a lick of doubt, some would assume. The words came out like they were natural. Like they were scripted and practiced time and time again in the back of my mind. As if I had always planned them.

She stared at me, almost in disbelief. A part of me wondered if I said the right thing. I was certain that she wanted this. I mean… It would be better for us both. She gets to keep her “hero” and I could keep an eye on her.

I told Miles I would…

Maybe I shouldn’t hav-

“OH SONIC!!!” Before I could react, she threw herself at me, arms wrapped tightly around my torso, squeezing with all the strength her small frame could muster. She hugged me a lot—spoiler. It was something she did instinctively, something she never hesitated to do when emotions overwhelmed her.

Unlike the blue fool, who had always been caught off guard by her affections, I understood. I knew that this was how she cared. How she showed love.

And I would never push her away.

I would never run.

—---------------

Snip… Snip… Snip…

From Ultimate Life Form to Finical Garden Boy. Who knew I’d get such an upgrade ? Is this what Professor Robotnik had in store when he created me all those years ago on the ARK? Would he be pleased if he saw me now and what I became? His greatest creation that could take out any threat, resorted to a hedgehog who cut overgrown vines, pulled out vicious weeds, and removed dead flora from a garden that was wilder than forests that stood strong for centuries.

“It’s been so long since I had a flower grow here! After neglecting them for so long, they’re going to get the treatment they deserve! I’m so excited!”

…Screw what Gerald wanted.

What mattered was the way Amy’s face lit up, the way her eyes sparkled with joy at this task. If restoring this garden brought her happiness, then I’d be damned if I didn’t help her rip out every single overgrown weed, trim away every strangling vine, and clear away the suffocating mess that had taken over what was once her sanctuary.

“It’ll be better! Prettier!” she beamed, wiping sweat from her brow as she gazed over the untamed patch of land with a look of pure determination. “I’ll have tulips in one bed, and rose bushes in another! And my prize-winning lilies will grow back better than ever!”

Tulips. Lilies. Roses.

Beautiful, fragile things.

Their petals were always soft as silk. Their colors carried that vibrant aura and were always full of life.

At their core, they all held the same meaning. They all had the same purpose. The same ending. Eventually, they will wilt when the cold comes. It will always come, there is no preventing the inevitable. Everything comes to an end. Even the most beautiful roses lose their color, lose their petals. Every rose loses what makes them roses.

Every rose withers.

Every… Rose dies.

…

Snip. Snip.

The shears in my hand glided through the tangled mess of thorns, severing the dead from the living. The sound was sharp, final. A quiet execution.

I glanced up upon feeling a pair of eyes on me. I was always good at detecting being watched by threats, bystanders, and admirers. I scanned the plains, watching a few Mobians pass by with little mind, the trees whispered to one another, and the sun glared at us.

In the distance, I saw him. Miles . Standing under the same tree I would always stand beneath when I spotted Rose in the past. He stood there, too far away for me to tell what look plastered his face. But I already knew it wasn’t a positive one.

He knew. He stared. He watched.

He walked away once he knew I spotted him, but he made no effort to leave swiftly. It was enough for me to know he wasn't happy.

Amy hummed beside me, oblivious to the weight of my thoughts. She was hopeful. She believed in new beginnings, in second chances. In regrowth. The garden being her prime example.

“I am just as positive that they’ll be breathtaking,” I said at last, my voice softer than I intended. “You have the heart and patience to make them flourish under your watch and care. Just like everything else you come in contact with. ”After all, she changed me.

She saw past my walls, past the cold, hardened exterior I had built around myself. Where others kept their distance, afraid of the thorns, she reached out without hesitation. And despite everything, despite who I was, she convinced me that this world was worth protecting. That I was more than just a weapon. More than just someone built for destruction.

Rose helped me grow.

Like all the other flowers she nurtured, she took something neglected, something forgotten, and gave it light. Gave it warmth. Gave it the chance to become something more than it was.

Even those overshadowed by darkness could still reach for the sun because she gave them the chance.

“Why, Sonic! You’re so sweet!” I watched her as she carried a bag of fresh soil to the other side of her backyard, opposite to me, with ease. If she could hold her Piko hammer without issue, asking to help her with those would be an insult to her strength. “I’m somewhat embarrassed I let my garden come to this, I usually am so attentive with them and would never let a single weed steal the nutrients for my precious plants! The flowers are like… a part of me! ‘An extension of my good soul’, Tails told me once! Heh-hah ! Letting these poor flowers die feels like I let a part of me die. I swear I never would have let it get this bad under any normal circumstance! I just…”

She trailed off, and I didn’t even have to face her to know the look on her face was that of longing. The sorrow in her eyes. The sad smile she was fighting to keep on.

“I know.” I put some stray weeds in a green bag, which Rose told me she’d use to later turn into compost. She hardly let anything go to waste. 

“I know you know. It’s just hard to believe I ignored the flowers for so long.” Amy admitted, her voice laced with something wistful, something a little sad. She let out a quiet sigh, pausing to adjust her grip on the heavy bag of soil. “I always said the garden was a part of me, but the truth is… I started the garden because of you.”

She knelt down, setting the bag beside her before pulling out her shears, the metal glinting briefly in the light. With a practiced flick of her wrist, she sliced open the top, the scent of fresh earth rising between us.

“Really?”

“Of course, silly!” she giggled, bubbly and pure like bubblegum. “I told myself back when we were still kids, ‘One day, Sonic will need a place to rest after all his adventures.’” She dug her fingers into the soil, testing its softness, her movements careful and precise. “I wanted to make somewhere peaceful, without all the chaos of the adventures. Somewhere quiet. Somewhere safe. A place you could always come back to, no matter how far you ran.”

Her fingers traced lazy patterns in the dirt as if lost in thought before she finally looked up at me again with a smile—soft and knowing. “Back then, I didn’t know how to say it,” she murmured, eyes glimmering with memories long past, memories we never shared, “but I guess… the garden was my way of staying close to you, even when you were so far away. Back when you ran away from me. Back when I could only watch as you disappeared over the horizon.”

She let out a small laugh, shaking her head again, this time at herself. “Even when you were off chasing the wind, I felt like—somehow—you’d always find your way back here. Back to this little patch of Earth, I made just for you. Back to me.”

Her words sat between us, weightless yet heavy, and I could only feel the burden of borrowed comfort that she willingly gave him.

She let out a small laugh, but anyone could tell there was no humor in it. “But when I stopped paying attention to the garden, I began to wonder if you’d find your way back… I mean I always knew you’d come back but I wonder if you would have returned sooner if I had just… It’s silly, right? Thinking that flowers and trees could be enough to keep up with someone as fast as you.”

… Snip. Snip. 

Heroes would sacrifice themselves to save the world.

“No, it’s not silly. I’d sacrifice it all just to have you here, waiting for me every day. The reason I came back… is because I chose you, even when it feels like the world’s falling apart. And I’ll keep choosing you, no matter the cost.”

I’d sacrifice the world to save her.

… … Stop smiling .

She kept smiling, but it shifted. For what seemed like the first time since this had begun, it felt like a genuine, real smile. She was smiling at me.

Not him .

That—oh Chaos —that alone made my heart jump. No, lurch. No, wait— stop beating altogether?!

WHY IS MY HEART IN AGONY?!

Panic shot through me like a jolt of electricity, my entire system short-circuiting. My quills stood on end. My breath hitched. My hands twitched like they suddenly forgot what their job was.

No, no, no.

I whipped back around, violently forcing my focus onto my task, trying—desperately—to ignore the deafening THUNDERSTORM in my chest that made it near impossible to function.

A flaw? In me ?! Impossible! I was the Ultimate Life Form! I held no imperfections!

Then why did I feel like my brain was trying to evacuate my skull in sheer, unrelenting panic?

“Just don’t tell anyone I said that! Only Cream knows about why I made this garden!” Her soft giggles interrupted my troubled thoughts, turning back to her own task. “She would come by all the time to see and help me work on it! I think she got sad when she saw the state of my flowers and garden… But her mother wouldn’t let her visit as much and I don’t blame her. I should visit soon! She’s been growing up so much, I wonder how she is now!”

I listened but didn’t respond. Cream’s mother likely didn’t want her to see Rose so broken. Cream would be devastated. They were so close, often having tea together and taking care of animals and others, like sisters. Cream was growing up, understanding things better, but despite the hardships of growth, she kept her compassion and heart. She’d be upset, for sure, had she witnessed the downfall of it all.

“I mean, if it had been anyone else, I’m sure she’d understand. Of course, you’re all important to me! All my friends are! If anyone had been the one missing for two years, I think I’d react the same way and let my garden overgrow.”

“Really?” Somehow, I doubted that. I doubted the garden wouldn't suffer. I doubt she wouldn't have suffered. Rose may have cared deeply for all her friends—may have grieved just as hard if something had happened to them—but him? He had always held a different place in her heart, one that no one else could ever hope to reach. If someone like Rouge or the fox had disappeared, she would have mourned, yes… but would she have lost herself the way she had for him? Would she have let the roots take over, let the flowers wither away, let her whole world stop ?

No.

“Well… maybe.” She giggled, realizing I knew and could see through her words. She spread more fresh soil over the places where she had just planted the fresh flower seeds. “But I would wait an eternity for you.”

So would I …

I clapped and dusted some dirt off my hands and used the small shovel she handed me to dig at the hardened soil to uproot some of the more stubborn weeds. “As nice as that is, I wouldn’t find peace knowing you were miserable every day, waiting for someone who would never come.”

She stopped working for a moment, still facing away from me. Her fingers curled against the dirt as if pushing back a feeling she didn’t want to express with me there. I watched as she took a moment to inhale and uncurled her fingers.

“I can’t. I could never stop waiting for you. I’d rather be alone than be without you.”

…

It doesn’t get any easier hearing those words. That truth. No matter how many times I tell myself I already know, no matter how many times I try to brace for it, it still stings just the same. It’s something I should be used to by now, a reality I should have accepted long ago. But the fact remains—between him and me, she will always choose a hero over a weapon.

I forced myself to turn back to my task, releasing the shovel and gripping the shears tighter than necessary. I cut through the tangled mess of overgrown vines and branches that I had dug to find. Each snip felt oddly cathartic like I was hacking away at something far deeper than just the neglected garden. Rose’s voice carried on behind me, warm and full of admiration as she began listing off her friends, one by one, as if reciting a cherished melody she knew by heart.

She spoke of each of them with such fondness, such pure love, her words painting a vivid picture of the way they had all shaped her. How they had lifted her up, changed her, and made her life better.

Each Mobian she named had an impact on her—a real one. One that helped shape the kind of woman she was and had become.

What did I ever contribute to Rose?

I wasn’t a champion. I had never told her what she meant to me, how I’d fight every threat this world had just to make sure she’d sleep without worry. I wasn’t a guardian or a warrior.

All I did was take.

Right now, I was just a replacement. A stand-in for someone she truly needed .

And yet, despite that, she had changed me. She helped me grow, and reshaped the way I saw the world. Because of her, I remembered why I fought—for Maria, for the future she had dreamed of. She reminded me that, while the world was dark and full of disease and parasites, it was also full of hope. There was still light to be found, even in the deepest shadows.

And where there was light… there would always be shadows.

“I wonder how Shadow’s been… It feels like ages since I last saw him.”

Chapter Text

“And… Here I go! All dressed! Promise you didn’t take a peek? You guys can really act like immature boys sometimes!

The mere thought of peeking while a lady was changing felt improper—something I would never do. If there was one lesson ingrained into me, it was to always respect a lady’s privacy. The Professor had made sure of that during my time on the ARK, especially when it came to Maria. She had days when she wanted to stay in bed, wrapped up in soft blankets, free from prying eyes. Back then, I understood it as a matter of courtesy. Now, it was second nature.

Respect women. Especially the Latinas.

I exhaled, resting my arms on the delicate pink chair Rose had positioned for me. She had mentioned she wanted to try on a new outfit—something different, she had said, though she refused to elaborate. My curiosity got the better of me, so I humored her, agreeing to sit and wait while she changed behind the folding screen. It wasn’t unusual for Rose to be excited about fashion, and truth be told, I found her enthusiasm... endearing. “I promise, I didn’t peek.”

“Okay! It may be a bit… different. Just a warning so you're not too surprised!”

“R-Amy, I wouldn’t mind if you wore the same dress every day, just a shade darker, or you decided to wear a ball gown for the rest of your days, nothing can startle me.” Well, it was half-true. While I didn’t consider myself easily surprised, there were times when Rose managed to catch me off guard. She wasn't predictable. That's something I liked about her.

Would this be one of those moments?

“Well, here we go!” The door creaked open and she emerged from her room. I could practically feel another wave of heat rise in my chest. That same heat and pain from the gardens. I didn’t even have the chance to ponder the cause before Rose spun in place, showing off her outfit in full view. “TADA!!! New year, halfway-through-the-year, new me! Well, Sonic! How do I look!?”

Rose looked… different. She was dressed in a shirtwaist dress, sporting a new fuchsia red dress color that contrasted her pink quills and peach fur, yet complemented them. Black accents, different from the pure white trims on her old dress. She replaced her pink headband with a darker grey one. She even styled her quills a little differently. Under other circumstances, I wouldn’t pay half a mind to any changes in someone’s life, let alone clothes, but she was asking “me” what was on my mind when I saw her.

I couldn’t tell the full truth, I didn't even understand it. But I also couldn't tell her how the heavenly sounds of paradise were nothing compared to her laughter. How even the break of dawn, with all its breathtaking hues of gold and pink, was but a mere imitation of the radiance she carried effortlessly. The world had its beauty—its sunsets, its melodies, its poetry—but none of it could ever rival the way my heart attempted to kill me every time just by the sight of her. I read this in one of Rouge's novels once.

So I filtered my words. “You look beautiful, Amy.” I walked toward her as she fanned out the front of her dress and placed my palm on her cheek. “You are always beautiful.” It was gentle, but it was true.

More bubbly giggles escaped her mouth, muffled by her gloved hand, not even trying to hide the rosy color that spread through her cheeks. “You charmer!” She took my hand that still rested against her warmth and gave it a squeeze. As I pulled my hand away, she was pulling me closer to her, resting her head on my shoulder for a brief moment. For a moment, it was just her and I.

“Thank you…”

My hands trembled, but not enough for her to notice. My heart was dying, like it wanted this, but my mind said I couldn’t take it.

Rose nuzzled against my fur, her new favorite spot when holding me, like a child holding a stuffed animal. “I was so worried that you wouldn’t like it… It’s new and different and not many people like change.”

You’ve changed in ways you never could have foreseen. If you were to stand face to face with the old you, would she recognize the person you are now?

Would she look into your eyes and see a stranger, or would she understand the silent pain that brought you here? Would the old Rose reach for me the way you are now, with the same warmth, the same tenderness? Or would she hesitate, unsure of the connection we now share?

No… I don’t think she would. The old Rose would have seen me differently. She would have seen only what was on the surface, the parts of me that others defined. She wouldn’t have seen the way I softened in your presence, the way I changed, too.

So, would she hold me the way you do now? The old Rose would see me for who I am.

So probably not…

“Ready to see Mi-Tails?”

She picked up her head and gave a warm smile, thankfully not catching my minor slip, “Of course I am!! It’s been forever since I’ve seen him! I need to apologize to him too for missing out on dinner with him and Vanilla, but once he sees you, I’m sure he’ll understand!”

I nod, doing my best to seem casual. The bond between the blue hedgehog and the fox was undeniably the strongest I’ve ever seen amongst the Mobians of this time. Not even the echidna would rival that bond. They were brothers before anything else and had been for years so I heard.

He knew we were coming. He knew why we were coming. He had insisted Rose visit him and I agreed it was for the best. To prevent any suspicion, I had informed Rose that “I” had already reunited with Miles before seeing her. No doubt, if they were really to reunite, the blue menace and the fox would have a tear-filled, bubbling with snot, painful reunion that would consist of mushy words only brothers who’ve been separated for years could speak.

Rose knew that, for the blue buffoon, “Tails” came before her, and she had accepted that since day one. She’d never push her luck and never say the fox came second to her. That makes this easier on us all.

She picked up a basket filled with treats she had baked right before changing, her way to make some peace with the fox. I took her free arm and led her out into the open world where people were waiting.

Where every Mobian was watching.

Great Chaos. Help us all…

—-----------------

When we arrived, the laboratory was the same as usual. It was left open for anyone who wandered within and could have held information on his whereabouts. Anything worth a pretty penny or possibly dangerous was locked away—and for good measure, too. However, Miles always had high security around his lab, and with most threats permanently removed, the chances of any threats treating his inventions as weapons were already low.

“Wow… this place seems a lot bigger than I remember…” Rose stepped ahead of me and spoke with a sense of realization. I hadn’t noticed over the years, the small changes that slowly added up to a new normal for Miles. Yet, to someone like Rose who hadn’t been here in two years, her vision of what the lab last looked like was likely vastly different than what it was now. Maps that made no sense to her. Stacks of papers that held lines of code and signals of life across galaxies that didn’t exist. Screens that constantly show life on a radar.

I stepped closer and gently took her hand once more, giving it a reassuring squeeze. “Yes… It’s been a while. Things have changed since you—we… since we were gone.” My words wavered, the weight of what we had lost pressing down on me. A flicker of sorrow crossed her face, her expression tightening as another painful realization cut through her like a paper-thin blade. She understood now—understood just how much time had passed, how different everything had become.

Her fingers curled slightly in mine before she took a steadying breath. “Let’s find Tails,” she murmured, a new resolve in her voice.

Finding him wasn’t difficult. Tails was nothing if not predictable. Every time I visited, he was in the same spot, hunched over his desk, surrounded by an array of monitors that flickered with data only he could decipher. His workspace was a chaos of scribbled notes, half-formed theories, and intricate blueprints that led to more questions than answers—dead ends disguised as breakthroughs.

And just as I expected, when the main metal doors slid apart, there he was; hunched over his desk, writing down something that appeared to capture his attention more than the sound of the open gates.

“TAILS!”

