"Care to dance, ma'am?" She didn't have to take him up on this offer. He was just another freelance suitor. He'd be gone by the end of tonight...right?
All I can say is: Beauregard better have another chance in the spotlight in the conclusion of the Chaotix's search for Mighty and Ray. His character deserves more development. That desire of mine aside, I've seen very few fanfiction stories that feature him, much less pair this sex machine of a rabbit with anyone, slash or otherwise.
So without further ado, please enjoy my feeble attempts at this story.
Beauregard Rabbot and all other characters of the comics belong to Archie and the Sonic Team. Vanilla and all other characters of the games belong to SEGA.
Countless stars shimmered far above the earth, their light reflecting off the blackish blue bay as ships of various sizes blared their horns, the sounds audible even in the far distance. Artificial lights of uncountable hues sparkled against the midnight-ebony box-forms of skyscrapers and other towering metropolitan buildings, their shine almost blinding in the otherwise overwhelming dark of night. One building, however, stood out in particular. It was a rather standard skyscraper; there was no special quality about it other than that fact that it normally served as the living quarters of a single resident.
Tonight, though, was different. Instead of the usual, lone occupant, the edifice's 79th floor brimmed with a plethora of folks, each person of a different background and species (since everyone here was either human or anthropomorphic) but the overwhelming majority of them of highly distinguished society as well. Murmurs of conversation and gossip abound in the spacey, well-lit ballroom, the expansive and expensive chandelier above adding an elegant touch to the atmosphere of the formal gathering. Everyone present appeared to be having a good time.
Well, everyone except—
"Miss Vanilla, are you okay?"
A medium-height, female rabbit in her early thirties peeled her gaze off the dazzling cityscape and directed it to the source of the voice. Her silky purple gown complimented the soft peach of her fur and shone subtly yet elegantly against the contrasting night sky as its ends swerved with the movement of her supple body. Large, floppy ears bounced imperceptibly as Vanilla brushed her long, red hair out from her russet eyes. That pelt of hers could be so stubborn sometimes.
"Oh, well of course, Amy, dear! Why do you ask?"
Amy Rose was a lovely, adolescent, pink hedgehog dressed in a rippling red ball-gown that reached her dainty ankles. Her shoulder-length, bob-cut style, and carnation hair ruffled from the slight breeze as her dress did the same. White gloved hands gripped onto the balcony's metal railing as their owner joined Vanilla, cherry red high-heels clink-clanking on the cement floor. A concerned frown lay across the hedgehog's muzzle as she fixed her verdant irises on Vanilla.
"Well...I don't know. You've been sort of distant since this party started." Amy tilted her head. "Are you sure you're okay?"
'I don't know if I should tell her. What if she doesn't understand?' Vanilla hummed to herself, reluctant to tell the truth. "Oh, well...I suppose that's because I've had so much on my mind for a while."
"Like what?" the curious teen inquired, leaning her elbows on the rail and balancing her head in her hands. Vanilla giggled a bit at the quirky position her young ward had taken and took a deep breath before answering.
'Oh well, I suppose I might as well get this out in the open.' "Amy, have you ever had times when... you felt as if you're at a dead-end in life and you're not sure if you could ever go back?"
The rose teen frowned and furrowed her brows at the question due to its unanticipated depth. "What do you mean?"
"What I mean is...," Vanilla inhaled deeply then released a heavy sigh. "Cream is growing up so quickly, just as you, Sonic, Ozzie, and the others are...which means I'm getting up there in age myself. So..."
Everything clicked.
'It sounds like Cream's mom is having a mid-life crisis!' Being the kind person she was at heart, Amy wished to do whatever she could to alleviate Vanilla of such a burden, but she decided the best course of action would have to be to hear the motherly lapine out first. There's no sense in helping out when one doesn't know what the exact problem is, right?
"So many men have already tried wooing me." A heavily disdainful emphasis came with the word "wooing." Amy couldn't help but raise a thin eyebrow at it due to how uncharacteristic it sounded in Vanilla's voice. "But the moment they see or realize I have a daughter, they keep away from me as if I'm inflicted with a hideous illness! It's obvious I don't have a husband—at least, not anymore—and Vector is down at the door with Charmy and Espio as one of the bodyguards." At this point, Vanilla inhaled once more, this time out of pent-up frustration, and then sighed once again, crossing her arms and leaning forward a bit on the railing. She hoped the scene of the bay and the pearly-white, cratered moon high above in the cloudless sky would distract her from these depressing thoughts.
