Hooker With A Heart of Gold
AN: I hope it isn't too awful. Enjoy, and please review!
The man across from her kneaded his forehead with his knuckles, a pained sigh escaping from his lips as his eyes settled on the figure stretched across the leather chair in front of him.
Chin in hands, legs flung upwards at a 90 degree angle and constantly swinging back and forth, the young girl dreamily staring into the glass of water she had been continuously stirring with her straw.
The ice cubes clanged incessantly against the glass as the professional in the white coat and glasses coughed before speaking.
"Tell me three words. Any three words you like, Miss Rose, to describe your perception of the…" black eyebrows laced with the tiniest amount of silver arched in an uncomfortable manner, "relationship that you have with this…"
Light blue eyes squinted, searching for recognition of the name printed on the file in front of him. This client's manila folder had been rather thick for someone so… unassuming. Rather than finding a case file replete with a long list of mental disorders and medicine subscriptions she instead had several incidences of disorderly conduct and even some misdemeanors.
Breaking and entering the residence of one Sonic T. Hedgehog,(this name appeared a lot, it seemed), disturbance of the peace. The source of disturbance was listed as excessive noise, apparently a shouting match regarding the fact that 'Sonic is undeniably more attractive, stronger, and just plain better at everything than Shadow.'
His eyes widened in surprise as he hunched over the paper in front of him, that last bullet in the list catching him off guard.
Assault?
"…Sonic person."
Green eyes regarded him with intensity as he shuffled the papers back into their envelope and laid it flat underneath his clipboard.
"Admiration, dedication…" she breathed out , eyes half lidded, "and true love." The end of her statement was followed with a long sigh, one that suggested infatuation.
"Those are… interesting word choices, Miss Rose. Would you perhaps tell me what about him that you admire so much? What compels you to him?"
Amy sat up suddenly, her eyes alight with a passion that was almost disturbing, pose attentive.
"Do I need any reasons, doctor?" She clasped her hands together and brought them up to her cheek, batting her lashes as if the question itself was insane to ask. "He's Sonic." The name was enunciated with such emphasis and reverence that it seemed as if it might be the solution to all life's troubles.
He returned his gaze, eyes narrowed with a little contempt, wrinkles above his eyebrows curving downward to match the frown worn on his face. His facial expression could've been interpreted by a person wiser than Amy as saying, "Why thank you, that was ever so helpful."
A sound rumbled from his throat, an impatient 'umm- HMM' that seemed to get through to his client.
"So you want to know why I chase him? Is that it?" The tone of the girl across from him was suddenly serious. "Well, if we're playing 20 questions I'll give you the answers for your stupid file."
"When I'm following him around with his back to me is the only time he acknowledges my existence."
The doctor's expression shifted from a disinterested, frankly bored look to one of mild intrigue.
"When I crush the head of some robot or monster of the week that was sneaking up behind Sonic that could've killed him, do I get any kind of thanks? A 'Gee, Ames, that was awfully nice of you, saving my life like that!' or, I don't know, a kiss of gratitude?" Amy asked no one in particular as she crossed her arms belligerently. She brought her knees up to her chest, laying her head down over her folded arms.
"Well, none of that happens. He zips off right into the arms of some man-eating plant or a tentacle monster."
Her lips started to tremble slightly as she continued, "On Valentine's Day, I bring him flowers and invite him to go on a date with me. It's always something simple, like dinner and a movie. It's not as if taking me on a date would make him committed to me."
She cupped her face in her hands, the sigh from her lips huge and breathy. Amy's eyes cast down the floor.
"He isn't actually mean to me whenever he tells me no, but it still hurts."
At this point in her mopey reverie the doctor interjected.
"It says here you've planned out a 'stalking route' for weekdays, so as to…" he seemed to stare at the words before him, perhaps hoping they would bore into his skull and make sense there, "ensure maximum," at this point he raised his hands and mimed quotation marks, "'Sonic Interaction Time.'"
"Well, his routine is pretty predictable. Thursdays at noon sharp he'll be at the hot dog vendor in front of Emerald City Mall. He always orders two chili dogs, extra cheese."
The psychologist stared at her blankly and Amy began to wonder if this happened to be the man's default expression.
"He likes the vendor's spicy chili," Amy offered as if it was the most obvious fact in the world.