Rose was gone from my side in an instant, moving so fast she could have rivaled me in speed. She launched herself toward the yellowish-orange fox, her voice ringing with unfiltered relief and joy.

“Amy?—OOF!”

He barely had time to react before Rose collided with him, tumbling to the ground in a tangled heap. I watched as she squeezed him in a bone-crushing hug, one I was all too familiar with. The only difference between Miles and I was that she actually called out his name

“Oh my Chaos!!! I missed you so much!”

From the short distance, I caught the flicker of light in Miles’s eyes, the sheen of unshed tears turning into a full embrace as he pulled Rose close. I turned away, giving them their moment. Glancing around, I noticed how much tidier the place was compared to my last visit. He must have cleaned up to avoid raising suspicion before Rose and I arrived. Still, scattered papers remained within reach, and a few computers continued scanning vast, empty wastelands

“HA, and what am I? Chopped liver?”

Another voice, quieter and from behind us, interrupted the moment. A voice we all recognized. It only took a moment for our heads to turn, and we saw Silver through a small screen, one that Miles had been facing. He must have been in the middle of a conversation when we arrived. But that’s only my best guess, I’m no “all-knowing” narrator. 

Miles hesitated for a moment before reaching for a remote. “Oh, um…” He pressed a button, and the video footage shifted from a small screen to the largest one in the room. The image sharpened, and there, in full view, stood a silver-furred hedgehog.

“SILVER!” Rose’s voice rang out, filled with surprise and excitement. My head snapped toward her, my eyes darting between her and the screen. 

She… remembered him?

On-screen, Silver’s expression brightened. “Amy! Wow, it’s been forever since I last saw you! You look great! How have you been?”

That warm, familiar giggle echoed in the room, her enthusiasm bubbling over. “Hehe! Same old, same old! Trying to get back into the groove of things. I’ve been baking, cooking—oh! I even started fixing up my garden again.” Her eyes sparkled as she spoke, clearly proud of her progress.

Why was it so easy for Silver to get that warmth while I had to work so hard for it?

Familiarity…

“You haven’t come over in months! Everyone misses you! Where are you these days?”

The time jumper scratched the back of his head. “Ah! Well, I’ve been hanging with Team Chaotix, we were—” He stopped mid-sentence, hesitating. His posture stiffened, and for a brief moment, his eyes flickered with something unreadable. Was he hiding something? Did… did he already know? 

Had Miles told him?

Clearing his throat, he continued, though his words felt more cautious. “We were working on a case and… well, we hit some dead ends. I’ve personally thought about throwing in the towel…” He let out a short, awkward laugh, but I noticed something in Miles’s eyes. Fear. “But hey, we’re taking a break! Or, well… I am. The others are already gearing up for a new case for some butterfly or moth and some bakery. Just decided to chat with Tails for any updates on… …breakfast. B-because breakfast here is to DIE for! Seaside City has the best breakfast and brunch places EVER!”

While the others continued talking, their voices fading into the far back of my mind, I made my way over to Miles. My footsteps were quiet as I reached into my pocket and pulled out the small item I had found at his house—a ring. Silver’s inhibitor ring that he gave the blue blur many moons ago after saving the future for the umpteenth time.

I held it out to him, the cool metal resting in my palm. “I don’t know if this will help much,” I said softly, my voice barely above a whisper, “but maybe… if it brings you even the smallest bit of peace… it’s best if you have it.”

Miles froze for a moment, eyes fixed on the ring like it was something fragile, like it might disappear if he blinked. He didn’t reach for it right away. Just stared, and for a second, I wondered if offering it had been a mistake—if maybe this was a wound still too raw to touch, but then he slowly nodded, expression unreadable, and took the ring from my hand with a quiet kind of reverence.

I couldn’t tell what he was thinking—whether he believed it was something valuable, something meaningful, or if he’d already made up his mind that it was just a relic of a past that couldn’t be fixed.

Still, I had done my part.

“Thanks… Silver and I could maybe do something, maybe open some new portal? If we can even get it charged and working... But… I think Silver is giving up on this now, too. He’s been pulling away, saying things may be better off this way and…” He trailed off, but his tone held light hints of venom. Resentment?

It didn’t matter to me.

Without a word, Miles turned and walked to a cluttered desk at the edge of the room, where pieces of half-built inventions and broken machinery lay scattered across the surface like fragments of abandoned thoughts. He placed the ring down gently among the chaos, as if it somehow belonged there—with the unfinished, the lost, the not-quite-fixed.

And maybe… it did.

I leaned against a wall and stared at the monitor before me, trying to ignore the clawing and the scratching inside me that tried so hard to get my heart to stop beating. Ignore the voices. Ignore Silver’s clear lies. My eyes were fixed on the screen as the radar line traced its slow, counterclockwise rotation. It moved with an almost hypnotic rhythm, sweeping over the digital grid in search of life. His life.

Every so often, faint blips flickered into existence—brief flashes marking the presence of common Mobian life—only to vanish just as quickly, swallowed by the void of the display.

I imagined what it must have been like to sit here for months, endlessly watching this screen and the many others surrounding it. Day after day, waiting for a sign, for something—anything—to appear. To hold onto hope that the next blink of light wouldn’t be another false lead, another dead end. To feel that crushing weight settle in when the radar passed over the same empty spaces, again and again.

No wonder Miles always looked so exhausted. It wasn’t just the sleepless nights, it was the endless, suffocating waiting.

“-and I even brought Sonic! Oh, and we have treats! Thought we could have a picnic like we used to!”

The name that I had borrowed brought me back to the moment. It was like it was mine now. I turned back to the two who were now standing with little effort or surprise. Rose was now speaking and she held that gleeful smile as she gestured to me , not him . If it was really him, no doubt the fox would be overwhelmed, but there was just an empty gaze. Miles’s eyes were pained. 

He knew.

Silver smiled as if nothing was wrong. As if this was normal. As if she just didn’t say his name instead of mine.  “A picnic!?”

"A picnic?" the fox repeated, uncertainty lacing his voice. His ears twitched slightly as he shifted his weight. "I mean, sure… we could have one sometime later. But I’ve been busy working on a few things, and it might take a while to wrap them up. Maybe we could do a raincheck?" I could tell he was stalling, and a part of me was almost grateful that he chose to ignore Rose’s mention of his best friend and how I stood in his place. The last thing I needed was for that conversation to happen now .

“Oh, come on! I even made cucumber sandwiches and peppermint cookies—your favorites!" Rose had lifted the picnic basket she had been carrying, or rather, had set down when she tackled the fox, digging through it eagerly to pull out the treats she had painstakingly prepared. The scent of freshly baked cookies filled the air, sweet and minty.

Miles hesitated, rubbing his arm as his eyes darted past me to the monitors behind him. "Amy, really… I would love to, but…" His voice trailed off, and I could see the conflict in his expression—torn between his responsibilities and the simple joy of stepping away for a moment.

Before Rose could protest or Silver encourage, I placed a hand on her shoulder and spoke gently. "Let’s give him some space, Amy. He’s probably feeling a little overwhelmed seeing you outside of your house for the first time in a while, and he’s been very busy so he told me." I reached for the basket and carefully set it down on Miles’s desk, right next to his scattered notes. "We can eat here while we talk. Besides, he wants to run some tests on us while we’re here—to make sure we’re both okay."

Rose blinked, and for a brief moment, her own uncertainty flickered in her eyes. Or maybe it was disbelief. “Tests?” she repeated, her voice quieter now, like she wasn’t sure she had heard me correctly. Her eyes shifted between Miles and I, trying to piece the puzzle together.

"It’s just so I can be absolutely sure that everything is in order," Miles explained, his tone firm yet not unkind. Even after all he’s been through, there was that understanding and hand he offered. "I mean, we all know just as well as anyone else that we’ve dealt with plenty of cases involving visitors from other dimensions before, and I know firsthand how disorienting the experience can be. The last thing I want is to overlook something important.” His expression softened just slightly.

"And that includes making sure you—" he turned to Rose, meeting her eyes with a serious look, "—are truly okay. You’ve been locked in your house for two years, Ames…” I saw a look of shame wash over Rose’s face, her eyes glancing down at the ground as Miles practically lectured her. “Believe it or not, prolonged isolation, especially under these circumstances, can have lasting effects on a person’s mind and well-being. It’s not just about physical health. Mental and emotional stability matter just as much, if not more."

I could tell Rose was anxious, so I leaned close to her, just enough where she could hear me, “It’ll be okay… I’m here for you… Whatever you need, whatever you say, we’re in good hands.” Her shoulders were no longer tense, and her smile returned, even if slightly.

The test Amy underwent wasn’t anything like how I imagined she feared it would be. There was no metal contraption on her crown, taking scans of her brain or digging into her memories (as helpful as it might be). Rather, Miles asked her questions, reminding her that her honesty would yield the best results.

I sat by and listened, squeezing her hand whenever she began to doubt herself, whenever she needed “my” presence there. Some questions were harder to answer than others. 

Rose took many pauses, but never did we rush her. We didn’t judge. But we were all worried.

She revealed things I already knew, such as being isolated and not finding joy in visits from friends, but that was her own choice. Not eating well. Feeling alone most of the time. She had lost her main passions, such as baking, gardening, and fighting with her friends. Having recurring nightmares based on that day-

“Since the topic came up,” the fox’s eyes dashed to me, a flash of curiosity, “I think it’s important to talk about what really happened that day, so we can differentiate reality from those nightmares.” He set down the clipboard and pen he was holding and took Rose’s other hand. “You know that I… wasn’t there to see the final fight. I just want to see what you saw…”

It was true. Miles wasn’t there.

That much, I knew for certain. The faker had made the choice that Miles had to stay behind, to keep him far from the battlefield. Not out of fear, but out of necessity. Maybe out of fear… He didn’t want his brother involved in the fight—not when the worst-case scenario loomed over us all like a storm cloud ready to unleash the worst storm we ever faced.

Despite all the precautions, despite the arsenal of inventions he had crafted over the years because of the constant threats from before—some powerful enough to shift the tide of a battle—Miles had remained in his lab. Not as an act of cowardice, but as part of a carefully laid-out strategy. He had protested, I remember him arguing with the blue hedgehog about it, about how he could help, but at the end, Miles stationed himself where he was needed most: with the survivors, the villagers, the ones who had nowhere else to go if everything went south.

Because there was always a backup plan. Always.

If the battlefield became a graveyard, if the fight turned into something far worse than anticipated, Miles would be there, ready to pick up the pieces, ready to ensure that at least some of them made it out alive.

I think that argument was the last conversation Miles had with his brother…

“Well… We had spent all week trying to find a way to stop that giant, scary-looking alien thing that came from space. I remember you explaining how it was planting weird tendrils into the ground, infecting our home with its essence. Between trying to uproot the demonic thing’s extensions, trying to identify what it was, and figuring out a way to send it back, days just blurred together. Our best bet was using the Chaos Emeralds. We needed at least 3 of us to go Super!”

The blue idiot and Silver had been on board with the idea from the very start. No hesitation, no second-guessing—just blind confidence and that same reckless optimism they always carried into every battle. The moment the plan was laid out, they were already set on seeing it through, no matter the risks.

They wanted me there too, convinced that my presence would somehow tip the scales in their favor. As if one more fighter in the mix would magically erase all the ways this could go wrong. But I wasn’t buying it. I saw the flaws, the danger, the sheer stupidity of what they were about to do. So I told them exactly what I thought: it was a bad idea. No, worse—it was stupid.

But they didn’t listen. They never did.

They were so sure, so convinced that just the two of them would be enough, even when it was clear 3 would be our “best” bet. That their strength, their speed, and their stubborn determination would be all they needed.

No backup, no safety net. Just blind faith that everything would work out in their favor.

I knew better.

Remembering that conversation filled me with rage. It boiled my blood and crawled under my fur and skin… I was furious. It filled me with fury, filled me with clarity that what happened was the result of their recklessness, and it wasn’t my fault.

It filled me with… a drowning guilt. 

Maybe if I were there… Maybe if I shared their blind confidence, even for a moment… then maybe.

“The day finally came… The creature blocked out the sun, everything was so dark, it was like night fell on our home.” I saw her shaking. “I remember those tendrils, the ones that were stuck and we couldn’t uproot because they got so big, they began to open and beasts came out of them… They looked like the demon thing, but smaller and faster. We had to fight them too, they were attacking villagers, so we had to deal with them and with that… thing.”

I glanced at Miles, studying his expression. Even now, after all these years, I had a feeling he still hadn’t figured it out. No matter how much research he had done, no matter how deep he had dug, the answer remained just out of reach.

It wasn’t for a lack of trying—I knew that much. Miles was nothing if not meticulous, relentless when it came to solving a mystery. And yet, the truth continued to evade him. After all, to anyone who had been involved in that fight, it was still labeled the same way it had always been—a U.I.B. An Unidentified Invasive Being. A mystery that refused to be solved.

“The glowing white eyes, the fact that when it screamed, it was both silent and so deafening at the same time… He was trying so hard to save everyone, because that’s what he does! He was getting hurt too; the underlings were strong, and their claws were sharp, but he would always gain another scar or two if it meant he could save someone’s lives. Sonic saved me from getting captured by the thing’s minions so many times.”

…Did she not know I was the one who saved her from those things most times…? It was very dark during the fight.

“I remember I was working with Rouge and Blaze during the final battle, my hammer never squashed so many enemies in one day! My arms felt weak, my whole body felt weak. Tired. But also strangely numb, like nothing else mattered except for fighting. It was like my body was on autopilot. We finally gathered all 7 chaos emeralds, and we all agreed it was time to send this creature back from wherever it came. We had to make do with two of our friends. Truth be told… I didn’t want Sonic to go. I didn’t want him to do this. It was far too risky. Someone mentioned that it was too dangerous, after all, we had no idea what this thing was capable of outside of what we gathered in such a short time.”

I looked at Rose again. Her eyes were distant. She wasn’t here. She was somewhere else. She was stuck on that day.

“I was… so tired. I really thought we were going to lose for a second there… Then,” she stared at her new shoes, “Sonic ran ahead. He and Silver with the Chaos Emeralds. One moment they were normal, the next, they were both Super. Then…” Her eyes lost their life. “He was gone…”

Miles removed his glasses and rubbed the bridge of his nose. I couldn’t tell if he was frustrated or if he was trying to find a flaw or clue in Rose’s memories. However, I wasn’t concerned over his frustration. My focus was on her.

“Amy-”

“But it’s okay now!” Like a switch that’s been flipped, she was back to her cheerful self. “Because Sonic is back! He came back and fought for two years to come home! Now, I know you probably have a LOT of questions to ask him! Like how he’s been! Where he went exactly and how he came back! I’m honestly curious to know how as well!”

My heart dropped.

Sure, I knew this question would come eventually—I had planned for it, but had I really planned for it? Now that the question was staring me in the face, I realized just how unprepared I truly was.

I had run through this moment in my head a hundred times, maybe more. But all those imagined scenarios felt useless now. What was I supposed to say? Would my words even be believable? Would they ease her worries, or only make things worse?

Doubt clawed at me, twisting my thoughts into knots. Should I just come clean now? Would it be better to get it over with? If I told her the truth here and now, at least Miles would be here to support her—to help her process everything. Or would she even believe me?

But would that really make it any easier? Or would it just shatter everything in an instant?

“Amy,” Miles’s voice cut through the short silence. He put his lenses back on. He sat down and gently took her hand as if he was going to admit the truth and try to get her to see through her delusions. Would he actually ? Was this version of “help”? I turned away. I didn’t want to see the look in her eyes. “Are… Are we– are YOU certain this is the Sonic we know? The Sonic from our world?”

My eyes drifted to Silver on the screen, who had been suspiciously silent through the talk. He looked almost unsure. 

So he did know… Miles DID tell him .

“Tails, I know you probably have your doubts… It’s been so long, and I know you like doing your little tests to make sure something is real, but I know my Sonic! He’s as real as you and me! I would have thought you would know when he came to see you!”

Something in his posture shifted… uncertainty. Maybe a bit of restraint. Like he wanted to shout, but he was holding back that volume. I understood his want- his need for clarification. Miles looked at me, that same, displeased look… I stared back. It was the same look he offered me ever since that night. 

However, when he turned to me, I nodded.

I pulled out a photograph.

His photo .

The one I watched her clutch onto the first day I visited her. He was still smiling, still giving a thumbs up like everything was fine… It was only about two weeks ago, but my feelings then were so different from what they are now.

I handed the photo to Miles, and he stared at it longingly. He probably had a hundred times as many photos of this blue fool, but this one meant something to Rose, and it clearly meant something to Miles.

“Here…” he handed the photograph to Rose, careful with both his gesture and his tone. “Can you confirm my suspicions. Is this our Sonic?”

Rose took the photo that should have been so familiar to her. Who knows how long she had it for? Maybe ever since that day, she had clutched onto the picture and never let it go. She stared at the photo of her beloved hedgehog, his smile, his eyes, his light that shone through even across a still image.

She stared.

And stared.

And stared.

And-

“ That’s not Sonic …”

“ What ?” Silver, Miles, and I said in unison, but I questioned it under my breath.

Miles was quick to take the photo back and stared at it for only a few seconds, but shook his head almost in disbelief himself. “No, this is a picture of Sonic, see? Can you not…” His eyes darted between the photo, Rose, and I, as if he was trying to find something wrong with what she said, and frankly, I felt the same. He forced the photo back at her, trying to get her to see something that should have been obvious. Something that should have given the truth away.

“It… It looks ALMOST like Sonic but…” Something about her tone, something in her eye, something empty. Something she dreaded. Unmistakable and feared. “The look in those eyes, that smile… It’s unnatural. The Sonic I know- that’s not him. It’s some impostor, maybe.”

I felt sick…

I could tell by the way Miles looked that he also felt sick.

I glanced up at Silver on the screen. He didn’t look surprised, but he didn't look pleased either.

“Amy-”

She handed– almost shoved the photo back to Miles and looked at me, slight panic in her eyes. That was new. I hadn’t seen that panic since she was on her knees that first night. “Sonic? You know that’s not a picture of you! Is that thing wandering around and pretending to be you?”