It somewhat helped.
"I still remember when I met Peter."
"Peter...?" In all the time during which Amy had known Vanilla, not once had the rose ever recalled hearing that name outside of the Sunday classes she used to attend with Cream. What sort of significance did this "Peter" character hold to the currently melancholy mother?
"Cream's father—I wasn't quite sure what to make of him at first," Vanilla mused. "He seemed like the typical bachelor-type—haughty, sloppy, and utterly unrefined. What took me by surprise, though, was how he approached me. The other suitors tried to either flatter me or impress me with something like jewels, money—practically anything material. Peter approached me as casually as he would have approached a friend of his." Even now, Vanilla still only gaped in wonder at the memory of her departed spouse's idea of being casual. "We talked, he joked, I laughed...next thing I know I'm inviting him to join me for my post-Sunday school brunch. From that point on, one of us would invite the other, either for special events or merely to, as you'd say, Amy, 'hang out'." Vanilla grinned faintly at Amy's amused giggle.
Happy reminiscence invoked a sigh of simple pleasure that Vanilla believed for certain would never return to grace her with its soothing release of feeling. "And the rest is history. We eventually married and had Cream, and I swore no lady rabbit could have more been happy than I had been during those years Peter was alive." She gazed down at her hands and chuckled almost silently, in spite of the tears threatening to choke her vision. "Even now, I still consider myself fortunate—no, blessed to have known and loved such a wonderful man."
Verdant eyes shimmered in heartfelt sympathy as Amy watched the elder lapine banish the running saltwater with her fingertips. "And you feel no other man could ever compare to him, no matter how much he tried." Amy's words composed a statement, not a question. Vanilla responded with a wordless nod, her eyes returning to the moon. The light in Amy's eyes suddenly became resolute and firm. "But that doesn't mean you have to reject every guy that takes an interest in you. Sure, some of them looked kind of like muscle-heads, two-timers, or snobs, but I saw plenty of nice, unmarried guys who noticed you too, Vanilla."
Vanilla wanted so much to smile...but she couldn't bring herself to. Her gaze narrowed a degree as the truth poured from her lips. "Amy...I'm a single mother with a nine-year old daughter who's about to turn ten this month. You said it yourself: no man could ever replace my Peter, no matter how hard he tried. Besides, who ever said I fancied a relationship?"
The rose swallowed a bit, not liking how her own words just pivoted around to smack her in the face. 'Man, I hate irony!' But Amy refused to relent. "Well, Vector is pretty interested in you!"
Vanilla nodded, acknowledging but still unmovable in her belief. "That's true, but I feel a tad...out of place around him. He's sweet, he's caring, and he's dedicated to helping others in need when problems arise or persist...but that's just it. He has this whole life ahead of him to live and grow in. I could never bring myself to handle the worry for him every day; it's hard enough while we're friends. And Cream, proud as I am of her, already adds enough stress on my mind now that she's a Freedom Fighter."
Amy backed up from the railing and placed a hand on Vanilla's shoulder. Her eyes cast an understanding light as the older Mobian shifted her weary gaze onto the carnation hammer-wielder. "I'm not telling you to hook up with anyone, Vanilla. Just enjoy the company. Remember, you have a life to live and grow in, too. There's not much sense in wasting it over 'how-abouts' and 'what-ifs', especially if they're in the past."
Those unexpectedly deep, wise words sent Vanilla's mind into a sea of ease the lapine had been longing for the previous few days. 'Perhaps I am thinking more than I should be acting. Peter and Cream certainly wouldn't want me to mull around feeling sorry for myself.' The lady rabbit smiled gently at the thought of her beloved daughter and the memory of her loving spouse. "Alright, Amy, you win. I'll be more social from now on."
"Great! Now, if you'll excuse me, my Rocky Bear is probably storming the buffet table in there. I better high-tail it before that pig gobbles up all the cocktail weenies!" And with those words, the spunky Amy Rose dashed back inside as fast as her high-heels would allow, the curtain shifting from the rush of air the teen's dash brought about. Vanilla shook her head at the girl's antics.