An authoritative cough accompanied the sound of rustling papers. Every few pages a "hem-hem" sound emerged from his corner of the room, continuing until he found a sentence he apparently liked.
"The file indicates that you seem prone to becoming temperamental and violent when Sonic rejects your advances, or generally when a situation involving him arises," he spoke slowly to the girl across from him as if he considered her to be a child incapable of understanding.
"Well you know what they say, love makes you crazy!" The uneasy laugh and the wide eyed, teeth bared smile she sent his way didn't help diminish the doctor's opinion that this young woman probably was crazy.
"There also have been reports of you watching Sonic while he sleeps."
"Well, that is when he's at his most vulnerable."
"Pardon me?"
"Oh! Did I say vulnerable? I meant adorable."
"I…see," he made as if to jot down notes, perhaps concerning how deluded this girl was and the twisted way in which she defined "admiration, devotion, and true love" before Amy interrupted him.
"This is what I'm talking about!" She cried out. The suited man across from her jumped at the unexpected shout.
"To Sonic, I can't seem to ever be anything else," Amy said as she wrung her gloved hands together agitatedly, the words bubbling forth in a constant stream.
"I can't be a great friend to him, not the same way as Tails or Knuckles; he trusts them in a way I don't think he ever could me. When we team up together he barely acknowledges the fact that I'm there unless I'm in danger."
"And if hell froze over twice and there was a hedgehog genocide and I was the last female hedgehog in the world, he'd probably launch himself into space rather than be with me," she finished breathlessly.
The perceptive, understanding nod and the accompanying 'mmm-hmmm' was a carefully constructed lie to set the girl at ease; the doctor's insides were churning with the feeling of 'Good lord, this girl has issues!'
Amy continued without encouragement, her face resolute, "So… so if I can't be the friend who backs him up, or the person who will be by his side forever and always… if the only time I can mean anything to him is by following him around, being the clingy and jealous stalker with a crush… I've come to accept that."
"And I think with that statement we'll end this session," the doctor abruptly announced as he clasped the clipboard shut and closed the file with a heavy 'whump.'
Green eyes widened in surprise as she stuttered back a response, "W-wait just a second mister! W-what do you mean, 'end the session'? Her gaze dipped low to the ground and tears seemed to flow out of her eyes spontaneously.
"We haven't done enough soul-baring! We haven't dug deep into my past, finding out that my father was an abusive alcoholic and my mother a listless bum who did a lot of smack, thus providing me with a Freudian excuse as to why I act the way I do!"
Her eyes were glittering with moisture as she sobbed, shoulders heaving and voice shuddering past trembling lips as if she was the weekly victim on a police procedural drama.
"I believe I've done enough…" a pointed glare was thrown Amy's way, a frown on his lips, "digging."
"You have a pathological need for attention. I have yet to pinpoint any other of your psychoses, and god knows why I'd want to, but this one is at the forefront of your personality," the doctor's voice was tinged with hysteria, his eyes wide.
Amy entertained the thought that maybe she shouldn't be the one undergoing psychological evaluation.
"Your ineptitude concerning social situations with your 'friends' leads you to violent threats when things do not go your way. When you fail to catch Sonic you spend your day alternatively cursing everything about him or blubbering in distress that he will never love you."
The expression on her face cycled through anger and disbelief several times before settling on the gape jawed, glassy eyed dullness of a slightly angry fish. She seemed to stare into space, lost, as the doctor shuffled her towards the exit.
She turned on her heel, "Well, you can take your stupid ink blots, and your personality inventories, and your penis envy, and go fu-"
"Frankly, you're obviously insane," a cheery eyed smile and a friendly wave was the last Amy saw of the psychologist before the door slammed in her face.
Angry shouts assaulted the psychologist as he slumped against the door frame, kneading his forehead and sighing woefully. Dealing with hormonal, neurotic talking animals had not been what he'd signed up for.
"I need something to drink."
Rouge the Bat was not someone Amy would go to for advice by any stretch of the imagination. If she ever needed words of wisdom on how to aggravate hot blooded echidnas, or wheel and deal in the business of gems and information on just the right amount of cleavage to bare to make people question your choice of occupation then she would go to her immediately.
But not for any other situation, especially if the very thing she needed advice on was love. Or Sonic. Or both.
Thus it was with a certain amount of resignation that she had dialed the huntress' business number at Club Rouge, feeling a bit unclean as the bat had chuckled mirthfully upon hearing her request and told her to meet her somewhere a little more private.