I only reached out an inch, but it was enough for Rose to pull herself close to me, as if shielding herself from the “impostor”. From the truth?

If only I could tell her… The real impostor was the one she sought comfort from. I had to tell her. 

It will hurt her.

That voice. If I don't tell her now, I won't be able to come back from this.

It will hurt her.

Miles is here. Silver is there. They can help her. I could run and not look back. Run until I can't anymore. Until I know I'm a safe distance from the monster I made.

Monster?

Me. I have to tell her.

Shadow.

Now…

“I’m not S-”

“I know! I know you’re not the hedgehog in that photo…” her voice calmed but sharply cut through my confession, “I have been feeling like something is off. Like something is roaming in my house or this world that doesn't belong. I thought it was just me being paranoid ever since... that fight… and if this thing is around, pretending to be you, I’ll make sure it doesn’t bother you. I'll make sure it doesn't hurt you! I’ll squash them and make them ever regret trying to replace you!”

Woah… Okay . Strong woman… I forget about that sometimes…

Nice …

“Ahem...Miles.”

“...right. Sorry, I just… I needed…” he removed his glasses again and pinched the bridge of his nose… again.

He looked so tired.

I placed a hand on Rose’s shoulder and rubbed it, easing the tension in her muscles that had flared up. “May we have a minute?”

She didn’t seem surprised. Understanding washed over her face as she stood up straight. She knew only he could talk some sense and calm down the fox, and while I wasn’t him, I would try. At least, I’m positive that’s what she is thinking.  “Of course.” She let me go, and I almost wanted to pull her back.

Almost…

I shifted my gaze to Silver, on the screen, who seemed to understand completely what I needed him to do at that moment. “Oh! Hey, Amy! Want to know what I found out the other week? I think you’ll find it exciting! It's about flowers from the future!”

“Um, sure? Didn't know you all had flowers 200 years in the future!” 

Miles and I quietly moved away, putting a safe distance between ourselves and Rose—and more importantly, the screen where she was fully focused on Silver. We kept our voices low, careful not to draw any attention. Whatever this conversation was going to be, it needed to stay between us.

I could tell he was already bracing himself, his arms crossed and his gaze fixed on the floor like it held the answers he didn’t have. Still, I had to ask the question—the one that had been gnawing at the back of my mind since all of this started.

“So… what’s wrong with her? You've seen firsthand what's been going on and what she sees. I've seen you lurking around, watching us. Her. Watching her. You do know what's going on, right? You know what caused this, yes?" He didn't look up, kept staring at his shoes. "Miles. How do we fix her?”

His head jerked up slightly, his eyes flashing with a frustration and helplessness that I didn't recognize from him. “I don’t know!”

Well. There it was. The truth I didn’t want to hear but knew was coming.

I sighed quietly, shoulders sagging. I still had to ask, even if I knew he didn’t have ALL the answers. Even if none of us did. I hoped he knew something.

“Well, what do her results say?” Gesturing to the clipboard that was clutched in his hands, he brought it with him when I suggested we move away, and he began to scan through the numbers and words he jotted down.

His eyes traced whatever nonsense he wrote down, being careful with his words, and he drew a finger to his lenses. “Well, it’s clear that she’s dealing with a lot of anxiety, maybe even some paranoia,” Miles spoke with a calm tone, but I could sense it was edged with concern. “And… she was severely depressed. That much was obvious to anyone who spent more than a few minutes with her. You could see it in the way she spoke, the way she moved, like everything took more effort than it should. Like she was carrying something too heavy to put down.”

He paused for a moment, letting the weight of his words settle before continuing. This was his friend, after all, and he was losing them one by one. “She’s scored high on every assessment I’ve run. Textbook signs of someone battling serious mental health struggles. But, as much as it irks me to admit, it does seem like she’s gotten better in some regards thanks to you. And while ‘his’ return might have given her some comfort and likely improved a lot already, that alone isn’t going to magically fix everything. It’s not like flipping a switch. She's clearly not herself.”

Miles exhaled, folding his arms as he glanced in her direction. “She’s going to need time. A lot of it. She’ll need help readjusting, re-learning what it means to feel safe. There might be outbursts. Emotional days. Moments when things get overwhelming, when she shuts down or lashes out. That’s all part of the process.”

He turned back to me, his eyes serious. “Which means being patient with her is going to be more important than anything else, and that takes more than time.”

“What about her… seeing me as him . And that photo? What does she mean by what she said?” I turned to look at Rose. She was smiling at the screen, Silver probably said something wholesome or something stupid, and I’m leaning towards the latter. She looked like her old self. Why was it that she could see Silver as himself? Hadn’t she once mistaken him for her hero too?

“I don’t know…”

That's not what I wanted to hear. “You’re her friend, you are smarter than any Mobian I know, than most humans I’ve known. Met dozens of weird cases. What do you mean you don’t know what’s wrong with her?”

“I-I just don’t know.”

“Miles-”

“I don’t know!!!” He lashed out, “Okay! I don’t know! I’m an engineer! Not a neurologist!! I invent things, I learn and teach physics, and I know a lot about interdimensional cracks between universes! Not the mental decline of the brain and how to reverse severe psychological damage!”

The frustration within his tone was evident as he really wasn’t sure what to do to help the situation. Rose was far too gone at this point, and we had no idea if it was mendable, reversible, or even treatable. It wasn't something like the flu, where some bed rest and hot soup would help her body fight off the virus. This was something beyond both of us.

“The closest thing I could think of could be… Capgras syndrome? I read about it in a book once. She firmly believes that Sonic in the photo is an impostor, someone who looks like him but isn’t him… But that doesn’t explain why she firmly believes you’re the real Sonic, and it doesn’t explain how it originated! Isolation can deteriorate the mind, and depression probably had something to do with it… but she hasn’t been diagnosed, this is all just speculation.”

I listened carefully. I had to understand him. I wanted to understand her . “So what now?”

We both simultaneously turned toward Rose again, who was still talking to Silver on the screen. At least he seemed to be calming her down from the previous affairs. She didn’t even seem to notice us or our looks of concern. How fear dripped from our faces.

“Well… I could do more research… Amy’s condition is a priority for now. Searching for Sonic is on pause on my end… but at least Silver is still looking… I think...” He sat back on his hover chair and twiddled with his thumbs as if trying to find more certainty within himself. “For now… the best I can suggest would be to… play along .” The words felt like they were forced from him.

“Play along…?”

“It’s best not to argue with someone like Amy when she’s like this. The last thing we want is for her to wake up when her brain is not ready, and for her to lose it, past the point of no return. Correcting her could cause her to spiral even further or cause probable aggression. I’m guessing she’s been attached to you since you visited her.”

It wasn’t a question, but it might as well be, and my silence was confirmation enough. There were moments when we were both apart, but it was never more than an hour or so. When we’re too far apart or I’m gone for too long, she gets rather emotional. Never aggressive, but she had one or two outbursts, and it had only been 2 weeks. She was constantly there, and sometimes, it was overbearing, but never a nuisance. She needed me, and I would always be there for her. “I know she needs the stability I could provide.”

Miles exhaled through his nose and looked at me, for once, without that disappointed gaze. “Right well… Continue to keep an eye on her, play the role of Sonic carefully , and report to me weekly if there are any changes in her behavior. Explain to her closest about her condition. Make her feel safe in her own home and try to ensure proper boundaries, too. Her always being there isn’t healthy for either of you. Sonic was-... Sonic is… he’s the kind of guy who would make sure all his friends are okay.”

But I wasn't him...

“So... That’s the plan?”

“ For now … That’s the plan for now .”

Chapter Text

Maria had always loved looking at the stars from the ARK.

Out there, high above the Earth’s surface, far removed from cities and noise and everything that cluttered the sky down below, the stars were clearer than anything I’d ever seen. There were no clouds to drift in the way, no artificial lights to dull their shine. Just the pure, endless stretch of space—dark and beautiful—dotted with countless tiny lights that seemed to go on forever.

Maria would press her face to the glass sometimes, hands clasped behind her back, completely enchanted by the view. She never got tired of it, no matter how many times we stood in that same spot looking out. To her, the stars weren’t just balls of gas or points on a map—they were something more.

She used to call them “the night’s freckles.”

I remember the first time she said it, pointing up at them like seeing magic for the first time. Her voice was soft, full of wonder.

—--

“Come! You have to look at them,” she whispered. She rushed past the many hallways and corridors that were so familiar to us at this point. Her hand holding mine, a touch so gentle and warm, firm in my own hands. She had the kindest smile, and her eyes had that spark that never got old.

She let out the softest giggle, like wind chimes dancing in a breeze, and tugged gently on my hand, guiding me to a large window bathed in darkness. Without a word, she knelt down gracefully, pulling me beside her until we were both leaning close to the cool glass. Her fingers spread out against the pane, leaving faint prints as she leaned forward, eyes wide with wonder.

I followed her gaze, expecting something—anything—unusual. But all I saw was the same quiet void that never acknowledged our existence. The sky stretched endlessly around us, a velvet curtain speckled with pinpricks that meant nothing.

There was nothing out of the ordinary.

Just the stars.

“The stars!” Her soft voice cut through the vacuum. 

“It’s just stars…”

She turned to look at me, a gentle smile blooming on her face. “Yeah, but they’re so magical,” she whispered, scooting closer until her knees were at the edge, also pressed against the glass. “I bet they’re even more beautiful from Earth… But up here, it’s always night, so the stars never leave. They’re always there, always watching. And somehow, I never get tired of seeing them shine.”

I tilted my head, thoughtful. “Hmm… The professor told us once that on Earth, the stars sparkle like little diamonds scattered across the sky, flickering and dancing with the atmosphere’s breath. I don’t know about that.”

Maria nodded slowly, her gaze drifting back to the heavens beyond the glass; she also recalled that conversation. “But up here…”

“They’re just stationed,” I finished softly, as if knowing her thoughts. “Still. Like they’re frozen in time.”

She turned to me, half of her face glittered from the light of the ARK and stars.

“Grandfather says that’s because of the light reflecting from Earth’s atmosphere. He also says they are so much more breathtaking down there. Up here, we always see them, but down on Earth, they’re a treasure we don’t appreciate enough once the sun shifts.”

I couldn’t help but stare. “They’re always there.”

“Yes, they are, and it's like we take them for granted. I wouldn’t want to imagine a world where I look up at the sky and there are no stars to stare back. They’re important! They’re beautiful. They add the right amount of magic and wonder to our sky. It’s like… It’s like the night has freckles!”

—--

And from then on, that’s what they were to me—not stars, not constellations, but little marks of beauty scattered across the face of the universe. Every time I see the stars now on Earth, especially from a quiet place far from the noise, I can still hear her voice calling them that.

If only she got to see them shine from down here.

Down here on Earth, the stars looked the same as they always had. Cold, constant, and quietly beautiful. They hadn’t changed. Hadn’t shifted.

They hadn’t cared.

The sky didn’t weep for her. The stars didn’t flicker in mourning. The universe simply went on, indifferent to the loss of the one girl who had adored it with all her heart—the same way she had adored Earth, with wonder and kindness and a love that never ran dry.

Maria had loved the stars like they were her own, whispering to them through the thick glass of the ARK, imagining names for each one, telling stories about the constellations from books she read, as if they were old friends. 

Sometimes, there were these “falling stars”, she’d say, where, on Earth, it’s like seeing stars fly across the sky. Some would make wishes on them. Maria would sometimes say it’s like the sky is crying, and we don’t know why. Maybe someone important joined the stars, and the sky is paying its tributes.

The stars would shine a little less, she’d say, at least, that’s what she’d hope.

But now, with her gone… they just kept shining.

I used to hope—foolishly—that maybe while I was under, a new star had been born the night she died. That somewhere, quietly, the universe had made room for her. That if I stared up long enough, I’d find it. Her star. A soft, glowing mark in the sky to tell me she was still out there somehow, part of something bigger.

But that kind of comfort never came.

There were no new stars. No sudden brilliance breaking through the dark to offer meaning in the silence. It was just a story told to children. A sweet, hollow tale meant to ease the pain of loss when there was nothing else to say.

And as much as I wanted to believe in it… I knew better.

Maria was gone, and the stars, for all their beauty, were silent.

There were no crying stars, flashing through the sky either. No falling stars.

Even if I closed my eyes, they would be the same, no matter how much I wished. Even if I closed my eyes, they would be the same—distant, cold, unchanging—no matter how much I wished they’d shift, flicker, or burn just a little brighter for her. I wanted them to feel different. I wanted the sky to ache the way I did.

They just… stayed, as if nothing had changed.

But everything had changed.

She gave me a second chance—a chance to breathe again, to stand beneath the sky and feel the wind, to live. Not just exist, but live . And I swore to myself, with every piece of whatever was left of my heart, that I wouldn’t waste it. That I’d fight, strive, be —for her. I’d be damned if I let that gift go unanswered, let the stars look down on me with disappointment... especially if they didn’t weep when she was gone.

However, if she were here now, I wonder what she would say if she saw me like this. Wearing a mask I crafted out of guilt and maybe greed. Walking through this life like a ghost wrapped in flesh, pretending to be something I'm not. Pretending to be many things.

Pretending to be a hero. Pretending to be a man who people need but can’t be. Pretending to be a man, as if I also didn’t die the day she did.

Pretending to be okay about all of this.

She’d hate me.

If someone came up to me, smiling and speaking as if they were her—if someone dared to pretend they were Maria… I’d be consumed with rage. I’d tear the lie apart before it could take another breath. So why… why am I doing the very same thing for Rose? To all of his friends.

Chaos. Why am I such a hypocrite? I act like they shouldn’t be too surprised, but I know better. They all probably secretly hate me for what I’m doing just to appease her . And want to know what’s funny?

If it were ANYONE else in the position of Rose, if anyone else had mistaken me for him and they asked me to play along, I’d correct them in an instant. I’d refuse to play the part of a fallen hero. I was anything but.

Rose would be beyond furious if she knew.

She’d hate me.

Every time I look in the mirror, I see the shell of who I once was—and the stranger I’ve become. I wear his jacket, carry his name, act a role I despise, and still, I carry his memory like armor, even though I know he'd never want this. They wouldn’t want this. Maria wouldn’t want this. Not this hollow imitation of life. She’d want more for me. She always did.

But maybe I’ve forgotten how to want more for myself.

Sigh.

I sat alone on the rooftop of Rose’s quiet home, legs folded beneath me, arms resting limply on my knees. Inside, she was resting; outside, I was regaining composure. The night stretched wide and silent around me, save for the distant murmurs of a world still turning—cars humming faintly on streets far below or the occasional rustle of wind brushing against the trees. Life moved on, untouched and unaware of the storm inside me.

I didn’t know what I was waiting for. Maybe a sign. Maybe forgiveness. Maybe something… more.

The stars blinked above once more, cold and far away, like silent watchers who refused to speak. I tilted my head back and closed my eyes, drawing in a breath that felt heavier than air should be. I reached up, fingers trembling slightly, and brushed my face, wiping away thoughts that clung like unwanted dust. I smoothed my quills back, as if that simple act could tidy the mess behind my eyes.

“ Enough of this,” I whispered inwardly. Enough of drowning in regrets and ghosts. I told myself, again, that I had to be strong—that I would be strong. Even if it hurt. Even if I didn’t believe it. I had to be for her, and right now, Rose was all that mattered.

This… this moment, this silence, this ache—it wouldn’t last forever. At least, that’s what I tried to believe. Time moves, people heal, and wounds scar over. It won’t be forever. The pain won’t last. The fury I felt long ago was gone when Rose was there to remind me, and even if a part of me doubted myself, I knew this act wouldn’t last too long.

And when that day came—when I could finally stand tall again—I’d make it right. I’d make it up to all of them who deserved it.

To Miles, who still looked at me like I was someone worth trusting. To the echidna, whose loyalty to the blue fool ran deeper than I deserved to taste. To Silver, who carried the weight of the future on his back but never stopped believing in us all.

But most of all, to Rose… whose home gave me shelter, whose kindness cut through the darkness like a flicker of light I didn’t know I needed, whose heart rivaled my rage.

Who was waiting for a man who would never come?

Someday, I’d repay them for every ounce of patience they gave me. For every moment they stood by me when I didn’t even know how to stand by myself.

But tonight, I sat in silence with the stars. Still. Waiting.

Maybe I should-

“Hey, handsome~”

I shut my eyes tightly, ducking my head down until my forehead pressed against my knee, trying to hide from the sudden, bubbling heat rising in my stomach. Anger? Guilt? I wasn’t even sure what it was anymore—just that it burned and twisted in ways I didn’t want to deal with. Not right now.

The last person I wanted to hear from at a moment like this was Rouge. She had a way of getting under my skin—too observant, too sharp with her words, always knowing exactly where to poke. And yet… a part of me knew it was time. I couldn’t avoid her forever.

As much as I hated to admit it, if anyone was going to say what needed to be said, it was probably her.

“ Hmm …”

“It’s been a while. Haven’t seen you around at HQ in over two weeks! I was slightly worried that something had happened to my favorite hedgehog without me being in the loop of it all!” She fluttered around, flying in place just outside my view. She probably wanted me to turn and face her- or rather, face the reality that constantly threatened to swallow me into the ground. “I mean, being gone for one day, I could understand if you were off on your little ‘finding myself and who I really am’ existential solo-adventures, but two whole weeks without a heads-up? I was really considering telling the others at G.U.N. that you fell off the face of the Earth! It would be much easier than explaining this!” 

I focused on the sound of the wind blowing rather than the sound of her voice. But it’s much easier said than done. Rouge has a way to make you forget about everything else and tune in to the things she has to say. She was the oldest one, apart from me, beating Knuckles by a few months, but if you tell her that she’s old, she will remind you never to say that again. I suffered one too many kicks because of that. That being said… She has that way of commanding attention.

“So consider my shock when I spoke to Tails earlier tonight and found out that you were here the whole time! With Amy no less.” I heard her heels hit the shingles on the roof, and her shadow loomed over me, blocking out the barely-there moonlight. “Having an extended sleepover or something? Is there something going on between you two that I should know about?” Her tone was sweet like honey, but a trap was also beneath its sticky layer. “Or maybe you just wanted to spend some time under the stars! I heard something special is going to happen tonight, I wouldn’t blame you for staying up past your bedtime~.”