She and that silly mole sure made an interesting couple. (1)
'I better head inside as well. Cream and the others are probably wondering where I am.' With that thought in mind, Vanilla walked her way to the double-door entrance, ready to leave the bitter cold behind in favor of warmth and, hopefully, the presence of even warmer company.
She never noticed the taller rabbit standing right next to the entrance—the wall blocked her view of the man. Evidently, the other lapine had just finished conversing with someone else because he, with a friendly grin, backed up at first while turning his body to face the balcony entrance. Because of the manner of this action, he failed to see the woman in front of him...until he felt her slam into his hard chest.
A sharp cry sprang from Vanilla, even though she, stumbling a bit from the unforeseen impact and clearing her head, experienced more surprise than pain. A considerable portion of heads in the ballroom instantaneously shot glances to the disruptive sound's origin. Vanilla, too taken off guard to notice the multitude of stares, shook her head a bit then raised her aching noggin to address whoever she'd just unwittingly rammed into. "Oh dear, I'm so sorry, sir! I didn't mean to—"
A metal hand gestured palm-out to stop her flustered apology. "Nah, ma'am, it no ain't no fault of anybody but myself. Ah'm the one who should've been lookin' was Ah goin'. Ah surely hope Ah didn't hurt ya or nuthin', miss."
Vanilla did not respond at first. She was too spellbound by the appearance of the man standing right in front of her to speak.
He was a rabbit, just like her, only a head taller with sunlit orange-yellow fur, a more pronounced muzzle, longer feet (encased snugly in accommodating, shiny, black dress shoes), and lengthy, snow-white fur that jutted from his muzzle and off to both sides like the ends of a giant mustache. His ears were sharper in shape than Vanilla's—almost diamond shaped, in fact—and were, much to the lady rabbit's piqued interest, tied up in the back like a ponytail by a red, double-knotted band. The ears were accompanied by five large dreadlocks consisting of braided dark-brown hair, starting at the man's widow's peak, curving all the way over his head, and ending at the small of his back; in addition, a series of blue and red beads were attached to the ends of these braids—'intriguing fashion statements, to say the least', Vanilla thought. His stature, or at least what Vanilla could infer about it based on how this stranger's broad-shouldered body filled the beautiful black tux and slacks and white button-up shirt, was lean yet well-built, an aspect that added to the undercurrent of authority and confidence his baritone, Southern-accented voice had already instilled in the woman's memory. A pair of front buck teeth stuck out from the man's apologetic smile as he talked, even as his words failed to register in Vanilla's mind. Strangely, his right arm and hand composed completely of metallic parts right up to their corresponding shoulder while the other hand, both it and its respective limb organic in stark contrast, was holding a long, expensive, sterling silver cane.
But his eyes...Those eyes, umbrellaed by two, thick, bushy, orange eyebrows, were what drew Vanilla in the most. At first glance, she pegged them to be blue, but closer analysis revealed them to actually be a grayish-blue instead. They seemed calm, but, at the same time—her mind instantly conjured images of boats fighting valiantly yet in vain against a stormy sea, of a misty lake in which innumerable secrets lay hidden. Vanilla resisted the urge to shiver at the thought of losing herself in this gentleman's deep gaze, allowing herself to drown in the emotion she felt bubbling deep within herself from simply staring into this stranger's calm, mysterious depths.
If there were any proper words for this impressive figure and his aura, they would be best akin to "the paradoxical offspring of metal and water"...a hard edge and unfathomable wisdom beneath layers and layers of cordiality...but Vanilla held no apprehension towards this man at all. In the back of her mind, she felt as if she had just begun an unstoppable journey; she'd already taken her first step by not refusing this fellow or turning away. To neither acknowledge nor answer would be out of the question at this point.
A warm, strong hand pressed itself gently onto Vanilla's shoulder and shook it with enough force to bring the lady rabbit out of her wonder-induced stupor. "Miss...? Miss, you feelin' alright?"