Feeling grateful that she at least wouldn't have to circumnavigate a throng full of people with low cut dresses and lower slung pants dancing to "house" music, Amy resolutely pushed open the doors to Rouge's house in the suburban district of Emerald City.
And there she was, Rouge's snow white fur contrasting with the excessive amounts of purple and grey drapery and furniture that gave her home a muted, dark look.
"Excuse me, Rouge. I'm here!" Amy announced, feeling rather like a little girl separated from her parents in the mall and being offered candy by a scary bearded man as Rouge looked up from examining her nails.
The smile she offered seemed pleasant enough as the treasure hunter slash club manager welcomed her into her home. "Well, hi there Pepto Bismal! Good to see you're not as hopeless in following directions as you are in every other aspect of your life."
Amy sighed wearily, already predicting that this would be an exercise in futility. Rouge patted a seat on the sofa across from her as indication of where she should sit, Amy replying sarcastically as she moved, "Gee, thanks for the gracious welcome. Though I guess I am happy that you were kind enough to let me talk to you in the first place, even though I'm surprised this is a house and not a cave."
Rouge offered Amy a view of her sparkling fangs, which the younger girl thought would not have looked inappropriate with blood dripping from them.
"Herbal tea?" Rouge asked, continuing to play the part of gracious hostess even if Amy was her definition of "unwanted company."
Amy tried to ignore the overwhelming scent of jasmine and coughed her reply, "No thanks. Could we maybe just…talk?"
Taken aback by the frankness of the request, Rouge placed her drink on the coffee table and hiked her right leg over her left effacingly, leather jumpsuit accommodating her movements easily.
"Of course. You mumbled something over the phone about the local psychologist- Dr. Brennan, charming man- diagnosing you as 'attention driven', 'predisposed to violence' and 'insane.' I agree wholeheartedly with that opinion."
Amy fired back, "This coming from the secret agent with Dumbo-sized ears, the coloration of a ghost, and whose idea of stealth is a jumpsuit with a pink, heart-shaped chest plate that screams 'Hey! Look at my boobs!'"
Rouge frowned at her, "Oh, come now. Even I can recognize that this is going to get us nowhere. Let's just talk like two normal, civilized ladies who don't happen to like each other very much."
"Now, this 'problem' you told me you wanted to ask for my advice on, does his name start with 'Sonic' and end with 'I want to bear his children?'" Rouge's fangs bared in an almost predatory manner that Amy felt was meant to be endearing.
It didn't help at all with easing Amy's discomfort.
The younger girl glanced at a smudge of dirt on the wall, the soft hint of moonlight as it shone outside Rouge's windows, anything to not have to look the woman across from her in the face and admit she had a problem.
Actually, she had several problems. She desperately wished Cream was old enough to understand things other than sunshine and rainbows and Chao gardens, any attempts to have a mature conversation with the young rabbit garnering her two brown eyes full of obliviousness.
Rouge had been the only other viable alternative; she couldn't imagine bothering Vanilla with her silly troubles, and while she had been able to talk to Tails (who may have been a genius on the mechanical front but was still an eight year old), Knuckles (it was actually a pleasant conversation once he got over her trying to smash the Master Emerald), and Shadow (with the latter being more of a one sided conversation with occasional grunts), she wasn't sure they completely understood.
The shocking paleness of Rouge's face was like a heavily eye shadowed beacon against the darkness surrounding them that she could not help but be drawn to.
Amy looked at her, interlocked her fingers to stop them from trembling, took a deep breath, and spoke.
"I don't know what to do with myself when it comes to him. I'm scared that he'll never see me as anything other than the clingy jealous girl or the stalker with a crush."
Rouge tilted her head. "Not to be rude, but have you considered the way you act around him? You scramble to latch onto anyone who you deem looks remotely like him. You chase him around nigh endlessly without any respect for his privacy. He needs space, Amy."
"But that's just it. I don't want to be another someone who fades away into the crowd. I want to be someone special to him, I want to be remembered." Amy had to choke back the tears that were, for some reason, threatening to spill over.
"I don't think he could forget you no matter how hard he tried." Rouge barely attempted to keep the scathing indictment out of her voice. "I mean, I try to forget the precious little time that we spend together, I can't imagine Sonic being able to push the 24/7 attempts to get either in his face or lack of pants out of his mind."