“What do you want, Rouge?”

“Oh, he speaks, thank goodness… I was worried I was speaking to the dea-”

I turned toward her and narrowed my eyes, a sharper-than-needed glare caused her to drop the sweet act, something she only really did when she knew I wasn’t in the mood for her games.

“What do you want , Rouge?” I repeated myself, much colder and much sharper.

“Just wanted my partner in crime back! But I also want to know your reason for staying with Amy for such an extended period of time. Correct me if I’m wrong, but this is the first time you’ve visited her ever since we lost Sonic. You came up with every excuse in the book to avoid seeing her, and now I hear you are living with her?”

I turned back. “It’s temporary-”

“Is it?”

I clenched my fists, feeling the fabric of my gloves stretch against the strain. My jaw was tight, my pulse louder than it had any right to be. Rouge stood right behind me, likely arms crossed, that ever-infuriating smirk or disappointed frown tugging at the corner of her lips. She was my closest ally—had been for years, but that didn’t mean she made things easy. If anything, she had a talent for pressing every single one of my buttons, especially the ones I tried hardest to keep buried.

She wasn’t afraid to poke where no one else dared, only the blue fool would attempt but never get far, and now, she was looking at me with that calculating gaze, like she was already ten steps ahead in a game I didn’t want to play.

“Yes,” I said flatly, forcing my voice to stay even. “Rose just needs someone to stay with her for a few weeks. She’s… she’s not doing well, and I just so happen to be the best option for her right now. Miles even said so, and I respect his word.”

There was a pause; a long one. Not the kind of pause where someone is surprised or confused, it was the kind that’s soaked in knowing silence—the kind where the air itself feels heavier, like it’s bearing witness to a lie.

Rouge didn’t say a word. She didn’t need to. She knew I wasn’t telling the truth. And worse—she knew I knew she knew.

Torturously, she said nothing. She just stood behind me, and even if it didn’t make a sound, I knew she had one eyebrow arched ever so slightly, watching me dig a hole I had no idea how to climb out of. 

However, deep down… I knew she was lying, too. She had been, for years.

She visited Rose plenty of times. Every single time. “ Rose is doing alright.”

Maybe not always with her words—but with her deflections, her silences, her conveniently timed disappearances. Every time I asked, every time I reached out for more than what she was willing to give, she slipped away behind charm and half-truths.

So why now?

Why was she staring at me like I was the one who owed her answers? I was sick of pretending. Sick of her tiptoeing around the obvious. I didn’t need her to call me out—I needed her to be honest.

Why, Rouge?

“Why have you been lying to me?”

She gave a half-laugh, meaning she wasn’t amused or surprised by my question. “What could you possibly mean?”

I stood up, careful not to slide down the roof where it slanted enough to cause the average Mobian to falter. “Rose is not well. She’s- she’s different, and you never said a word to me.”

“Why would I have to tell you every little bit and detail on someone you hardly pay two cents to? Amy is my friend, not yours.”

The words were like an insult. Worse than any slap in the face.

“You’re avoiding my question.”

She sighed, almost dramatically, which only angered me more. She’s putting on a mask again. “Shadow, you are so pushy!”

“Rouge…”

“Can’t a girl keep a secret or two from even her closest friend just to save them from unnecessary stress? From worry?” Rouge had that playful lilt in her voice—the kind that danced on the edge of teasing but always carried a deeper weight beneath it.

I paused. The words lingered in the air longer than they should’ve, pressing gently against a truth I hadn’t wanted to face.

Stress…

I couldn’t deny how right she was about that.

There were days—fleeting, precious moments—where I almost believed things would be okay. Where the world felt manageable , and I could breathe without feeling like the walls were closing in. Days where the sky looked a little clearer, and the silence in my mind didn’t feel like it was suffocating me. Nights when the stars did shine as bright.

I wanted to believe life would sort itself out, that everything would fall into place eventually. Where Rose would one day return to her normal self. See me as who I am, all of me. A dream where she would hold me and forgive me. I clung to that hope like a lifeline, even if it was fraying like withered rope.

But those moments were rare. More often than not, I felt like I was drowning in my own thoughts, thick like glue. The weight of the unknown, the guilt I carried, the endless spiral of what-ifs —they wrapped around my chest like chains, squeezing until it felt like I could barely breathe. 

The anxiety had a grip on me that I couldn't shake. It wasn’t loud or obvious. It was quiet—almost creeping. A steady knot in my stomach that never truly left. Some nights, I couldn’t eat. Other nights, I couldn’t sleep, even if I tried. 

Even when I was with Rose—even with her warm presence beside me, even when her voice soothed some of the noise—I still felt the ache of something unresolved gnawing inside me. It definitely didn’t help that Rose seemed to stress my heart out.

Maybe Rouge had seen that in the five minutes she was interrogating me. I knew she knew more than she let on. Maybe, in her own twisted way, she had been trying to protect me.

But secrets have a way of growing in the dark, warping until they don’t look like protection anymore.

Shield or not, I had to keep going. For Rose.

I couldn’t afford to fall apart now.

I took another deep breath. “Rose is not well. She’s… having some mental health struggles. She’s having some delusional moments-” That was a stretch. A harsh one. I immediately regretted the choice of words, but I couldn’t take them back now, so I softened my tone. “-She’s depressed. Withdrawn. She’s not at all herself. You know that, don’t you? You had to have seen it whenever you made your visits. Yet, you tell me time and time again that she’s doing alright, just mourning in her own way, and doesn’t want to be out right now. And you couldn’t bother to tell me? Not even a word? Not even a warning?”

My voice was cracking just enough to betray the weight behind it. Rouge’s previous smirk was gone now. She genuinely looked… pained? Not like she was caught in a lie, like she really didn’t want me to know, or she was shocked that I was this concerned. “You didn’t think I deserved to know how she had been? That maybe, just maybe, I could help? She’s been slipping through the cracks right in front of us, and you just… let it happen. You watched it happen, and you said nothing. ”

I took a step forward. Rouge took a few steps back. I took another step forward. Now it was my turn to watch as the guilt seeped into her features. 

“Do you honestly take me for heartless? Selfish?”

“Of course not.” The words were barely above a whisper, but they were there. They were strong and they were true. “Shadow… I know you’re not the type to fight for anyone who isn’t yourself, but I know you care. Even back then, when you refused to go with Silver and Sonic, I didn’t see you as selfish for wanting to stay, in case things went south. I know you have your reasons, and they are not selfish, no matter what others say. No matter what you believe now.”

How could I have been so selfish…?

I stared ahead. I searched for any signs of falsehood in her face or statement. There was nothing, so I turned away again. “I could’ve done something to help her. I should’ve done something. Do you have any idea how that feels? To find out too late that someone you care about has been drowning while you were standing on the shore, completely unaware?”

Her lips pressed into a thin line… Of course, she knew the pain… what a stupid question to ask. “You really do care about her…”

My eyelids shut, heavy with truth. “Of course I do. Rose is my friend.”

The sound of her heels made light clinking sounds against the shingles as she stood beside me. I could feel her eyes on me, reading me like a book. She had a knack for doing that when others didn’t.

“No.” My eyes opened at the sound of her cold tone. “Amy is Sonic’s friend, and you can pretend to be him all you want, do the things he did, say the things he said, even wear his clothes and live in his house, but it doesn’t mean anything. It doesn’t mean his friends are yours. His bonds are yours to carry on like some torch. Nothing has changed between you and Amy.”

I couldn’t even groan in annoyance because she was right.

Shadow. She is your friend.

Would she consider me, Shadow the Hedgehog, her friend?

Of course she would…

Why are you lying to me?

“If she’s not my friend, then what would you call it?”

“I don’t know, you tell me. It’s not friendship. A friend would check in on her regularly while she was mourning. A friend would get her help immediately, given the circumstances she’s undergoing. A friend would be honest up front instead of constantly lying to her face. A friend wouldn’t try to one-up another. Especially if they’re dead.”

The stars were waiting for my response. Almost as if they knew too.

“She’s…” What is she? She was a little bit of everything. She could somehow calm me and clear my head, yet drive my instincts on high alert at the same time, making everything foggy and blurry when she’s in danger. She’s loud and proud, yet she’s as gentle as a butterfly landing on a morning dewdrop. Even when she’s doing something as simple as fixing her garden, I can’t help but watch and wonder if she’s okay, even if she’s perfectly safe. I learned early on that even the Ultimate Lifeform can’t save everyone.

She would never let anyone put her down or make her feel less than just because she’s not as strong or as fast as another. Not her hero. Not Eggman. Not even I.

She reminded me that the world was worth saving. I made a promise to her… and Maria. It was her influence, her personality, her whimsical hope for a hopeless world that allowed me to see past my anger and hate. The world Maria loved, Rose loved all the same. Maria would have loved Rose… A world where the stars glittered like diamonds, fell when the sky mourned, and birthed miracles. A world where people like her seemed to live among us like stars.

She was a fool who was waiting for someone who constantly ran away.

While I was right there.

“She’s my friend.”

Rouge blinked slowly, but her expression remained unreadable—stationed, composed, the perfect mask of indifference. But I knew her well enough to catch the subtle shifts—the slight twitch of her fingers, the stiffness in her posture. Still, her voice came out smooth and dismissive, like she was brushing off a dust mote. A single laugh.

“Hmph! Okay, Shadow,” her tone was almost disappointed, even if her lips curled into a smirk. “If you want to keep telling yourself that, go ahead. I won’t stop you. I can’t convince you of anything if you haven’t even convinced yourself.”

There was a razor hidden in her words, and it cut deeper than I let on. 

I glared at her, but there was no resentment in my gaze. “Now… answer my question.”

She looked away for a moment, just long enough for a flicker of guilt to flash in her eyes before it disappeared behind her usual veil of calm. Her arms folded across her chest, more in self-defense than defiance.

“I didn’t want you to worry about Amy.” Somehow, her tone was even quieter than before. “You already had too much on your plate, we all did—dealing with unfinished business, losing a good friend, cleaning up what was left of a war that didn’t even belong to you.” She laughed, but it was hollow. She looked up, and from where we were, we could see the silhouette of Angel Island. “You didn’t even have time to mourn Sonic by the time we had won. You just… moved on. Like you always do. Tucked it away, buried it somewhere deep inside, and told yourself that accepting it was enough. It hurt more to see how little you seemed to care. You didn’t even show up to his memorial service for the locals, and excused it for ‘not wanting to make a possible scene’. As if anyone would pick a fight with you during something that wasn’t even about you…”

… There was… nothing to mourn. My eyes drifted down again, refusing to meet her in the eye.

Her voice trembled then, just slightly. “But it’s not, Shadow. Accepting it is not enough. You didn’t mourn him—you refused to. You treated his death like just another mission report instead of a tragedy. Just another line in a long file of losses when really, we all were suffering something much more than we could handle, and it was hard to see you push it down like it didn’t matter. You didn’t even help his friends during the hardest days, and spent them fighting off our villains, as if that justified your absence, and you waltzed back when things settled down enough.”

I flinched. She wasn’t wrong.

“When you started visiting them, it was hard all over again. Call me a hypocrite all you want… Amy was one I knew you’d likely not see willingly, so I… I did lie. But I did it because, like I said, you were carrying the weight of something gone. I didn’t tell you about Amy because it’s hard to accept. Some days, she was fine, still believing Sonic would come back, but who could convince her otherwise? Then, some days, she would scream-cry for hours in my arms like someone had ripped her heart out. Until her vocals gave out, where talking would hurt her. I didn’t tell you about Amy because I knew it’d break something in you seeing her like that,” Rouge continued. “And you… You don’t have many pieces left. I watched you carry everyone else’s burdens on your shoulders, like you were made for it. But you’re not. You’re not invincible. You ran and came back…” She looked up at me again, I could sense it, eyes softer now, and I hated how much they saw. “And I thought—maybe if I could carry this one thing for you, just for a little while, maybe I could spare you. Just a little pain. Just a little more time.”

I turned and faced her again.

Rouge offered me a small smile, but it was broken, a rarity even for her. “But I was wrong, wasn’t I?” Her voice cracked. Seeing Rouge upset hurt me more than I cared to admit.

I offered my shoulder like it was second-hand nature, and she took the bait. I wasn’t used to giving comfort, but then again, Rouge wasn’t one to show her own vulnerable side. Maybe that’s why we were good at working together.

For a moment, we both just stood there, relishing in each other’s presence. She needed me. That, I could do while being myself. When everyone else was falling apart, Rouge held them all together. Rouge told Miles about what happened… Rouge helped calm the echidna from wearing himself down. Rouge held onto Rose when she was breaking, it seemed. Rouge was now holding me as I held her.

“But… you’re wrong about Sonic and Amy.”

My ears flattened instinctively, a cold prickle rushing down my spine as something tight and unfamiliar began to form in my throat. It was like swallowing broken glass—sharp, sudden, and impossible to ignore. My voice faltered, barely a whisper, but I forced the words out anyway, even as dread curled in my stomach like smoke. “What do you mean?”

Rouge almost shook her head, but instead took my hand and gave it a squeeze. She didn’t even raise her head, let alone raise her voice, but her words hit me almost like a slap to the face.

“Sonic loved Amy. Really loved her. Maybe he never said it out loud, but why do you think Amy was waiting day after day for him, like she always said?”

She couldn’t be telling the truth… “Because she’s a fool in love with someone who was never going to appreciate her.”

I said what I had to, even though I felt another tear in my chest.

Another imperfection?

No… this one felt different…

Rouge lifted her head now, her eyes no longer showing that sympathy that I might have needed. “No. That’s what you are convincing yourself to believe. Sonic and Amy might have never announced it or made it official, but everyone pretty much knew. Everyone, apart from you.”

… What ?

“I mean, come on, even you cannot deny it, the way Amy always cooks for Sonic, how she takes care of him when he’s sick, how she celebrates his accomplishments. Sonic always speaks fondly of her, showers her with gifts from his adventures, and says that no matter the time of day or what’s going on, Sonic will always be there to save her. Maybe when they were kids, he saw her presence as a nuisance, but he really came to appreciate her as a person, and not just what she could offer. We’re not the same as we were 10 years ago, Shadow.”

That… no. He didn’t…

She must have seen the look on my face, but instead of stopping, Rouge seemed to make it her mission to engrave the truth in my mind. “Sonic came to be before the big fight, he wanted my advice on something that would change his life for the better. Something I promised to keep quiet about until he was ready. He told me that after the danger was behind us, he was going to take Amy out on a date. A real one… An important one. Shadow… There was a reason I was begging you to keep searching for him…”

I couldn’t even face her anymore. My eyes were locked up, the night’s freckles glittered all the same, but something different happened.

“Sonic was going to propose to Amy.”

The sky was crying.

Chapter Text

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

THUMP.

THUMP.

THUMP.

Idiot.

THUMP.

THUMP.

THUMP.

How could the blind see more clearly than me… and still overlook what everyone else calls obvious?

THUMP.

THUMP.

THUMP.

How did I not see what was right in front of me the whole time? The truth, not something I was blinded by.

Was I really just as far gone as Rose? Did I truly believe that things hadn’t changed? That the world had not stilled to appease my perception of time? I already lost fifty years. How foolish of me.

THUMP.

THUMP.

THUMP.

Propose? That fool was going to propose?! To Rose of all Mobians?! And no doubt she would have accepted it without so much as a second thought. She would have been his, and he would be hers. Binding one another with two rings, stronger than anything we use now.

How was I supposed to know?

Curse that woman for doing this! I should NEVER have played along. I should never have visited her in the first place! I should have left her there to rot; she was never my problem to begin with, and now I have this idea of the blue buffoon proposing looming over my conscience!?

Was she expecting it? She never mentioned anything herself. Surely she would have hinted at something if she knew.

THUMP.

THUMP.

Stupid. Of course, he would do something as stupid as propose. They were never even together, Rose would have said something; she would have made it obvious. She still made it look like she was the one chasing after him. Not him running towards her.

THUMP.

…THUMP.

Should I be running toward her, too, instead of standing still?

THUMP…

…THUMP…

…

I didn’t stop. Not when the skin split open. Not when my knuckles pushed raw against the inside of my gloves, tearing the fabric apart with each furious blow. I stopped when my fists were soaked in red, only when the warmth of blood seeped into the leather and dripped down in thin trails onto the ground. The tree I had chosen as my target now stood mangled, bark shredded and hanging like torn flesh, its core exposed and stained in smears of crimson—my own reminder of how far I was lost.

My hands trembled, not from the pain, not even from exhaustion, but from everything else. I needed to release this somehow. How many days have I been bottling this in? How long since I had last spoken to Rouge about this?

I was losing it, and Rose began to notice.

This shaking, this quiet, unbearable twitching—came from something deeper, almost colder. I only felt this way once before… It wasn’t rage that made my fingers curl inwards, digging into my own palms. It wasn’t the constant state of sorrow that enveloped our realities. It was the hollow clarity that set in after the storm, a realization that none of this mattered. 

None of it!

That the only thing my bleeding fists could accomplish was to remind me that I still felt something , even if I didn’t know what anymore. Rose made me feel things I refused to acknowledge, even if that was acknowledgement itself.

“Get it together…” I drew in a shaky breath, the chill of early morning biting at the exposed wounds and stabbing my lungs. The wind was sharp against my quills and the broken skin, a cruel kind of comfort, like punishment I didn’t ask for but maybe deserved.

I inhaled, deep enough to temporarily shake off the anxiety eating at my lungs.

Maybe it was time to just go back to G.U.N. HQ. Clean myself up and wipe off any red from my hands. Clear my slate and conscience. Get back into the kind of work I was actually good at and pretend none of this ever happened. Forget it all.

Let Rose deal with her own problems—her own trauma, her spiraling mind, her “real friends” can help her. Let Miles play the perfect support system. Let Rouge be the authority on who’s close enough to matter. Let the next hedgehog that walks through her door be her savior. She wouldn’t know the difference. If none of them think I count—if I’m not worth the title of “friend”—then what the hell am I still doing here?