Vanilla blinked a few times before gasping a bit at how far she had unknowingly allowed her mind to wander...then blushed after noticing how much closer the stranger had brought himself to her. At such a proximity, she could almost see the faint streaks of purple in the stranger's eyes, the man's cologne and breath unintentionally rendering her return to reality all the more difficult. "Hmm...Oh, yes! I'm so sorry, sir! Something distracted me for a moment."
The man chuckled deeply and good-naturedly at the blatantly lame excuse as he backed up a step. A nervously smiling Vanilla tried her best not to blush (although she thanked her own personal God that she and the male rabbit weren't so near each other anymore). "Ah, ma'am, that ain't nuthin' to worry 'bout. Shoot, sometimes Ah get space-out moments myself! Ah used ta drive my ma and pa crazy as a young un' cuz-a that. Ma had ta practically bang a frying pan next ta mah head a'times just to get mah dang attention!" He pointed a blue-gloved finger (of the organic hand) to his corresponding ear to comically accentuate the word "next."
Vanilla couldn't help herself; she burst in titters at that little tidbit of childhood nostalgia. At least he wasn't hounding her or rejecting her. She had no idea how she would have handled the situation if it had gone down either of those ways.
On the other hand...she also had no idea where to continue at this point...
"Now, if you will kindly excuse me, ma'am," the man, with a sweep of his metallic arm and a dip of his head, gave a courteous bow to Vanilla, dreadlocks bouncing and beads rattling in the process (the sound of which the motherly rabbit decided she enjoyed very, very much), "This ol' man's hankerin' for a well-deserved spell away from the crowd. Been pleasant conversating with ya, miss."
"Vanilla." The name rolled off the speaker's tongue as easily as a toy ball rolls off a table. There lay no trick at all—only initiation and motion.
A brow shot up on the stranger's forehead. "Hmm...?
The dear woman blushed before raising one of her hands to her throat and clearing her pharynx as neatly as any lady could. "Um...my name...Vanilla Rabbit..."
The man smiled again, nodding in understanding. "Beauregard Rabbot—as in RAB-BOH but spelled R-A-B-B-O-T-you can't imagine how many times I get that." Beauregard rolled his eyes as Vanilla grinned at his continually good humor. The refined cowboy noticed his associate's expression and chuckled once more before proceeding to depart for the balcony.
"Could I join you?" Beauregard swiveled his head back to fix a curious stare on Vanilla, who picked at her gloves—a nervous (and rather unladylike) habit—the moment she found herself back under Beauregard's heavy stare. "Um...that is...If you don't mind."
Beauregard shook his head. "Not at all—Ah could use some one-on-one chit-chat anyway. Chattin' with all these folks at once gnaws on the nerves, ya know?"
Vanilla crossed her hands in front of herself and nodded in agreement. "I suppose you have a point there, Mr. Rabbot."
"Please, just call me, Beau, Vanilla. You look young—no offense, course—but Ah know you can't be that young."
The lady rabbit dismissed the joke with a simple wave of her hand. "Oh, none taken—so...shall we?"
A metallic arm gestured the way. "Misses first..."
The same starry sky from only minutes ago greeted Vanilla once more as she and her newfound companion lounged beneath it in purple-accented, metal-framed recliners—only this time, neither regrets nor sadness lay over her head like a rain cloud. Auburn lights streamed from the ballroom and out onto the balcony, landing just short of the feet of the two lapines. While Vanilla's hands lay clasped comfortably on her stomach, Beau had his hands clasped behind his head, his feet crossed lazily as the cane lay right next to the gentleman, the accessory positioned in between him and his newfound lady friend to prevent the off-chance of someone snatching and taking off with it.
"I would have never guessed you to be the type of person who enjoys Chao," Vanilla commented with a slight grin.
A lighthearted scoff bounced from the chest of the jackrabbit. "Of course! Ah love the little fellas! Ever since Ah was a tyke, Ah'd go out an' play with 'em."
Vanilla immediately imagined a much younger Beauregard running around in vast neon green fields, dozens of tiny Chao flying around his head, and laughing as the winged creatures picked him up and took him so high up that he could almost reach out and touch the drifting clouds. The cuteness of the thought proved almost too much for her. In fact, she had been finding an overwhelming majority of her thoughts regarding Beauregard Rabbot pleasing for some reason; this fellow was a difficult man to dislike.
"So, Vanilla, what's your take on 'em?"