"You know, that's practically what Knuckles told me except he lacked the part of being a complete bitch. I would be glad to even be doing that stupid sadomasochistic 'dance around our feelings' you guys do where you replace emotional connections and honesty with bruises and insults."
The older woman blanched an even paler shade of white at this reply, her expression frozen into an unreadable mask as Amy's green eyes continued to stare at her. Taking a moment for her psyche to rush around and gather her thoughts scattered like leaves in the breeze, Rouge closed her eyes and breathed deeply.
"You're smarter than you look, you know?"
Amy looked up, startled by the complement with green eyes widened in shock.
"I'll just give it to you straight, all right?" Rouge said with a sigh, shaking her head in as she placed it in her palm. This girl was giving her a migraine. It was too much of a reminder of teenage girl issues and mood swings that Rouge herself had long (mostly) outgrown.
"I could give you all kinds of advice about how to change your behavior or attitude or looks and none of that would do anything for you. Makeovers of the body or mind aren't immediately gratifying or miraculous." The swelling feeling in her chest, a cocktail of empathy and pity, seemed to be pushing words out her mouth without her consent.
"The only thing that truly works, as cliché and tired as it sounds, is to be yourself. Seeing as how you've done that for several years now and that doesn't seem to be working out, maybe… dial it down a little bit. Not be so… oppressive, persistent-" Rouge began to count off Amy's personality flaws on perfectly manicured fingers.
Embarrassment made itself evident on Amy's face with a deep red blush. "Not be such a stalker? I just have to control myself around him, be more calm and relaxed. Act more like I just want to be his friend than some crazed lunatic who watches him while he sleeps."
Rouge raised an eyebrow at the last part. Amy gave a rueful smile in response.
"He makes the most adorable noises when he sleeps. And his face! Oh, it's so cute, his little confident smirk and how his nose- um, I'll shut up now," Amy trailed off at Rouge's flat expression, realizing her story was not helping her case.
"As much as I wish I could comfort you by saying it'll all work out and the end and he'll one day stop running and dramatically tell you he's loved you all along despite your issues, I can't," Rouge continued after a moment. She was starting to treat her counseling session with more respect and seriousness. "You just need to give it time, not worry too much about. I mean, you're 11 for god's sake. This could be some silly infatuation, a girlhood crush you just can't see past right now."
"I'm 14," Amy gently reminded her, curling up on herself into a ball of red fabric and pink quills. "I guess if you fall in love, you should make sure the other person is there to catch you, huh?"
This time she didn't try to hide any tears.
She looked so small and lost that Rouge, in a fit of maternal instinct, almost wanted to reach out and hug her.
Almost.
Where the hell was all this coming from? She shut her eyes and grumbled something about her life seemed to be turning into a soap opera.
"Rouge? I just wanted to say thank you."
Rouge opened her eyes, startled by this admission from the girl. "Thanks for what?"
"For being smart enough to tell me something I should have figured out for myself." Amy rose from her seat and offered her hand in a gesture of gratitude. "I can't keep going on and on about Sonic and forget all about myself. He's important to me, but I can't just mope all day every day that I can't be with him."
"Well, I was glad to offer this little service of charity to you. Next time you have an identity or emotional crisis, feel free to bring payment in the form of jewels or a hunky red echidna. Or both, I'm not picky," Rouge shook Amy's hand firmly. "This little chat was nice. Now be careful on your way out, I don't want you infecting people with your special brand of bipolar disorder."
Amy giggled in spite of herself, bowing slightly before turning to leave. "It seems you really do have a heart somewhere in that ridiculous sized chest of yours."
Rouge smirked at her, replying, "Oh, now that I've fulfilled my 'good-deed of the day' quota I have to balance it out with something sufficiently awful. I'm thinking larceny."
"Can't win them all, I guess." Amy thought, closing the door behind her, the sound of a wingspan unfurling and flapping above her reminding her of the fact that Rouge was likely going to mug an old lady and steal her jewelry.
Hooker with a heart of gold, indeed.
"Be myself, but less so, huh?" Amy said aloud, thoughts of Sonic running through her head. His athletic blue body, confident smile and expressive green eyes that caused her to fall in love with him in the first place. Maybe they would light up in approval one day and he would run towards her, instead of away.
"I can do that."
Emotionally stirring? Worst crap you ever read? Moderately funny? Feel free to let me know. :)