I’d call anyone a fool if it were I staring down at what I am doing to myself. So why am I bleeding for someone who wouldn't even notice if someone else took my place?

And I wouldn't be the fool who waited around hoping she would.

I can disappear just as much and just as quickly as he did, and maybe by then, she’d miss me all the same.

Why is it always me? Why am I always the one left picking up the shattered pieces—cleaning up the messes that others leave behind? It’s like I’m trapped in this endless cycle of damage control, stitching up wounds I didn’t cause, holding things together that were never mine to fix. I’ve had chances— so many chances—to walk away from this situation, to let it collapse without me holding it up. I could’ve saved myself. I should’ve .

But I didn’t.

I don’t.

Because it’s easier to stay.

Because something in me—something painfully stubborn and unforgivably hopeful—couldn’t abandon Rose. Even when the weight became too much, or even when the line between helping her and hurting her began to blur beyond recognition. I stay.

It’s like I knew I was feeding the same fire I was trying to put out. And still, I stay.

And it’s not just her.

It’s me too. It hurts me. It has hurt me. It’s still hurting me.

Yet, I stay.

Every day, as I try to convince myself that this is temporary—that if I just hold on a little longer, maybe something will get better, the voice beside me, the one that used to whisper quiet reassurances, might start to echo with doubt. 

The wounds are still real. The ache still lingers. Even as I bleed—quietly, invisibly—I stay, and I don’t even know if that makes me loyal… or just foolish.

For all the agony she puts me through and for every ache I swallow behind a carefully crafted mask, I cannot ignore the moments that make it all feel worth it. Moments when she smiles, not at the world, not at anyone else… but at me . When her hand brushes mine with the gentleness of someone who still remembers how to care. When she laughs, as if everything isn’t shattered between us, Chaos... In those rare, fleeting seconds, I let myself believe in something softer. 

Something real, and that foolish part of me—the part that refuses to die, the part that squeezes at my chest every time she holds me like I was the most important thing in the world—still holds on.

That’s why I stay.

Hopes that maybe, just maybe, she’ll find it in her heart to forgive me.

But Chaos, please…

Please… don’t let her leave me with nothing .

Please …

Let her choose me.

Let her choose me .

 ☀︎ ᨒ ོ ☼

I stepped inside her home right before she woke up, and I slipped into her bathroom, turned on her sink, and let the water run as cold as it could. I stared at myself in the mirror, thinking that he or a shell of who he was would be across the glassy surface. A ghost. His ghost may always haunt me.

Was it his voice that attempted to help me? It didn’t sound like him. The voice was quiet now.

I was expecting to see him reflecting on where I stood.

I stared back.

Exhausted, pained, and worst of all, present.

Chained to the reality of the choices I’ve made. Now faced with the consequences as they stared back at me.

I peeled away the remnants of my gloves, their fabric frayed and ruined beyond salvation. They were more like relics now than garments, but they didn’t keep my attention for long. My gaze dropped to the crimson-streaked ruin of my hands. The damage, though grotesque in appearance, was disappointingly minimal. Not surprisingly, it wasn’t that bad. After all, I was the Ultimate Lifeform. Cellular regeneration was an inescapable byproduct of my design; it ensures that I mend faster than most. A gift. A curse.

The link that promised me a life eternal.

Fast recovery or not, the faint sting reminded me I was not impervious—only persistently recovering.

Hmm… I refuse to speak to Rouge after our last conversation. Speaking to her would demand more energy than I’m willing to offer. Any attempt at explanation would spiral into interrogation, and she’d see through the hollow words before I even finished them. I’ve never been able to lie to her. Not convincingly. She’s always had a talent for catching what I don’t say more than what I do.

Miles seems like the second-best option, and best of all, he wouldn’t ask questions.

But he would judge and make his own assumptions about more than just my hands. I can’t have that.

Hell, I could fix this myself. I fix everything, right? I mean, remember whose bathroom I’m in and why I’m even here.

I clenched my teeth as I let the running water wash the dirt, splinters, and blood off my knuckles. The pinkish remains flowed down the drain, and I saw the real damage. Not as bad as I thought. Good. I can wrap it in some napkins and call it a day.

“Sonic?”

My head snapped to the door, towards the sound of sleep not fully gone from my hostess. Pink quills a mess, nightgown wrinkled from the tossing and turning, and no doubt morning breath that has yet to battle the strawberry-mint toothpaste that she had recently purchased, yet she was radiant all the same.

Another jab in my chest, this one stronger than the last time. Not now!

“I’m sorry. Did I wake you?”

I calmed down when she shook her head, and frankly, I believed her. Sleep has become difficult for her lately. “Mmm… I had another…” Her voice trailed off, and I didn’t need her to finish to know she battled another nightmare and lost. No screaming this time, which was good, but it still pained me to see her like this.

I strided toward her and set her on her toilet lid, kneeling to get on her eye level. “Want to talk about it?”

Rose opened her mouth to speak, her eyes half-lidded from fatigue, before they landed on my hands, the napkins already terribly stained red.

“OH MY CHAOS!!! Sonic! What happened?!” She lifted both my hands closer to her face, wide-eyed and in disbelief. It was as if she had never seen her hero hurt before. Regardless, in my attempts to help Rose and her worries, I had completely forgotten about my own injuries. She does that to me.

“I was fighting off something,” Yeah, myself, “I’m fin-”

“NO!” Her tone was aggressive, loud, and silenced my words. “No! No more fighting!”

They weren’t desperate or scared. Her words weren’t even a request. It was a demand. She almost snarled, glared at me. When she was like this, which was rare itself, everyone knew she wasn’t making room for anyone testing her boundaries.

“Amy-”

“I SAID NO! That’s enough! Just stop it! If you go off on another fight, if you risk sacrificing yourself like that again-”

“Okay! Okay!” I released her hands and held her face, which seemed to calm her down. Her face lifted, but her eyes fell to the ground. “Okay, Amy… I won’t fight anymore. I promise.”

That was a promise I could keep, certainly. Any dangers that were once out there were taken care of long ago, and if, by some miracle, there was something else, surely the others could handle it. I’m fighting other battles right now, anyway.

I only calmed down when I saw Rose exhale, relieved herself. “Thank you… I-I’m sorry, I just…” She waved one hand around, still not looking at me, eyes still glued to the ground between us. “You’re not invincible, I mean, coming back when everyone else thought you were gone is pretty godly, if you ask me! But… You can still get hurt if you’re not careful, and that means you can get…” I listened carefully and knew what she was afraid to say. “I’m scared. I don’t want you going out without telling me where you are. Especially since you just got back… Is that selfish of me to ask? Controlling?”

Under normal circumstances? Probably. “No. Amy, I get it. I understand where you are coming from. I can sense your fears, and the last thing I want is to scare you. To leave you again.” I brushed a thumb across her cheek, and she leaned her cheek and face into that hand. The softest smile spread across her features, and she finally looked at me with those gentle eyes.

Chaos, she was so beautiful …

The peace didn’t last long before the ever lovely, mature and graceful Rose thwacked my forehead with one of her hands. I recoiled from the force.

“OW!”

“THAT’S! For getting into trouble! And not even a month after getting home! What were you thinking?!”

I… didn’t even have a comeback for that, not like I would say anything rude to her even if she was wrong and I had been fully honest. I simply rubbed the slight (HEAVY) pain that stung my forehead for a moment. She wasn’t wearing her weights, so everything felt like a ton. She was unbelievably strong. Helpful when needed, a terror when it’s against you. At least she was good with her hands … Cut that bit out.

She stood up and wandered to her sink, ducking under the porcelain bowl and into the small cubby that held extra towels, shampoo, and a first aid kit. I still wasn’t past the mini-attack before Rose wandered back and opened the kit, placing antiseptic, some ointment, bandages, and a clasp. 

“Hand.”

Without so much as a hesitated breath, I surrendered my injured hands to Rose, and she took them with a firm but gentle touch. Odd… She is one of the strongest Mobians I know, yet she would never hurt me or anyone without good reason. She was so delicate, even when I didn’t deserve it. I hurt myself, even if unintentional, it was still the result of my frustration… Frustration was directed at her. At myself.

I didn’t deserve her touch.

I watched as she swiftly, yet efficiently, cleansed my wound with the proper ointments and bandages. The rubbing alcohol that she said would only hurt a little stung like Black Doom’s mental torture, but the pain was only there for a few minutes before the throbbing subsided.

She discarded the evidence of my alien DNA into the nearby wastebin like it was nothing, and before I knew it, she planted her lips cautiously over my wrapped knuckles.

The lightest breath exited past my lips at that contact. It was so calm. Natural. Not at all romantic, but instead, almost therapeutic. As if peachy lips took the rush of pain away in an instant. 

“I hope your knuckles will be okay, they look pretty bad. We can go to see a doctor later- or Tails. Maybe he can-”

“Don’t worry too much. I heal quickly.” There was a quick silence before I recalled that he wasn’t the one with quick regenerative abilities. “Um… because you know me. I always-” What was it that he always said?... “Gotta go fast…? So I gotta… heal… faster…”

Good job, me. He would 100% say something stupid. No, but really. He would say something that stupid, so I think I did a good job. I just hope it was convincing eno-

“PFFT! HAHAHA!” Her first laugh of the day, and it wasn’t classy or clean like many would assume from Rose. It was loud, different, and she snorted between breaths like she couldn’t catch up on them.

It was a real laugh.

Not like her other laughs were forced or faked to appease me, I could easily tell when someone is lying, but this was a true, full, whole-hearted laugh that Rose wouldn’t show off even to some of her closest. Only someone like him would hear this.

And now it was my turn.

“Come on, Mr. I Gotta Heal Fast! Clean yourself up, and I’ll make us breakfast. Are you in the mood for waffles? What about pancakes? Maybe some parfait!”

She was already out of the bathroom door, making her way to the kitchen where empty bowls and a hungry fire awaited over the stove. The way she asked, the way she looked at me, like it was normal. It felt domestic, like this was something that always happened between us, something that occurred all the time.

“Huh…” I couldn’t stop that selfish smile of mine from forming. “Just another day…”

It was like that. Just another day. 

Rose ended up making both waffles and pancakes, because, in her words, she was craving them both with blueberries, strawberries, whipped cream, and chocolate chips. I wasn’t the biggest fan of sugary foods or drinks. I’ve seen what too much sugar can do and how it can fog the mind, but one bite of those pancakes turned into two, and then into three, and the next thing I knew, she was refilling my plate until I couldn’t have another bite of them.

Rose had also made eggs, toast, and that parfait she seemed too excited about, scarfing it down but letting me have a taste of the yogurt and granola combination.

I never took her for one to drink coffee in the morning, if I’m being honest. Honestly, I’d always imagined her sipping on hot cocoa, or a delicate cup of tea, maybe even those overly sweet, fruity smoothies that come with umbrellas and tiny straws that are loaded with protein. Coffee never crossed my mind when I thought of Rose. But that’s the thing about her—she always manages to surprise me, even with the little things.

She handed me a mug filled with black coffee, softened only slightly by a couple of sugar cubes. “Feel free to customize it to how you like!” She had said, but I didn’t bother. I drank it while it was still hot. Simple, just the way I liked it. Then, I dared glance at her cup and nearly laughed.

Wow, that was a first!

Hers was more like a dessert in disguise. No, really; cream stirred in until it turned a pale tan, sugar heaped without restraint, whipped cream piled high and melting slightly, topped with delicate shavings of chocolate and caramel drizzle.

If I hadn’t “watched” her make it, I would’ve sworn it came from a café menu under the “decadent treats” section rather than something meant to wake you up. But she took a sip like it was the most natural thing in the world, as if that sugar-loaded creation was her fuel. And somehow… it suited her.

We sat together in the early morning, chatting some more as we drank our coffee and the warm early rays kissed her quills.

To compromise with her for feeding us this morning, after taking care of me, I wanted to wash the dishes she had dirtied, but Rose had forbidden it with her stance, saying that I needed to let my hands heal and any soapy suds would wash away all her hard work. “It’s only been an hour! No one, not even YOU, heals that fast,” she protested between scrubs.

No way I could argue with that.

Instead, I tidied up the rest of the kitchen and dried off the plates with a dish towel.

We kept to small talk, and thankfully, Rose never pressed for details about my disappearance. I was grateful, not because I was drowning in guilt, but because she chose to fill the silence with something gentler. We talked about memories instead, ones she clearly cherished. And yes, they weren’t mine—not exactly. Maybe I wasn’t even there for most of them, but the way she spoke… the vividness in her words, the warmth in her laugh—it felt like I had been.

Like somehow, through her eyes, they became ours. Hey, for a little while, that was enough.

After we got dressed, we headed back outside and returned to trimming the garden—carefully, of course, given the sorry state of my hand. It was something we spent many days on, as the project was big itself. I wasn’t much use for anything that required a strong grip, but I managed to hold the shears just well enough to help shape the hedges and neaten the rose bushes that were starting to sprawl out of line up front. Rose did most of the precision work, and I mostly hovered nearby, offering an extra hand where I could—or at least moral support.

Despite the slower pace (to which I apologized for, again), we made some more progress. Her garden, once overgrown and tangled with time and neglect, was starting to look like it used to. Paths were cleared. Vines were trained back into place. Beds are ready for new seeds and soon sprouts. It was almost like the whole space had taken a deep breath and remembered how to bloom.

Much like myself…

All that remained was one flower bed, if you would even call it that, at this point.

A wild, weedy mess near the far edge of the yard. Even the soil around it looked darker somehow, as if the invasive plants there were growing out of spite rather than sunshine. Rose stared at it from a distance, arms crossed, brows furrowed like it had personally insulted her.

“That one,” she said, narrowing her eyes. “That demon flower bed is going to eat me alive if I so much as step near it.”

Ha. “You say that like it’s sentient.”

I noticed her shudder just by looking at it. “It is . Just-Just! Look at it. It’s plotting something dangerous! Like, it knows my last name is Rose, and it’s daring me to try and uproot it!”

I chuckled, wiping my forehead with the back of my arm. “Then we’ll face it together like usual. I’ll help you tame the beast when you’re ready.”

She turned to me, her expression softening, though a hint of mischief still played at her lips. “ And when your hands are healed!”

I gave her a little bow of the head and smiled, knowing she was just saying that to prolong the inevitable. “Of course, my rose.”

She rolled her eyes at the wordplay but didn’t correct me. Instead, she stepped beside me and leaned against my shoulder for a moment, letting out a contented sigh. A part of me froze, but that bit melted all the same. “Thank you, Sonic…”

I swallowed, feeling my heart race yet again.

“Anything… I’d do anything for you.”

Speaking of anything, Rose had mentioned needing help with the laundry too—nothing too demanding, just hanging the damp linens and clothes out on the line to dry. It was the kind of simple chore that somehow felt lighter when done together, even if my hands made it a bit more “complicated” than it should’ve been. Though between you and me, I could already feel my cells regenerating the broken tissue.

Rose even offered to wash a few of my things while she was at it… If I had anything to clean.

I raised a brow at that, amused. “Bold of you to assume I came here with more than the clothes on my back.”

She gave me that look—half-teasing, half-scolding, arms on her hips like I’d just confessed a crime. “Well, if you had brought any from your house other than your jacket, I would’ve gladly cleaned them.”

My smile wavered, but she didn’t seem to notice. “I’m fine, really, but thank you, Amy.”

She didn’t push the subject, just gave a little nod and handed me a few clothespins. We fell into an easy rhythm then, moving between the breeze and sunbeams, pinning fresh-washed fabric to the line as it fluttered gently in the wind.

There was a kind of quiet peace in it, the kind I hadn’t known I missed. Something I never even had to begin with. Domestic, soft… and ours.