Nudged out of her pleasant daydream, Vanilla looked down at her clasped hands, wondering where to begin. "Well, I love Chao as well, but I don't think I ever associated with them as much as you did—certainly not as much as my daughter does. I was usually hauled up in my house, studying or helping my mother with the chores. Sometimes, though, Mother and I—Father, too, if he could come along—would take trips through the woods. Every time, the Chao would come out and greet us; some would even follow us for a while or even until we reached home. I remember I tried so hard to take some as pets, but Mother always disapproved of that."
Beau released a warm chuckle from his upturned lips as his fixed stare, already friendly from the get-go, softened even more at the touching recount of family-time that even a total stranger could determine had once been a source of great joy to the dreamy-eyed dame. "Can't blame ya. Them little guys ah really sumthin', ain't they?" His voice emerged almost like a whisper, but Vanilla heard the words it carried all the same.
No answer came from her, though; her body became stone-still and her head never even turned to set its russet orbs of vision upon the gentleman, much to said male's sudden concern. Rather, she started picking at her gloves once again, her insecurity showing. "Beauregard...will you be busy this weekend?"
Beau undid the furrowing he committed to his brows at the harmless question. He shrugged his shoulders. "Not to mah knowledge..."
His answer sent a spark of confidence through her. "My daughter and her friends have a play they've been working on for a while. I've been hearing for the past week that it'll be quite good."
Bushy eyebrows nearly flew off Beau's forehead. "Ah, you're meanin' to invite an old coot like me to a kiddie's play."
Vanilla scoffed in a lighthearted manner. "Oh come now! You look old—no offense, of course—but I know you can't be that old."
A mock cringe flitted over Beau's face. This cowboy was impressed. 'Damn, cornered by mah own words...'
"That's mighty kind of ya, Miss Vanilla...," Beau's smile suddenly waned a degree, "but it's best I keep mah distance."
'What is he talking about?' Genuine confusion halted Vanilla's excitement in its tracks; the mother rabbit, sitting up straight, tilted her head, her expression blank but bordering on a frown. "I...don't understand."
The smile on that man's muzzle disappeared completely this time. He, too, sat up straight, the heavy aquatic metal of his eyes shimmering dimly in the near dark. His voice, when he released it, echoed almost with something between steely sternness and consoling concern. "You do realize who Ah am, right?"
Vanilla shook her head in a fashion of uncertainty. 'Why is he acting like this all of a sudden?' "Well...true, I don't know very much about you, so... I'd have to say 'no.'" 'Was my inviting him too forward perhaps?'
Beau closed his eyes and turned away from Vanilla. His breath streamed in and out in one deep release before he parted his lips, his deep voice heavy with regret and shame. "Beauregard Rabbot-uncle of Freedom Fighter, Bunnie D'Coolette," Vanilla swore she witnessed a heavy tension pass through the man's entire body on the word "D'Coolette" but she wisely kept that observation to herself. "Former resident of Sand Blast City...," Vanilla's eyes widened in startled recognition!
'Wait, I heard Amy tell Cream of that place once! Isn't that home to those horrid Sand Blast Freedom Fighters?'
Calling Jack Rabbit and his thugs "Freedom Fighters" nearly invoked a gag reflex in Vanilla. Unlike most other denizens of New Mobotropolis, the wise woman knew—and remembered—the "tactics" of those miscreants and hoodlums quite well. Jack and his associates, long before the emergence of the Robotnik and his machines, were rogues, thieves that harassed the innocent for protection money. Vanilla and her husband used to have the misfortune of dealing with them from time to time—one of the cons of living out in the Great Desert. Except...what sort of connection would a man like Beauregard have had with those uncouth brutes? He certainly couldn't have been one of them; his manners and kindness suggested otherwise.
So if he wasn't one of the Sand Blasters, then who—a sudden thought shot through Vanilla's mind...a bone-chilling thought.
For every Freedom Fighter group on Mobius, there must be some form of opposition—that opposition, in one form or another, is almost always Eggman. And whether for better or worse, the Sand Blasters, being Freedom Fighters, had an enemy in Eggman: one of the mad scientist's Dark Egg Legions—the Great Desert Chapter, to be exact.