She even had an extra pair of gloves cleaned to be hung up… Just my size .

~~~

 ☀︎ ᨒ ོ ☼

When the last batch of the linens was getting strung up and the unused clothespins returned to their little tin, I stood and watched the wind do the work for us as Rose finished up hanging up her blouses. I waited close by as she stood on a small stool. Much like Rose, she had already seemed to be deep in thought with her next task. I’m just glad I could keep up. Ha…

“Hmm… you wouldn’t mind helping me cut up some vegetables, would you? I was thinking of making something with the hotpot tonight, but I need to start right now if I want it done by dinner.”

“Dinner?” I echoed, trailing after her with mild curiosity. “Already? It’s not half past 12.”

She glanced back with a playful glint in her eye. “Well, things taste better when its steeping in flavors for hours. And dinner takes a long time, Buster! You think gardens water themselves and dinners magically app-”

BOOM! CRASH! DESTRUCTIVE SOUND EFFECTS!!!

…

What… was that ?

The ground had rumbled, cutting Rose’s words off, stumbling us both off balance. I was quick to act when Rose fell back from the stool she was still on, and caught her before she hit the ground, but my eyes were already in the sky, namely the direction from which the sound came.

Smoke. A trail of smoke as if something had crashed from the sky.

I could already hear the distant sound of civilians screaming in terror and the mechanical whirr of… robots? No… No, it couldn’t be.

I made sure he’d never… I destroyed EVERYTHING!

…

Clearly… it wasn’t enough …

My quills stood on end, my fists tightened. Whoever this was, whoever was behind this, whether it was Robotnik or not, they’ll regret ever-

“Sonic! What was that?!”

… I didn’t even realize how tight Rose was holding onto me. Holding me down…My ears twitched toward her, but my eyes were locked on that smoke trail; now, a few more were forming as the sounds of crashes were heard. The deep, jarring sounds of impact. Buildings breaking, windows crashing, and whatever other destruction played a role in the turmoil of this Tuesday afternoon.

Something— CRASH — everything —falling apart all at once.

“I’m going to see what that is-”

“NO!”

My head snapped toward her in shock. “Amy-”

“You promised!”

“People might get hurt if I don’t!”

“ YOU PROMISED! ”

… “I know… I know… I’m sorry… I just-” I ran a hand through my quills, frustration but dread coursing through me. Okay, think logically. Who’s around the area that could help? Think…

Rouge was– probably –already on it. She’s usually one of the first on the scene when trouble arises. Then, no doubt, Miles would be there with whatever gadgets he had built to counteract the threats of tomorrow. Silver. Silver would be there. Maybe the Chaotix? If the Echinda ever left his Chaos Foresaken island and emerald then-

BOOM!!!

Another shake. Rose held onto me tighter, digging her face into my chest fur. Shielding herself.

She was shaking.

She was… afraid…

Amy Rose. One of the heroes of the past, a name known across cities and battlefields, whispered with admiration and remembered in stories passed down like legend. One of the few Mobians I respected with my entire being—not just for her strength in combat, but for the unshakable fire in her spirit. The unwavering hope she carried, even when the world tried to crush it.. The strongest woman I knew. Scared.

And that was the moment I knew everything I needed to know about how bad things had truly become for her.

…

How long had it been since she fought any danger? How long has it been since there has been any active danger? After everything I’ve done to make sure this wouldn’t happen. So people like Rose wouldn’t have to cower in fear anymore. The elderly, the kind, the battered but not broken. The young, sickly, but brave girls who had dreams, hopes, and a life taken away from them far too soon by threats that had no business lurking around!

“  M  A  R  I  A  !  !  !  “

…

One thing is for sure: I need to make sure Rose is safe. I won’t lose her either, and if I have to stay put and make sure of that this time, then so be it. We could wait out in her cellar, just for an hour or two until the noise settles. Rouge should have things under control by then.

But what if it’s not just robots…? What if it’s something they need you for?

Unlike last time, I refused to help out the ones who needed me, and I can’t forget what that cost us…

STOP !

I’m fine… Everything will be fine . They can handle it on their own. They have in the past.

They always had him before…

They still- we… we still won. If something goes wrong this time— will it? — they need someone behind to make sure the world doesn’t burn again.

You have to go.

I’m not leaving her here. I’m not going to leave her like he did.

If you don’t… how can you truly protect her?

“Sonic…?”

You do want her safe, correct?

I felt her tugging my hand, guiding us both back inside. Away. Running away from the dangers of what we both didn’t know.

Don’t you want her safe?

I do.

Safe and cared for.

I’ll make sure she’ll be cared for. That’s why I’m doing this, right? Because I care for Rose.

Don’t you love her?

…

I stopped walking, her crumpled face turning back to me in short confusion.

“Sonic…”

 “...I have to go. I have to make sure no one gets hurt. To make sure you don’t get hurt.”

I felt her grasp on my hands tighten ever so slightly. The warmth in her eyes dimmed, replaced by a flicker of panic that began to cloud their shine. She held on like she was trying to anchor me, or maybe herself. Yet, I tugged myself free from her grip. It wasn’t that hard. Perhaps it was the fear in her.

“I’ll be back as soon as I can. Stay inside. Stay in your cellar-”

I leaned in until my forehead rested gently against hers, closing my eyes as if that single point of contact could shield us both from the world outside. For a heartbeat, the noise beyond us faded. The shouts, the crashes, the smoke curling into the air—it all blurred into the background. In that fragile, stolen moment, all I could feel was the warmth of her skin, the steady rhythm of her breath mingling with mine. If it weren’t for the chaos ripping through the town square right then, I might have stayed longer. I would have stayed for her. 

“I’ll be back…”

Reluctantly, I let my hands slip from hers, breaking that quiet tether between us.

“Soni-!”

I couldn’t register the rest of that name, as the wind and distance cut her off, my shoes, as reliable as ever, propelling me forward before I could second-guess myself. The air rushed past, cool and biting, but not nearly as sharp as the thought of leaving her standing there, reaching for someone who couldn’t stop.

Chaos… was I acting just like him ?

I didn’t dare look back. If I did, I knew my resolve would crumble. I’d turn around. I’d run to her, consequences be damned. And right now… I couldn’t afford that weakness. Not with what was happening in the square. Her voice still echoing in my mind—unfinished, but heavy enough to follow me every step of the way.

Mobians scattered, fleeing from the chaos I charged straight into, because, as far as I’m aware, that’s what heroes do.

It didn’t take long before the first mecha made its presence known. And now I knew what I was up against. Robots… with stun sticks? Never matter. It tore through the streets, engines screaming, blasting its way toward me with a speed that could have rivaled my own. But I was faster.

Who minded knuckle injuries when I had the perfect target in sight? BAM!! My strike hit home, and the shriek of metal buckling under my fists fueled me. Sparks rained, gears jammed, and the machine convulsed before collapsing in a heap.

This was what the stillness of the tree never gave me. Resistance. A challenge. A fight.

More robots must have sensed my presence. One by one, they peeled away from their rampage—abandoning the screaming Mobians, the fires, the crumbling streets—and locked their sights on me. The “equal” challenge. Ha. The fools. Good. Focus on me. 

The ground trembled as the first wave stormed in, red optics glowing like a swarm of angry hornets. Their metallic feet thundered against the pavement, their weapons already charging with a menacing hum.

A PUNCH—my fist caved in a chest plate, sending sparks bursting like fireworks.

A SWING—an iron limb came at me, but I ripped it free and hurled it back into another mecha, knocking them both to the ground. Avoid the stun sticks as they hit another robot, short-circuiting it.

A ZAP—bolts of energy screamed past me, close enough to scorch my quills. I ducked, darted forward, and the blast destroyed one of their own.

KICK! My heel crushed through a sensor, sparks blinding the unit as it crumpled.

KICK! Another staggered back, circuits spasming as it collapsed in a shower of metal fragments.

KICK! KICK! SWING! KICK! KICK! KICK!!!

The air smelled of ozone and burning oil. The sky itself seemed to flash with every strike, every explosion. They wanted a fight? I was ready to give it to them. My chest rose and fell, the exhaustion never having a moment to catch up. Machines were howling, civilians still screaming, buildings collapsing. I glanced about and saw some others finally making their way to help. Tch… not like I needed it.

Team Chaotix.

“WOAH! Uh… That’s a lot of them. Huh… ESPIO!-”

“On it.” The magenta chameleon, as swiftly as he was there, vanished before the green crocodile. Before he was gone, our eyes met, and we knowingly acknowledged one another’s skills. Espio and I are… on a first-name basis.

“HEY! HEY MACHINES! Can’t catch me! NAH NAH NAH NAH NAH!!!”

Children were always a hassle, but the Chaotix member, Charmy Bee, was no longer a child. Now, he a growing young lad who still sees the world as a game and can still very much act like a child. But hey, that bee had a strong spirit. And apparently, that spirit meant buzzing around trying to summon as large a group of robots as possible.

Vector bit down on a robot’s head and spat out some nuts and bolts before turning to me. “Hey, Shadow! Think you can handle this?”

Handle this? My eyes narrowed. Did this gator have any idea who he was talking to? I’m the Ultimate Lifeform. The one and only. The one who crushed Black Doom and walked away without a … physical scratch. I took out every threat that’s ever faced our home without so much as some help. I didn’t need to answer with words—my glare said enough. The kind that could cut steel. That must have been answer enough before Vector spun back to crush a robot.

“Oh, he can handle a lot,” Rouge’s voice cut through the clash of metal, her heeled boot slamming into a mecha’s head, “but just don’t mention his pretty little potted flower .”

“Rouge…” I snarled, tearing an arm off a bot and driving it through another. Of course, she’d bring that up now . But even so, I’m glad to see she’s here, even if I wasn’t entirely ready to face her again. Or the truth.

She flipped over my shoulder, landing gracefully as her heel smashed a robot’s visor, knocking it off balance enough for me to strike the finishing blow. “Hey, handsome,” she purred in the middle of the chaos, “What happened to your hands?”

Only then did I glance down—blood dripping, knuckles raw, torn open again from tearing steel apart. I hadn’t even noticed. Didn’t care.

“Don’t worry about that,” I muttered, blasting through another mecha with my swift kick. “Just focus on the battle.”

CRASH . “ BATTLE MODE: ENGAGED. TARGET LOCKED. INITIATING OPERATION 34-B. TERMINATE BY ULTRA RAZOR BLAST. ”

E-123 OMEGA—the walking arsenal, the unstoppable tank, my fellow teammate. Under normal circumstances, I’d be somewhat glad to see him, but not when he was in his murder mode, which is 97% of the time. The other 3% was him admiring things more destructive than him, which was rare.

Metal groaned as his arms shifted, plates grinding and locking into place until they reformed into a cannon massive enough to level a building. And once that weapon hummed to life, there was no mistaking it: destruction was inevitable. Both Rouge and I knew… She was quicker to react than I.

“Whoa there, big guy-”

BYYYOOOOOM!!......BOOM!!!

….

Rubble and cake were scattered around the perimeter, creating a ring of destruction and dessert. And-

“MY BAKERY!!!”

…… He completely missed the enemy robots. But hey, at least they stopped to examine the damage… for a second.

With them distracted, Rouge flew in place for a moment, finally able to gather her thoughts, it seemed. She was the strategic one between us after all.

“Okay, so. I’m going up ahead to see where they’re coming from and see who’s behind this; maybe I could put an end to it before things get too out of hand and it reaches the town. Vector, honey,” her head turned to the lead detective, and almost on cue, Espio reappeared beside him, “You and your team evacuate any civilians trapped or captured by these robots. It seems like they’re gathering a handful of them for something, and I don’t want them to find out what. OMEGA, smash as many robots as possible AND ONLY SMASH. That poor moth and her bakery … And Shadow-”

My eyes cut through her. Words appeared to falter on her tongue. Neither of us could forget our conversation, not yet. “Just… Make sure they don’t leave the city.” Right . I stood still and watched as the others did their assigned tasks. Given by Rouge. A true leader. A real hero…

Alright. Enough of moping.

Focus.

I watched as Vector lifted several shell-shocked Mobians and carried them off to safety with ease. Namely, the elderly and children. Espio, who had reappeared, had decided to aid the moth Mobian who had just lost her bakery. Rouge went off ahead, fighting off any robots that tried to stop her. OMEGA didn’t waste a beat, crushing other robots like tin cans.

One step back. BAM!  Dodge to the left. Now the right. LEAP. KICK ! POP !

“AAAHHHH!!! VECTOR! ESPIO! ANYBODY!! HELP MEEEE!!!”

Turning, I saw the bee again, well above the ground, and the small group of robots that had followed him from his taunts before now quadrupled in numbers. Their optics all burned with the same intent: lock on, close in, and tear him out of the sky.

Sigh…

I lifted a stray trash lid and threw it hard toward one of the robot’s heads. Getting one of them to notice me meant the rest would follow. The moment they spotted me, the swarm dove from above, engines howling. Perfect.

One tap of my rocket shoes ignited a burst beneath me, launching me forward. I kicked off collapsing rubble, springing higher, then vaulted off a robot’s head mid-air. The impact sent its sensors sparking as I used the momentum to hurl myself above the pack.

In seconds, I wasn’t surrounded anymore—I was above them, staring down at the swarm with the high ground in my grip. They changed their course, flying upward while I dove down right at the center. Clutching a chaos emerald in my grasp so hard, I wondered if it would crack.

“CHAOS CONTROL!!”

The blast radius was enough to crash several of the robots into more buildings, street lamps, and whatever blocked their path.

Well, that was pretty easy.

Charmy the Bee, who had buzzed behind a sign for protection, emerged like he wasn’t in danger a few moments ago. “Wow! That was super awesome and cool!! You should join Vector and Espio, and me!!! We could use a quick, strong man! You moved like a ninja!!!”

I admit, it does bring a smile to my face watching Espio’s face scrunch in frustration from time to time because their fellow teammate looks up to me over them both. But alas, I must play the part of stoic. “...Go help Espio and Vector. And stay out of trouble because I won’t always be there to save you.”

As soon as Charmy buzzed back to help the others, I focused on the debris around us. I picked up one of the robot’s, now detached, heads. This had to be Eggman’s doing… Who else would have the time and expertise to create a small army like this with the mission to destroy, wreak havoc, and harm the innocent?

Rage bubbled inside of me as I crushed the head in my hand. Sparks and warped metal fell back against my feet. I should have gotten rid of him years ago… Why did I keep him around? Why was I so weak? He was Gerald Robotnik’s grandson. Maria’s cousin. Maybe I had always hoped that a part of them would live in him.

Like I said… Weak . 

Kicking the head to face me again, there was something different about this… Robotnik isn’t shy about labeling all his inventions as his, and his robot creations always had some signature to them. This robot had… an odd symbol. One I’ve never seen before. It was like… 2 X’s centering 3 rings.

I’ve never seen a symbol like this before. Never seen anyone, not Infinite, not Robotnik, no one with something like this. 

“SHADOW WATCH OU-”

I barely had a moment to register the warning, let alone figure out who said it, before another robot, seemingly out of nowhere, blasted from the debris and charged at me at full force with their rocket blasters. They grabbed me, lifting me up high above the ground. Above the clouds. Above anyone else who could help.

I swung, hitting the robot square in the face, and while it faltered, it hit back, still blasting upward. Eventually, I managed to break a bit more free from its grasp and kicked one of the shoes and rocket blasters, causing the course to change, even if for a short period of time. It struck back, and I blocked it as well as I could. This one was different. It fought more like a Mobian, not like a machine.

That’s when I heard the breathing under the mask. Someone was under there. I struggled to tear off the mask and only managed to rip off the front side, but at least I saw a face. I knew a lot of faces; I could put a name to a face. I didn’t recognize this Mobian. Maybe they came from another city. Another place?

…

That’s when we began to plummet back toward the ground.

…

Through the cut of air and a velocity of 9.8 m/s/s, gravity tore us both toward the earth with little mercy. The Mech’d-up Mobian thrashed beneath my grip, but I held him fast, my voice booming over the rush of wind. “WHO ARE YOU!? What are you doing here?! What do you want?”

They snickered, the sound metallic and cruel, before a brutal kick launched me off their frame. I spun mid-air, the sky a blur around me, but I twisted hard, rocket shoes flaring, and forced myself back into control. With a burst of speed, I dove straight toward them again, slamming onto their back, my grip locking tight around their plating. “I’m not asking again…”

“Does it matter? You won’t live long enough to remember me or this world!”

For just a fraction of a second, I faltered—mind reeling at the weight of what they said. They seized the opening. With a savage twist, they rammed their metallic shoulder into me, tearing me from their back and hurling me into open air once more, the ground below rushing up fast.

One of their shoes flared up again, and they began to soar upward, balancing themselves well enough that it almost looked perfect. I took the opportunity to grab onto their other leg, knocking them off their balance and crashing down again.

We struck the surface, leaving a small crater between the debris, far enough from the city that was attacked, meaning the fight would be brought to here. Thankfully, they were the one who took most of the fall damage, leaving me cushioned enough to keep fighting. I struck their face once. Then again. And again. They blocked my fourth blow and smashed my head against the ground, gaining the upper hand. But not for very long.

Kicking them off was simple enough. They left too many windows open.

From their side, a stun stick slid into view, crackling with vicious arcs of electricity. They swung fast, a blur of cyan light cutting through the air. My instincts screamed, and I dropped low, the weapon sizzling just above my head, close enough for the static to sting my quills.

I smirked—too slow. But before I could counter, I caught a flicker of movement—too late. A second stun stick came down like a hammer, slamming into my back.

Pain detonated through me. My whole body seized, muscles locking tight as if I’d been caught in an iron grip. Electricity lanced through every nerve, every quill standing on end as if trying to tear themselves free. My vision flashed white. The roar of battle dulled into a muffled hum as the current ripped a scream from my throat.

It hurt—Chaos, it hurt so much. My knees buckled, and for a moment, I couldn’t tell if I was falling or if the world was just collapsing around me. The scent of scorched fur and metal burned in my nose, blood dripping down it, and still, the current clawed through me, hungry, relentless.

But I refused to stay down.

I struggled up, clutching the pain between my jaws. And they struck me again.

“The so-called Ultimate Lifeform… I’ve known one like you before, in the world I came from. They stood against the inevitable… and still, Uibraxus devoured them. Not with rage, but with inevitability. Your world will feed them just the same—another ember swallowed by the void. Be grateful I’m here to help.”

Help? Help ?! What was this Mobian on about? “What you just did to the city… The terror your robots caused… Doesn’t look like… someone willing to help…”

“Oh, trust me… For now, I stand between you and the hunger that consumes all. My actions aren’t based on malicious intent.”

I finally managed to stand, although my body screamed for rest, still not recovered from the shocks. “And… the kidnapping?”

“We… are saving them… We are not condemning them… we are delivering them. Saving them from the end you claw so desperately to resist. You mistake mercy for cruelty, and your blindness… it disgusts me.”

Could have done it without destroying bakeries and whatnot…But who am I to judge one’s motives and plans?

“You make no sense… and like the rest of the threats from the past, I will be here to stop you… And if not me, then someone else-”

They laughed, almost mockingly. “Someone else? One of your own… a friend. Tell me, can you truly trust them? After all the secrets they’ve buried from you? After everything they’ve concealed, everything they’ve done or haven’t… do you still cling to that fragile word— trust ?”

Rouge… She may not have been right with the things she kept from me, but… can I really say I was too? Ever since he died… All she’s ever done is protect. Really protect and save all she could.

“You know what they say, betrayal never comes from your enemies…”

“Rouge did what she had to-”

“I don’t mean your little bat companion!” Their voice spat venom, hissing like it was meant to startle me… It did . “Her secrets were kept for your sake. No, there is another among you—someone you cannot, you must not trust. Mark my words… they will be the cause of your downfall.”

I swung once more, even if my arms ached. A mistake on my end… they stunned me again and kept the stick there until I stayed down.

“They’re not the only ones keeping secrets… I know you carry a heavy one too, Mr. Ultimate Lifeform…”

I could only lie there, too pained to even move my arms up, yet I still found it in me to turn and look eye to eye with this Mobian through a wince. They crouched down and held my arms above my head, and with eyes so wicked, they bore into my very core. I wiggled as best as I could, but even their grip pained me.

“I have witnessed the brink of this world—seen the abyss it nearly surrendered to and what it lost. And you? You dare imagine yourself a substitute for the irreplaceable? You believe you can complete what could never be finished?” Their arms have the strength of attached mecha armor to their aid. Soon, they only needed one hand to hold my two wrists, their other lifted and clenched into a fist. “ No . You will not even brush a shadow of the greatness HE bore. You, Shadow, will perish. The Eater of Worlds will return and fulfill the hunger it began. Your allies will turn upon you, and the Rose you hold so dearly…” I struggled against their grip, “...will wither and bleed in the ruin that follows.”

.

…

…….

“YOU BAST-”

…

…

…

⋆｡°✩☾⋆｡°✩

…

…

…

…

Everything… was dark.

My head pounded.

My body ached.

I was still pressed against the dirt, the crater beneath me a scar in the earth that mirrored the one burning in my chest. Slowly, painfully, I forced myself upright, dust sliding off my arms and quills as I steadied myself on shaking hands. A thin sliver of moonlight broke through the clouds above, spilling across the ruined ground, casting the battlefield in silver. The stillness of the night greeted me—not as comfort, but as a haunting reminder of how violently it had been shattered.

How long had it been? How long was I out?

There was a stinging on my knuckles. They were healing, but not nearly as well as they should have been. All of that hard work is now down the drain.

The Mobian that had knocked me out was gone. I guess that was something I was thankful for… But their words still echoed, threading through my mind like poison. Words I should have brushed off. Words I would never have allowed to sink in before.

“ I have witnessed the brink of this world—seen the abyss it nearly surrendered to and what it lost… ”

I stood on shaking legs and took a step forward. It was much easier than I expected. I mean, I was the Ultimate Lifeform! “The Eater of Worlds will return and fulfill the hunger it began.” I made my way toward the city, albeit slowler than I would have liked. I had to make sure everything was handled, everything was dealt with. I’d have to tell Rouge that I found the culprit behind this. No doubt she thought it was Eggman as well. “Your allies will turn upon you…”

My allies… Rouge… No. She- we… We will talk about it later. But then who could they have been hinting toward? OMEGA? Knuckles? Espio? Maybe even Miles… or Silver? Or even-...

“... and the Rose you hold so dearly …” My eyes, once lidded, snapped wide open, “... will wither and bleed in the ruin that follows .”

… Rose …

Suddenly, all the pain that lingered in my body vanished. Or maybe it was still there, screaming in every nerve, but my mind refused to hear it. None of it mattered. Not now. Not when she could be in danger.

I bolted forward, feet pounding the earth in a blur. Every sore spot, every torn muscle tried to drag me down, but I pushed harder, faster, lungs burning. I couldn’t stop. Not for a second. Not when every wasted heartbeat felt like a lifetime slipping away.

I raced past the outskirts of the city, raced through the streets, eyes locked ahead, my muscle memory guiding me to her front door. I skidded around the last corner, heart hammering against my ribs like it would break through. My eyes locked onto her place, the familiar shape in the night; the little heart she painted so long ago still as it was

Her door was unlocked… It was slightly open…

No… no no no no…

My breath caught in my throat, and for a terrifying moment, I couldn’t move. My world narrowed to that single, silent doorway, and the thought crashed into me like ice.

“Amy?!” I called.

No response.

No. Chaos no. No. NO!

“Amy?! AMY!?” My voice cracked against the silence as I stumbled into the basement, the place I told her to stay, to wait. But the shadows down there met me with nothing. Was it always this cluttered? The boxes were stacked wrong, garden tools scattered, dust hanging in the air like fog. Didn’t we clean this place just a week ago? My mind reeled, second-guessing everything—was she ever even here? Or did I mean the attic?

I bolted up the stairs, feet pounding the wood too fast to catch, and I nearly tripped over the third step, catching myself with a hand against the wall before lunging forward again. I searched through every room. Her bedroom was untouched. And a mess… Did she fix it up after breakfast? Or am I just misremembering?

Why can’t I remember? What’s wrong with me?

Why are my memories blurring ?

“AMY!!!” The kitchen was empty. The plates we’d used this morning sat dry on the rack, stacked neatly, like ghosts. The bathroom—lights off, mirror clear from hours past. The first aid kit still out, resting against the sink where she left it. A reminder of her presence. Proof she was here this morning. Proof she should still be here.

But she wasn’t.

I tapped my wrist, and a watch with a microphone and speaker came to life. “Rouge! ROUGE! It’s Shadow. Did any of the robots make it outside of the city? Did they infiltrate the town?” Static . “Rouge?! It’s me! Do you copy?!” The buzzing filled my ear where her voice should’ve been, a cruel replacement for the sound I was desperate to hear. No soft reply. No frantic shout. Just the cold drone of broken signals. My communicator was busted, must have happened from the fall. Or when the Mobian stunned me…

“Damnit!” My fist clenched around the useless device, and for a heartbeat, all I could hear was the static and my own pulse, hammering.

I searched every corner of her house, tearing through each room with frantic, shaking hands. My breath came uneven, every inhale catching in my throat. My heart hammered in dread, pounding so violently against my chest I swore it might burst at any second. 

I flipped her home upside down, every overturned cushion, every scattered item, only fueling the terror clawing at me. My mind kept flashing back to that first evening when this whole nightmare began, when I swore I’d never let her out of my sight again. “AMY?!”

Was she outside? Did she wander and come looking for me? Or did someone take her…

I bolted for the door and rushed outside, eyes scanning frantically in every direction. The night air hit me sharp and cold, but I ignored it, desperate for any sign—a quill, a bootprint in the dirt, even the faintest trace that she’d been here. Anything. “AMY?! AMY!!! ROSE!!!”

I checked her garden. “ROSE!!! PLEASE ANS-”

…

She was here. She was asleep, it seemed. Asleep in her garden. No… she had collapsed in the one place she swore she would never go near. The flowerbed she named the “demon’s bed,” the patch of earth she avoided with visible unease, as though it whispered threats only she could hear. 

And there she was, right in the middle of it.

The one she wouldn’t so much as step near. The weeds already appeared to claim her. The pale moonlight washed over her like a shroud, turning her familiar color into something faded, drained, almost ghostlike. For a fleeting moment, I couldn’t tell if it was really her or some lifeless replica left behind to torment me.

I carefully approached her and knelt down to get a better look at her. She was breathing softly, and that, alone, lifted a huge weight off my heart. She didn’t look hurt. No physical injuries made themselves known.

But her chest barely rose. Her breath was shallow, and I felt my stomach churn with panic. The garden was claiming her, and all I could do was watch as the person I swore to protect looked more and more like a fading shadow against the earth.

She must have been waiting so long…

Waiting… So… so long …

My ears fell. Head drooped, chin pressing into my chest as though even gravity wanted to break me further. My fists dug into the weeds, clutching the vines and overgrown plants that tangled around her, their thorns and edges biting into my palms. The sting grounded me, a new pain I forced myself to endure, as if somehow suffering alongside her would anchor me in this unbearable reality.

A hiccup broke out of me—sharp and desperate. It caught in my throat and tore its way out like I had forgotten how to breathe properly. Every inhale burned, every exhale felt wrong, and my lungs screamed with the weight of it. I shook my head. Hard.

I felt everything all at once, like my soul had been split into fragments, each emotion stabbing in a different direction. Pain, sharp and relentless. Relief, faint but cruel, whispering that at least I had found her. Agony, coiling in my gut like a snake. Peace, fleeting. Dread, suffocating. Anger, white-hot and venomous, demanding someone—anyone—to hurt me. And through it all, a strange, unnatural calm.

Every heartbeat in my chest was too loud. Every thought was too much. I was unraveling, and still I clung tighter to the vines, as though if I let go, she would slip away forever.

Just as quickly as these feelings came, they vanished all the same. Now, there was nothing but the need to keep her safe.

With careful hands, I lifted Rose into my arms after ripping away the weeds and overgrown vines that clung stubbornly to her still form. I forced my breathing to remain still and calm. Once she rested against me, sheltered and safe, she instinctively nestled into my fur—seeking the comfort she knew there. I pulled her closer, holding her as if letting go was no longer an option.

“I got you…” My voice was no stronger than a whisper, yet I prayed it might reach her in whatever dreams held her now. Gently, I carried her inside, guiding us through the quiet house until we reached her room.

I laid her down upon the bed and drew the blankets around her with trembling care. Only then did I slip in beside her, gathering her close against me. My arms tightened, and with each breath, I cursed myself in silence.

I swore I’d return… yet I left her in the silence of doubt, forced to wonder if my oath had already shattered.

Chaos…

I've lost so many important people to me in such tragic ways. I can't bear to lose someone else… as important as her.

…

Rouge was right …

Chapter Text

How do you even begin to apologize to the one person you care about above all else after breaking the one promise you knew would break them if you broke it?

It had only been a few days, and Rose had been quiet. Distant. Different. Colder? Not toward me, but the already small world she was living in. 

She ate her meals at the kitchen island now, leaving me to sit alone at the table, the distance between us feeling far greater than a few feet of countertop. When she slept, she turned her back to me, her shoulders curved inward as if she were holding herself together, shutting me out of whatever thoughts kept her restless through the night.

Even the little things had changed. When she needed something, instead of asking me like she once did, she went to get it herself, as though she no longer wanted to risk depending on me. The garden was the hardest to watch. She stopped asking me to work alongside her, even in the flowerbed I once pulled her from, the one I swore I’d take care of with her so she’d not risk getting “eaten alive”. Now she worked there without me, her hands in the soil, her back turned, proving to herself she didn’t need my promise anymore.

Guess that’s another promise I broke.

After everything had settled in the town, I told Miles about what had happened—the attack, the robots, the mystery Mobian, the cryptic message. I even suggest he find and talk to Rouge about what happened; she probably had more information on what happened than I did. Besides, my focus was on Rose. Miles was concerned, but calm, and said he’d look into it; however, I could tell it was just more stress on his sinking shoulders.

Can I apologize for that as well?

Speaking of Miles, I spoke to him again yesterday, this time about Rose’s condition, as I had promised to do. And I was honest, that’s what he wanted, after all. He seemed worried about her shutting herself off from me, but asked me to remain a constant support for her. A hand to hold.

Every time I tried to hold her, she’d pull away.

Talk to her…

Chaos, I tried. I tried to talk to her.

I really did…

But looking at those pained eyes, knowing what I did? Breaking the promise the same day I made it? It might as well have been in the same breath. How could I even begin to explain without undoing all my hard work?

I told her I’d never leave her. I told myself I’d never be like him. I promise I’d stop fighting against danger so I would never risk disappearing. I promised more than that. I promise to be there during her highs and lows, through trouble and turbulation, through sickness and through health. What if something happened? Could it? I am the Ultimate Lifeform…

But I didn’t feel like it… 

Nothing seemed to be enough for me to give to her, no matter what I tried. I even subtly asked Silver what he would do in my place, hoping he’d have some kind of answer I couldn’t see. He suggested the usual things—flowers, a gift, maybe just giving her some time. Simple. But… time is all I have, and somehow it still feels like the one thing I’m always running out of.

I stepped inside the house, and the warm scent of herbs and broth drifted through the air. Rose was at the counter stove, busy with a pot of stew for lunch, her movements steady, practiced, though her expression was harder to read. Even when quiet, she made enough for two. Even when upset, she was taking care of me. Of us.

I tried to play the part.

She didn’t tell me to go pick up groceries, but it had become my unspoken duty ever since I had, in all but name, moved in. Little tasks like that gave me something to hold onto, a way to feel useful, even when words between us had grown scarce. The market was the only place Rose felt comfortable enough to let me go alone.

A neat list had been pinned to her refrigerator, written in her careful handwriting, each item crossed or underlined with intent. 

Another quiet morning. Another one where she didn’t look my way, and I couldn’t find the right thing to say. So, without breaking that silence, I took the list and slipped back outside, heading toward the market.

“I’m back,” I mentioned. I tried to make my presence felt to her. Assure her that I was still here. That I came back to her.

She kept stirring, adding some more vegetables to the pot.

I stared at her back, not knowing what expression was plastered on her face, but also knowing it wasn’t the pleasant one I was so accustomed to.

As I put the groceries away, my mind drifted to something else. A time when Rose and I spoke about forgiveness many moons ago. She held one of those “let’s talk about our feelings” group parties, one I was forced to attend by both Rouge and Cream, and maybe a bit of pleading from Rose herself. Did I participate? Of course not- well, I tried not to. I just stood in the corner while the others spoke. Vague memories of how Rouge felt like no one appreciated her anymore (not true, she’s just dramatic), and how Rose made us all tell her three things we loved about Rouge. I knew deep down that she only said that so I could say sweet things to her. 

Then there was Cream, who said she was excited about her mother, Vanilla Rabbit, starting a relationship with Vector. But of course, she was also worried, not because of her mother spending less time with her, from what she explained, both Vanilla and Vector spent plenty of time with her as a family, but the fact that the bee, Charmy, might end up being her brother (seeing that Vector is Charmy’s legal guardian), and she did not like him because he was “annoying”.

Rose pushed me to speak. And as reluctant as I was because of Rouge, both Rose and Cream persuaded me enough. I barely spoke, just mentioned that I felt like I wasn’t doing enough for this world. The world I promised Maria (and Rose) I’d protect. Although the promise was made years ago, it was one I planned on keeping forever. It was bothering me at the time, mainly because Eggman had staged another attack then, and again, the blue idiot let him go again with a warning when the best way to handle it was-...

And he’s still around… but done.

Then Rose spoke, of course, mentioning her hero, but then saying she felt worried if she was pushing him too hard. Mentioning that she tried hinting at wanting to go on actual dates, but he never seemed to catch her drift. Rouge, who mentioned talking to the blue buffoon from time to time, said she was doing everything right! I remember rolling my eyes at her complaints. If he couldn’t see the obvious, then maybe he didn’t deserve her. He wasn’t here, now, now was he?

Aaaaaand…

Speak of the devil.

Leave it to the blue idiot to ruin the moment and prove me wrong. He always had a knack for it; showing up “fashionably late,” as he liked to call it, with a greasy paper bag of chili dogs in one hand and some half-baked excuse about how he’d lost track of time in the other. It always bothered me.

But then again… everything he did bothered me to some degree…

Rose? Well, she never scolded him for it, never once let any shred of disappointment harden her expression. Instead, she forgave him. She would reach for his hands, her fingers curling so gently around his. And then she’d look at him—really look at him—with that soft, unshakable love shining in her eyes, the kind that made everyone else in the room disappear. 

Back then, it didn’t bother me. 

Maybe it did.

Maybe I wanted to believe I could ignore the ache settling somewhere deep inside my chest.

Maybe it hurt to see how easy she forgave him for these things, and yet, I always felt unworthy of her forgiveness.

Of her touch.

When I finished tucking the cans neatly into the cupboard and sliding the carton of eggs into its place in the fridge, I turned back toward her, ready to speak, but before I could even shape a word, she was already moving. 

She reached for two bowls without a glance, ladled the stew into each with practiced motions, and placed one down at the table where I always sat. Her own bowl, though, she kept balanced on the edge of the countertop, the kitchen island—again, always there, never across from me.

I lingered, rooted in place while she lowered herself onto the stool, away from me, the steam from the stew curling faintly. She sat in silence, her spoon rising delicately, almost absentmindedly, as if her body knew what to do while her mind wandered elsewhere. She took a small, careful bite, and then her gaze went distant, fixed on nothing at all—an empty stare that made the room feel colder than it should have.

Talk to her…

TALK TO HER, DAMNIT!!!

…

No… I was not about to fall into the miscommunication trope every romance reader complains about… I was not going to leave things the way they are just because the unknown worried me. I was not going to lose a friend because of things left unsaid…

I took the bowl from the table and set it down on the counter across from her. It seemed to surprise her a bit, but Rose kept eating, now her face scrunched up, as if annoyed or trying to ignore me.

It was like the rest of her… cute.

“Amy,” I began, my voice shaking despite how hard I tried to steady it. “I need to talk to you about what happened. It’s something I should have said long before now. I know you probably don’t want to hear me out, or even look at me right now. I know you probably want more time to yourself, space to gather your thoughts, to just breathe without me hovering nearby—”

She shifted suddenly, pushing against her own silence, and tried to stand. The scrape of the stool legs against the floor sent an alert through me, louder in my ears than it should have been. My hand found her wrist. Not harshly, not in a way that would ever startle her, but with a soft, tentative grip, almost like a prayer. It wasn’t to restrain her, wasn’t to pull her back down, but to show her that I was still here. Still willing to follow her wherever she went, even if it was only to the doorway.

So I rose with her, close enough that she could hear the sincerity in my words. “Amy…” My throat tightened, but I pushed past it. “I can’t stand the thought of what I’ve done. The thought that I hurt you like this— it’s tearing me apart. It’s eating me alive every second I go without seeing your smile, without hearing your laugh, without knowing you feel safe with me.”

Her gaze flickered, but I pressed on, the apology burning in my chest. “I’m so, so sorry. Sorry for hurting you in the way I swore that I never would again. I broke my promise. I failed you. I’m sorry for walking away, for leaving you to shoulder the weight of dread alone. I’m sorry for every moment you stood in your garden waiting, wondering if I’d return, when I never should have left.”  Two years… It’s been two years…  “And I’m sorry that it took me this long to finally say it; to look you in the eyes and admit how I’ve failed.”

I stared at her. “I know that no amount of apologies will ever erase the hurt I caused when I left,” I said quietly, my voice almost breaking under the weight of the truth. “But if you’ll let me, I want to tell you everything. I’ll tell you everything that happened… what I was thinking, honestly and without hiding behind excuses.” She deserved that much.

I hesitated, searching her face, careful not to overwhelm her. “If you’re not ready to hear me, then I understand. If you need time, I won’t push you. I won’t rush you. I only want you to know that I’m here. Here to talk, here to listen, here to finally have the conversation you’ve deserved from me for far too long. And whenever you’re ready, I’ll be ready too.”