Yes, Vanilla had heard the rumors...She had heard tales of the Dark Legion soldiers being as ruthless and cruel as Eggman himself. She had heard stories from those who had escaped legionization about how the Grandmasters, chosen by none other than the evil despot, knew nothing of mercy and held not a single shred of respect or love for their subordinates.
And Beau—he had been one of them. His association likely ended in the past, though; otherwise he'd have never been allowed access into this building, let alone into New Mobotropolis, in the first place.
Legionization: that must be how Beauregard received his metallic arm, not uncompleted roboticization as Vanilla had mistakenly believed. This man hadn't been a poor victim of tyranny; he had been one of Eggman's henchmen.
Vanilla clenched a fist, refusing to create assumptions based on the implications reality cast before her; as a result, the lady lapine failed to notice the subject of her adamant analysis fixing her with an intense stare...as if he were observing her. Outrage at her own thinking dissipated as she unclenched her hand, her form relaxing but still wary. 'No. A person like him doesn't simply join a madman so easily. He had to have a reason...misguided as it probably was.'
No one deserved to be judged so unfairly. This man, for all his past mistakes, treated her as justly and properly as any true gentleman would. Jumping to conclusions would only complicate matters. But most of all...she didn't want him to go. 'I don't know why exactly...but I feel my heart will ache something awful if I just let him disappear after one night. He has such a good heart; it actually amazes me that Eggman chose Beauregard, let alone someone as kind as him, to be one of his henchmen.'
Hearts skipped in the silence that ensued. Dainty hands began to tremble, but their owner discreetly willed them to cease; somehow she sensed the man beside her had caught her sign of inner struggle, regardless. "I...assume you were also an ex-soldier of the Great Desert Dark Egg Legion...weren't you?"
"Grandmaster, actually..." Point-blank, no hesitation, and a completely straight face...and that same, piercing stare ceased not even in the slightest.
Vanilla didn't flinch. She didn't gasp in utter horror. She didn't dash from her seat and flee from the partly mechanized "monster." Her calm, respectfully neutral gaze remained but had since melted enough to reveal a twinge of curiosity—not hatred, disgust, or terror—just curiosity. Had the situation at the time truly been that serious?
"Why?" Her asking was accompanied by a subtle retightening of her hands. She needed to hear Beauregard's side of the story. Her male counterpart disappointed her not as his organic hand inched closer to the edge of his seat...closer to the mother rabbit's own hand...
"Because...those blasted Sand Blasters didn' trust us, especially after what we did ta them as Robians." Beauregard looked away to shake his head as memories of prejudice and mistreatment too horrible to be spoken aloud flooded his mind. "We were worse than slaves under 'em; seeking help in that godforsaken city only meant p'tential suicide, which also meant we had no otha' means ta get home."
"...which is why you chose to join Eggman...," Vanilla finished solemnly and softly.
"And it's a choice I regret even to this day...," his eyes turned fierce and bright, as if a fire in them had ignited and refused to be extinguished, "but I had to." A metallic fist slammed down on the metal of the jackrabbit's chair, startling Vanilla for the space of a moment. Beauregard noticed her startled response and checked himself by clearing his throat before continuing. His eyes' fiery light persisted, however. "The only otha' option woulda' been for my people and me ta tough it out with our hardships on our own. No one woulda' survived like that. Don't ya see, Vanilla? The man saved us!"
A nod emerged as the response to his assertion...except what Vanilla stated next did not exactly align with his viewpoint. When she looked back at him, her eyes possessed their own light—a softer one but just as resolute and sure; her tone of voice proved no different. "He also used you. The moment you became Grandmaster, you willingly made yourself Eggman's puppet as well. The end doesn't justify the means, Beauregard. You desired the safety of your people and held their best interests at heart, yes, but that doesn't change the fact that you also lent a hand in aiding Eggman's attempts to subjugate the world."
And like a balloon losing air, Beau's enthusiasm deflated as his body slouched. Apparently he hadn't been prepared for such a pride-blowing answer. "You're soundin' just like mah neice—understandin' but refusin' to admit who's really at fault." He almost sounded...disappointed.