I swallowed hard, the words catching on the edges of my breath. “I mean it Amy… And if you want to still hear me out, if there’s still a part of you willing to let me try, I want to make it right. I don’t care how long it takes. I don’t care how much I have to prove it. Just… don’t walk away from me. Not yet. Please.”

Goodness, who are you, and what did you do to Shadow? The Shadow I know would never apologize because they think they do nothing wrong. The Shadow I know would never be this soft and caring to anyone.

I looked into Rose’s eyes. They would never rise higher than the tips of her shoes, too heavy with doubt to meet mine. But now, slowly, cautiously, they lifted toward me, as if some small part of her still believed me, still wanted to trust me.

“I know it’s going to take time to earn that trust back,” I admitted. “If I were you, I wouldn’t trust me either… not after I abandoned you the way I did… especially after the promises I swore I’d keep.”

Her gaze slipped downward, landing on our hands, fingers laced together as though muscle memory had guided them there. Her expression, once blank and guarded, shifted—no longer empty, but carrying a weight of hurt so sharp it almost drew blood just to see it.

That look stung worse than any silence could.

“I shouldn’t have expected you to stay,” she whispered, and her voice trembled. “You always end up leaving me alone, even when I cry. Even when I beg you not to.”

The words cut deeper than I was ready for. I hadn’t expected that—hadn’t prepared myself for the quiet devastation of her truth. I thought I would hear something gentler, like, “You really hurt me,” or maybe a hesitant, “I can’t forgive you just yet.” Even a frustrated, “I’m very upset with you, you know?” would have been easier to bear.

But this…? This was the kind of wound no apology could soothe.

“Amy—” I started, but she flinched and pulled away before I could finish the sentence.

“I’m not… mad at you. I’m not pleased with you, either. I’m mad at myself…” She turned away and took a few steps away, “Mad that after everything, after all these years, after what we survived together, after you vanished for two years! I still let myself believe you’d be different. That you’d change and understand how hurting me like that would—” Her words cut off, as if saying more would make the wound worse.

She swallowed, eyes distant for a heartbeat, then turned back to me with something fierce and fragile all at once. 

I stepped forward again, my own throat burning. “Don’t… don’t stop. Please. I need to know what you’re thinking, how you feel. I need to hear it so I can promise myself I’ll never let this happen again.”

My plea landed in her chest like a demand and a benediction. I stepped even closer, careful and slow, until we were pressed against one another, and I lifted my hands to her face. They trembled when they brushed her cheeks, but they were steady enough to wipe away the small, stubborn tears that had begun to fall. She shivered under my touch, not from cold but from the pressure of feeling seen.

She leaned into my palms, a small, tentative surrender. Not forgiveness, not yet, but the tiniest sign that something might heal. It felt like the smallest opening in a wall that had been welded shut for far too long.

“I’m here, Amy,” I whispered, my voice raw but sure. “I’m here, and no one is ever going to hurt you like that again...”

We did end up speaking. Through lunch, our stew was still warm as we ate. I asked to speak, and she was free to ask any questions when she wanted to know more. I informed her about everything that had been going on in my head the day the attack happened. How I only wanted to keep her safe, and how I knew that getting rid of the problem would be the only way to do that. I explained what went on, the robots, the attack, even mentioning the mystery Mobian that had seemed to be in charge of the attack. However, I didn’t inform her about what the Mobian said about her specifically. 

I told her that, at the moment, in my mind, I had to do what I thought was best, even at the expense of her peace of mind. What if no one else had shown up, and no one else came to save the townsfolk? Hundreds would be lost. I explained that, no, I didn’t forget or purposely choose to break my promise to her, but I was caught between a rock and a hard place. And no, it’s no excuse for breaking my promise in the first place. If I knew for a fact that others would be there and they could absolutely handle it, then I probably wouldn’t have gone. Maybe…

She asked if I had a savior complex. I said I did.

There were people in the world I couldn’t save, and it felt like no matter what I did, it would never be enough because it would never bring back the people I failed. No matter how many bad guys I take out, no matter how many Mobians I save, it will never be enough. There were moments when I felt like bad things just needed to happen.

“But you… You taught me the world, this world, was worth saving. Bad things happen all the time, there is nothing I can do to stop them, and yes, sometimes it feels better to give up, but I need to do what’s right, not what feels right. People are counting on me. People need me. And I knew those townsfolk needed me.”

Rose nodded and fiddled with her dress. 

She told me everything that was going on in her head. And apparently everything that had happened years before… How “my” behavior improved, but she still felt like there was a gap between them. When “we” were kids, “I” had always had an excuse to leave her in the dust, or alone, when the rest of “my” friends, like Miles or Knuckles, would go save the day. She was useful too, but “I” never saw that. Then, when “we” got older, that “I” got better, but she still felt like she was second-rate compared to others, and her voice was never really heard.

She was the safety net, sometimes the bait, rarely the scapegoat. She was only ever appreciated when she acted like the others. A fighter, a sophisticated rogue, but even then, she was still treated like she could break. Too emotional for “me” to handle.

“I” had promised her “my” return. I did. I had promised her my return.

“After everything that’s happened… every promise, every tear, every moment I fought to hold on to you… You still found a way to run from me. And I don’t know why… why some foolish part of me kept believing that this time would be different. That you would finally stay.” I stared at Rose, her hands clutching her arms. “I don’t know why I expect you to change who you are. Not just the running away, but… you’re still a hero. You still have a duty to others in your head. Who am I to force you to stop?”

For a moment, her words pierced deeper than I wanted to admit. She was right—he couldn’t change who he was any more than she could. Running off, chasing battles, clinging to duty… But… it was also written into me as much as it was written into her hero. And yet, watching her fold in on herself, clutching her arms as though she needed to hold herself together, I realized how much we’d all taken from her without ever meaning to. The truth was, it wasn’t about forcing change—it was about us choosing to.

And to think, the blue bother had planned on proposing to her… She would never say yes with that many problems in their friendship. 

“Amy… You are one of the most important people in my life. If I could, I would spend every moment of every day with you. There is nothing I want more than to see you smile, know you’re safe, and rest knowing that you never have to worry about a thing again. I never, ever, want you to feel second to anyone when it comes to me. You’re the person who gives me a reason to keep going when I want to give in. You don’t know the full extent of how much you’ve changed my life for the better. You don’t see how deeply you’ve become a part of me. And if I have to spend the rest of my life repaying the lessons and care you’ve given me, then I’ll do it. Gladly. I’ll do it a thousand times over, and then a thousand more, because you’re worth more than every effort I could ever make. You always were. And I swear to you, I’ll never stop trying to show you that.”

Goodness, who are you, really? Not the Shadow we all know…

Her arms found themselves around my neck, pulling me into a gentle hug, and I returned the gesture, burying my face in her shoulder and quills.

I am not worthy of her forgiveness.

I am not worthy of her embrace.

“Amy Rose… I think it’s time we…” I paused. “I think we both should start therapy.”

After lunch, things felt different, almost lighter and calmer. The sharp edge of tension that had been hanging between us for days seemed to dull after our conversation. Rose looked better, or at least she carried herself in a way that suggested she wasn’t holding quite as much weight on her shoulders anymore.

For the first time in what felt like forever, I caught glimpses of relief in her expression, as though maybe she believed we weren’t doomed to circle. She even agreed earnestly that therapy was probably the best step forward for both of us. It wasn’t an admission made lightly, either. She’d been to therapy before. She had only stopped going after everything that happened, but now she was willing to try again. Individual therapy for us both, yes, and maybe even for us together. She even teased the idea of couples counseling, and though it was a joke on the surface, a part of me wondered if there was a thread of sincerity woven through her voice.

I mean, I wasn’t opposed, but… Hey… She wasn’t avoiding me like I was made of acid, and over the course of a few more days, things settled back into a normal, so that’s a start.

What meant the most to me, though, was the moment she hugged and thanked me. Not for fixing things, not for erasing the hurt, but for talking to her instead of ignoring her feelings. She told me most people would’ve waited her out, let her stew until she broke down and apologized first—or worse for her, she forced an apology out of them just to restore the peace. But I hadn’t.

I had listened and watched. I had stayed and came to her first. And in her voice, I could hear the surprise, the fragile kind of gratitude that said maybe, just maybe, she was beginning to believe I wouldn’t leave again.

I told her I meant it, and we both scheduled therapy just to prove I meant change. I, of course, informed Miles of this stepping stone, and he said it was great. It’ll help clear her head, and maybe we can start with some different types to help remind her that I wasn’t… him.

We’ve had calm days, no interruptions, nothing. We settled back into a routine, and to make matters better, we finally set Rose’s home straight, as if nothing ever changed in the past two years. She seemed grateful for my help, though she seemed shocked that we took our time with this. “I never took you as someone who wants to slow down just to clean!”

Life began to feel… normal.

The worst of the anxiety began to finally subside.

The guilt never left, but I began to feel more than just that day-to-day. I began to feel safe in her home. I began to feel like I was a part of her life, and she became a part of mine.

If a mission carried even the slightest risk of me not coming back, I turned it down. Not because I doubted my ability( I knew I could handle almost anything they threw at me), but because I had renewed my promise. My promise to her.

Most nights, I limited myself to small scouting assignments, slipping out quietly while Rose slept. They weren’t much, but they gave me something to do, some outlet for the restlessness that never quite left me and kept G.U.N. off my back. Still, I refused to cross the line into anything that might leave her waiting by the window, wondering if I’d return.

The higher-ups didn’t like it, of course. They didn’t like seeing me on the sidelines, calling me wasted potential, acting as though keeping me in reserve was an insult to the work I was “built for.” But I’ve never lived by anyone else’s orders, and I wasn’t about to start now. If they wanted me, they could take what I gave them—or I’d walk away and do things on my own terms. I’ve been doing exactly that for years anyway, and I wasn’t about to change for them. Not when she was the reason I stayed.

But for now. There was peace. There were missions at “home”. Grocery runs. Pruning the gardens. Taking Rose to her therapy appointments. Going through boxes and items that never belonged to me and putting them in her house.

These missions meant more to me.

“Amy?” I carefully stepped into the kitchen after another long day of doing laundry. The room smelled sweet and warm, the kind of scent that clung to the walls and made the freshly painted pink feel even softer compared to the dull beige the house had come with. She had promised herself that she’d be baking today, and sure enough, she was at work, flour dusting her apron and the counters alike. I remembered her telling me that today, it would either be shortbread or chocolate chip again.

Seeing her work was like seeing a magician. Her famous recipes were her biggest secrets, and her family’s recipes were never written down. She had once promised that she’d pass along the recipes one day to her own children… And flushed before redirecting my attention by offering a dozen cookies. Not that long ago, she’d taught me how to make her secret strawberry short cookies, though mine hadn’t come out quite as well as hers. Still, she’d laughed, said it was “a good first try.”

I leaned against the doorway, watching her set another tray down with a proud little hum. “Is this your sixth batch?” I asked.

She whipped around with a grin, a spark in her eyes. “Seventh! I’ve been baking everything my granny has ever made since this morning! The community bake sale this year is going to be fierce, and I’ve been out of commission for two years! Did you hear about that bakery that got blown up a few days ago? Now the owner’s running around town with her sob story, selling her treats to pitch more sales!” She gave a huff, tying her apron tighter before flashing me that fiery look I’d missed. “Playing dirty’s not my style. Winning is!”

I couldn’t help but smile at her determination and the sight before me. “Why don’t you take a break? The oven looks like it needs it—and so do you.” The counter was a battlefield, and Rose was right in the middle of it, dusted with flour from head to toe, streaks of spice on her sleeves, egg shells and baking sheets scattered in every direction. Even her quills had caught a few flecks of sugar, like she’d stepped straight out of a snowstorm made of sweets.

“Only for a few hours,” I added, stepping closer, my voice gentler. “I know a place we could go.”

Her head snapped up, eyes brightening instantly. “Oh! Like the park! Maybe Green Hill Zone! Seaside City? Or—”

I took her somewhere she never would have thought of—somewhere beyond her ordinary, beyond the noise of our everyday lives: the quiet outskirts of Sunset Forest.

“Hang on, we’ll be there soon.” My voice was low, only meant for her ears alone. She held onto me tightly, her arms wound around my neck, and for that moment, it felt like the whole world had narrowed down to just the two of us. 

Kicking my rocket shoes into activation, we sped off. Rose had gripped me a little tighter when we moved. We were leaving behind the bustle of town, the glare of city lights, the curious eyes, and endless sounds that bothered me more than they bothered her.

For now, there was only her heartbeat pressed against me, and mine racing to meet it halfway.

The wind roared past us, tearing through the night, yet she fit against me so perfectly that it almost felt like the world was trying to sweep us away—but failing. 

She must have been used to the rush of speed; Rose had mentioned she would run just as fast to catch up to “me” in the past so this never bothered her. Still, she teased me, warning that her quills had better not end up ruined. I smirked at her words, but made no promises there. What I did promise—what I swore silently and fiercely—was that she’d be safe. I never let her go. And to my quiet relief, she never let me go either.

The journey blurred into streaks of color and motion, but when I looked down at her, everything slowed. Her smile outshone the rushing lights, softer and warmer than even the fading sunset we chased. It anchored me more firmly than gravity ever could.

In that fleeting, fragile space between heartbeats and horizons, I realized something I couldn’t quite put into words: it didn’t matter where we were going even though I had a destination in mind. As long as I had Rose in my arms, her smile in my memory, I was already exactly where I wanted to be.

But… We made it. 

We arrived. 

The outskirts of Sunset Forest stretched wide before us, a quiet sanctuary hidden at the edge of the world. Ridges rose in gentle waves, their cool shadows stretching long beneath the fading sky, while ancient trees stood scattered like sentinels, their leaves whispering as the wind drifted through.

I slowed only when we neared the edge, my rocket shoes leaving trails of dust and light behind us. Eventually, I stopped entirely and set Rose down on her feet. Her quills are still as radiant as ever might I add.

They say the sunset was at its most beautiful here. Shades of orange, lemon, and rose colored the lands, burning brighter, softer, and more radiant than anywhere else. They say the light can melt the anxiety away from anyone who takes the time to focus on the setting sun. I’d been here before on occasion, but never too focused on the peace it brought. Today was no different. Today, I hadn’t come for the sky. I came because I knew Rose loved beautiful things.

When I glanced at her, eyes wide, lips parted ever so slightly as she took it all in, I realized that even the horizon itself was paling in comparison.

I wasn’t opposed to beauty myself, but what mattered wasn’t the colors painted across the heavens or the glow and rays spilling between the treetops. It was the way she looked at it, the way she leaned closer to me without even realizing it, as if the moment itself had drawn her nearer.

In that light, the clouds seemed to bend around her, as though the forest itself had conspired to frame her in gold.

Selfishly, I knew that I’d take her here a thousand times over, just to see that expression on her face again.

My heart raced. Another familiar flaw that I was beginning to welcome. “…Amy… I—”

“I forgive you.”

Her words stopped me cold, and what I wanted to say died on my tongue. What?  “I-I’m sorry? Forgive me for what?”

She stepped closer, her hand finding mine with a trembling gentleness. “I forgive you… For all the years you’ve been running and hurting me. I know you always wanted to say such, but your pride always got the better of you. Truth be told, I never gave you any space to breathe or to think for yourself, only picturing us, our future.” Her voice wavered, but she pressed on. “So, I’m also sorry. Sorry for being so needy. So clingy. So… overprotective.”

It was true, even from a bystander's perspective. “Amy, no. You shouldn’t have to apologize for caring.” Or loving.

“I know,” she said softly, eyes dropping before meeting mine again. “And normally I’d believe that. You should never apologize to someone you love for loving them. But the way I cared… it wasn’t right. It was never right. It wasn’t healthy. It was obsessive. Almost dangerous.” A nervous laugh slipped out of her, sharp and fragile. “Ha… do you remember how I acted when you first came back?”

Of course I do… I could never forget that look. But now, when I meet her gaze, I see something gentler—something warmer. The cold, desperate emptiness that once haunted her eyes, the trembling tears, the fear… all of it had been replaced with the Rose I remembered. The determined Rose, who still believed in herself and in me. The Rose I cared for. The Rose I had made a promise to on the ARK all those years ago.

A flash. A light different from the rest. Something in the distance… I saw it only for half a second, but… Someone’s watching us…

“So I’m sorry again,” she whispered, her voice steady but soft, bringing my attention back to her, “for all the years I spent chasing you instead of waiting to see if you’d come to me on your own. I thought if I ran long enough, fast enough, I’d eventually catch you. But someone once told me that good things come to those who wait.”

That patience is its own kind of strength.

I lifted my hand to her cheek, my thumb brushing against her skin. “Why would anyone ever want to run away from someone like you?” The question slipped out before I could stop myself. A mistake…

Doubt and something else coated her eyes… Maybe a sense of knowing. But instead, she smiled again. I loved that smile.

For a fleeting instant, time stood still. It wasn’t Rose chasing the light of the past. I wasn’t running from the shadows of my past. It was just us. Rose and I, caught in a moment that felt achingly familiar but one I never knew existed. It reminded me of the garden… back when her smile belonged to me, and no one else.

She stepped even closer to the edge, wanting to see more of Sunset Forest in all its beauty.

“Amy… Rose… I...” She turned to me, her eyes glistening like emeralds. Did she expect something? A grand gesture of affection? A hug? A kiss? A proposal? I’ve been dragged to enough romance films to know right now would be the best time for one.

I could do it… I could do what he never could… If only I had a ring…

“Come on! Get closer! Don’t tell me you’re afraid to fall off!”

…

… Or... I could cherish this moment with her as it is.

I stepped beside the pink hedgehog and pulled her closer to my side. We watched the forest earn its name as the sun set across its horizon. A memory.

Ours.

“Thank you…" A whisper. "Thank you for not losing faith in me. Thank you for staying. For helping me when I was at my lowest, and I thought I was going crazy. You checked my house when I was scared that someone was inside. You lay beside me when I was scared to wake up alone. You even want to work on yourself and help me better myself. You helped things feel… safe again.”

Thank you… Thank you, Shadow. I made her feel safe. A mutual feeling.

In the core of my being, it beat steady with hers. I rest my head against the top of hers. Words that I could never say. Three little words I refused to speak out loud.

I felt them as strong as ever.