"Yes, it was because of Eggman," the mother rabbit replied as effortlessly as she would have stated the answer to "two plus two equals." 'I honestly don't see what's wrong here. Eggman and Snively hurt others because they were cruel men who wanted nothing more than to bully and control people—humans and Mobians alike. Thank the heavens the Doctor is finally dead, though—Snively as well.'
Beauregard's whole body suddenly went erect. Muscles in his arms went tense as his hands verged on balling themselves. His expression twisted from neutral to a terrifying mixture of disbelief and pure outrage. The jackrabbit narrowed his eyes to slits, an action Vanilla quaked at deep down but steadied herself against with all her willpower. His face neared hers so that his stirred bias could place itself in full view. Only then did Vanilla respond: a silent gulp and slow reel-back of her head. Beau only leaned in closer.
"And here Ah thought you'd be different," the jackrabbit uttered in a dark, nasty voice. His lips twitched into a grin, but the expression was spiteful and mocking. "Defending your Acorn tyrant 'til the bitter end," he scoffed and finally shifted his vision away from Vanilla as if the sight of her was unbearable to his eyes.
At last, Vanilla allowed emotion to fully possess her. Her eyes glimmered like shattered gems at the hurtful, accusatory tone. She gripped her hands in front of her chest and curled her legs up against herself, just the way she did as a young girl whenever she was afraid of the encroaching dark. But her fears weren't because of something intangible this time; here, the reason was real and staring down her very soul. What had happened to the sweet-hearted man with whom she'd been having so much fun? Had he only been a façade all along?
Fortunately, the moment of tension lasted only momentarily. Beau eventually realized the emotional pain he was inflicting on Vanilla for his facial features softened. His scowl dropped into a concerned frown and all the disappointment dropped inward on himself. He shook his head as if he were awakening from a long dream.
"I...I'm sorry. I shouldn' of let mah temper loose like that." His almost lifted his organic hand to reach out and comfort her, but brought it down, deciding against the action. He didn't dare to trust himself with handling her, not if he couldn't keep a leash on his anti-Acorn sentiment. 'She didn' deserve to see that. She just didn'. I already drove Bunnie away like that. This old rabbit don' need ta be repeatin' history.'
Flustered and ashamed of himself, Beau slowly and ruefully dragged a hand down his furry face. The sigh his lips
released proved to be the manifestation of his weariness, which had finally caught up to the wizened man. 'That's right, you damn idiot. Look what ya dun did now! You jus' scared a poor woman half ta death!' No kindhearted person would dare associate with someone as temperamental as him; his dark background only exacerbated matters further.
The Southern ex-general nodded his head briskly. Enough damage had taken place already. "It's prob'ly best I head back inside. I'm... sorry for my hostilities, ma'am."
Vanilla only watched him arise and walk away for three seconds before she called out, "Wait..."
She ignored the flutter in her heart when those questioning azure eyes landed upon her once again. "Why did you come here? To the party, I mean."
Beau blinked once—slowly— before he placed his fleshy hand to his chest. "I came here ta ask mah niece for forgiveness...forgiveness for actions that might take this old man his whole life ta make up for...and whether o' not we can be uh family once again."
No more words passed in the nighttime silence. Beau and Vanilla remained where they were, neither taking his or her eyes off the other. All of sudden, the sound of plastic contracting in and metal squeaking sifted through the air as the lady rabbit stood up from her seat then took one step towards the fellow in the warm glow. Beau showed no sign of retreat. Clink-clank went two high heels until they halted right before two dress shoes.
Beau managed a chuckle despite the intensity brought about by the intimate and romantically suggestive proximity this woman just created. A crooked, awkward smile etched itself onto the jackrabbit's muzzle. "Heh, Ah ain't one to evah kiss on the first date, much less on the first meet."
Wrong choice of words...
BONK!
"OW! What the—" One sharp blow on the noggin left the Southern buck a rather lovely parting gift—an aching bump that its owner simply couldn't believe had come from someone as sweet and delicate-looking as—
"Now you listen and you listen well, Beauregard Rabbot!" Vanilla barked out, a finger of hers jabbing the man's solid chest to prove a point...repetitively. Beau would have asked her to stop with the sharp poking (gently, mind you), but the scowl on the single mother's face sort of rattled him, even despite his long years of military experience. People could say whatever they wished, but nothing in war could ever compare to a woman's fury...and Vanilla had plenty of fury to go around right now.
"Nothing—and I repeat—nothing you've said or done, tonight or otherwise, can convince me of letting this whole thing go! I don't just mean Eggman or the Dark Legion or even the rift in your family. I mean this incessant need of yours to punish yourself and expecting the perspectives of others in regards of your actions to be just as harsh." Vanilla stopped her herself to close her eyes shut and take deep, relaxing breaths. That vented steam had to be released somehow, but now she needed to relax, lest she repeat her male companion's earlier mistake. "You are a sweet, loving, and passionate man, Beauregard...," she pressed two fingers to her forehead, eyes still closed, "but, for heaven's sake, the past is past. Regardless of whether or not you choose to accept reality as it is now, things have changed—the Kingdom of Acorn (which isn't even a kingdom anymore), the near deterioration of the Dark Legion, and even the disbanding of certain Freedom Fighter groups, just to name a few. Life moves on."
At this point, Vanilla reopened her eyes; she could feel the end of her heartfelt speech drawing to a close, so she remained steadfast in her telling off. "You can either move on, too, just like what other reasonable folks have done...or let events and people who no longer matter hang over and crush you until the end of your days. If your niece were to forgive you (which I just know she will)...what if you weren't able to forgive yourself?"
For about the millionth time that night, silence reigned again...both externally and internally...
All Vanilla could see was an aged man, an aged man struggling to decide how to react to words that proved ultimately mind-shattering, to say the least. She only intended to knock sense into him; she never anticipated her speech to render him like it had struck him blind! At the same time, though, sympathy encroached upon her heart, dulling the edge of her resolve and causing her face to soften at Beauregard's look of paining epiphany.
Indeed, Beauregard merely stared at Vanilla, the only movement of his body being the twitching of two lean arms that slowly yet surely began to inch upward and forward. His heart pulsated with something he honestly never believed he'd ever experience again. His soul flared with intensity and dared to envelop him if something weren't done to express this unanticipated surge of emotion this bold beauty incited with her assertiveness and heart. Something in him yearned to grab her and kiss her, long and deep. It wanted to shower her with the same affection Beau had shown every day to Lulumae when that angel of a woman had been alive. That something in Beauregard Rabbot wanted him to say—
'I don't know you.'
Those four words shot clean through the minds of both rabbits. This wasn't a cheap romance flick. Perhaps "love at first sight" had success stories in reality, but those were few and far in between. Love doesn't automatically register between two people and say "Oh goodie, we've got a marriage on our hands!" Beauregard couldn't simply declare his heart to a woman he hadn't known beyond even one night. Only reality knew this lesson better than the two lingering lapines.
'Whatever this old heart is feelin', it ain't love, but...' A strong intent shone in his metal-oceanic eyes as his metallic hand reached out to Vanilla but halted halfway, palm facing skyward.
Almost as if on autopilot, the jackrabbit blurted out, "Care to dance, ma'am?"
Now was Vanilla's turn to feel self-driven. Though her mind held no answers, her body compensated, willing her to reach out just as Beauregard had to her, even though resistance initially came in her case. "W—What?" she barely managed to squeak out.
'What is no kiddin'! What the hell am I doin'?!' Yet the jackrabbit dared to clear his throat and reword his request. "Would you care to dance with me?" he stated slower and more clearly.
Twiddling her own thumbs in uncertainty, Vanilla lowered her gaze to her and Beau's shoes. "Well...I—"
Beau suddenly perked up, a genuine smile returning to his face. He thumbed to his own chest. "How about this then? If you dance with me tonight, I'll go ta this little play your kid and her friends are cookin' up!"
To anyone else, these words would have sounded silly and laughable. Vanilla's heart clung to them like a drowning victim to a lifeline in the roaring sea. The mother rabbit gazed up into the Southerner's eyes and grin. "Promise?"
"Promise."
The lack of hesitation and of vocal turbulence flew into the wind and vanished like phantasmal dust. Vanilla the Rabbit took Beauregard Rabbot's hand and returned the smile.
"Alright."
(1) Yes, Amy Rose is paired up with an OC in my canon. No, I will not apologize for that.
So what do you all think? Was the ending too weak? C'mon, be honest, folks!