Chapter Two: Mostly Happy

My balcony is covered in flowers. Large-petaled, pearl-tinted, iridescent flowers. Some have a soft pink hue to them, others a pale lilac or rose-gold tint. They look like silk and seashells and starlight all in one. They are strung in garlands all around the balcony's railing, they hang in the previously empty hanging baskets and cascade down towards the floor. There's a small bunch in a little ceramic pot on the table – a mint green one with a cute little face on it that I recognise from back at the tower – and exactly one flower in Sonic's hand.

"…Sonic," I whisper, almost knocked down to my knees with nostalgia and the sheer beauty of it all. I remember the last time I saw these flowers, nearly two years ago, as vividly as if it were yesterday. From a mission that almost went badly, only for Sonic to pull us all through at the last second. They only grow in one place. "These are –"

"Yeah, lunar roses," Sonic finishes. He reaches up with the flower in his hand and tucks it into my hair, just behind my ear. "From the Gaia Temples. I remember how much you liked them. Thought they'd be the perfect thing to spruce up your new place!" Then he smiles a little meekly, scratching his nose. "Happy Birthday."

For a few minutes I just stand there, breathless, staring at the flowers. They really are so beautiful. It's said that they only ever open under the light of the moon and are most beautiful when it's full. There's something magical about them and it's a little while before I can think again. Slowly, I reach out and trace my finger lightly over a petal. They're exactly as soft as they look. Amazing.

"So, er… Amy? What'd'ya think?" he asked, a touch of uncertainty clouding his voice.

I finally manage to tear my eyes away from the flowers and I look at Sonic. His eyes are bright with the glow from the flowers, but he looks tired. There are dark circles just forming under his eyes, and there's a smudge of dirt by his nose from where he must have scratched it while arranging this unbelievable display.

I want to say thank you. I want to tell him how beautiful the flowers are and ask how long it took him to put everything together. I want to say that I can't believe he'd do something like this, for me.

"… You weren't at the party."

The words are out of my mouth before I can help it and Sonic's smile is fading. But he recovers as quickly and effortlessly as always, replacing his uncertainty and confusion with the cocky half-smile that I used to love.

"I know – but I can explain!" he begins, scratching his quills. "So… you know how the lunar roses only open when the moon's out, right?"

I nod.

"Well, did you also know that if you pick them during the day, they die?"

At this, I shake my head. "No… I had no idea."

Sonic grins with a hint of embarrassment. "Yeah, me too. I had to make a second trip."

"Oh…" is the only sound that makes it out of my mouth. The only thing that crosses my mind is a small, fleeting sadness for the flowers that died.

A few moments pass and I continue staring at the garland of roses that adorn the railing, the view of the city, the stars, and the moon – anything but Sonic himself. Out of the corner of my eye, however, I can see him twiddling his thumbs and shuffling his feet. I am intensely aware of him watching me. I know he's waiting for some kind of reaction. And, honestly, so am I. After the initial shock of walking out onto my balcony and finding Sonic waiting for me in a whole new shimmering, opalescent world of beauty, I was expecting some kind of rush of emotion. I should feel joy and happiness that Sonic had finally come, late but still here, as always, and that's what matters in the end. Maybe I should feel gratitude because he's obviously spent a lot of time preparing this. Perhaps even anger or irritation, for leaving me hanging all night only to wake me up in the small hours of the morning. But I feel none of those things. After spending almost the entire night crying over him, I feel completely drained, like there's nothing left over. I'm spent, and I know Sonic can see it in my eyes because he's stepping forward now – tentatively, which is unusual for him – and when I look up I can see genuine concern and confusion in his eyes.

"Well, I don't see your hammer anywhere yet so… I think it's safe to assume you're not mad at me," he joked, trying to lighten my mood. It doesn't work the way it used to. "But you're not happy, are you?"

I don't know what to say. So I say nothing. Sonic sighs at my silence and leans back against the railing.

"I'm sorry I missed the party, Ames," he said softly. "I know you were excited about it but I wanted to do something nice for you. I didn't think me not being there would upset –"

"I'm not upset," I say, my pride finally breaking my silence, and I realise too late the hardness in my voice. A few hours ago, all I wanted was for Sonic to turn up and flash his cheeky half-grin at me. Now, all I want is for him to leave. "Sonic, it's three am and I have work in the morning," I lie, threading my fingers tiredly through my hair. Vanilla gave me the weekend off as a birthday treat but… he doesn't need to know that.

"Oh, okay," Sonic says slowly after a few moments. "…You should go back to sleep then."

I nod. "Yeah. Goodnight, Sonic…"

I turn and grip the handle of my balcony door when it dawns on me that I haven't even said thank you to Sonic for the flowers, yet. But when I look over my shoulder, he's already gone. He didn't even say goodbye. I sigh and let myself into the apartment again, stepping over the empty soda bottles and paper plates that I'll have to clean up in the morning. The lounge really is a hot mess, and I almost smile at how it seems like the least of my worries.

On my way back to bed, I am distracted by movement and a flash of light from the corner of my eye. I jump, only realising a second too late that I have just been frightened by my own reflection. I still have the rose in my hair; the mirror caught its glow.

Tiredly, I step into the bathroom and approach the mirror. I pluck the rose from of my hair and lay it down beside the sink, next to the yellow flowers from Shadow. It's only then, under the resonating light of the rose, that I realise precisely what flowers they are – Primroses. They are special to him, because they were special to Maria. He told me so, once, and I was touched beyond belief that he would share something so personal with someone like me. And then I notice something else – a small card, nestled in between the flowers. I gently part them, and pull it out.

'Roses for a Rose.

You helped bring light back into my world. I hope these will bring some light into your new home. Be happy, always.

Shadow.'

Before I even reach the end of his message, my vision is blurring and I'm crying all over again and I don't even know why this time. But right now, happiness seems as impossibly bright as the sun and just as far away, too.

I crawl into bed, pull the covers over my head and wonder when the hell I'll ever grow up.


"Just text him back, Amy."

"No."

"He's obviously thinking about you."

"I don't care. I'm just about done with thinking about him, Cream."

"Amy, you practically spent your whole birthday crying over him…"

"Exactly. I think I deserve a break from that," I say sharply, placing the rolling pin on the counter. I honestly try not to slam it, but Cream still jumps at the noise it makes. I quickly apologise. "Sorry, I'm not mad at you."

"I know. But you're mad at Sonic."

"And what if I am?" I shrug, trying to appear to care less than I actually do.

I begin separating the dough that I've just rolled, slicing down in sections, each about the width of my hand. When I first started working at the bakery, it would take me about two minutes to slice off each row; now it takes fifteen seconds at most and requires barely any thought, which is helpful, since I don't really feel much up to thinking at the moment.

I've spent the entirety of my weekend avoiding Sonic. Well, that's a lie. Actually, I've spent half of my weekend avoiding Sonic, and the other half arguing with myself over it. Hell, it feels like I've been waiting my whole life for some sort of grand, romantic gesture from Sonic and now that it's happened, I don't have the faintest clue what I should do with it. I used to swoon with daydreams of Sonic giving me flowers, and now that he's gone and covered by balcony with the stupid things, what do I do? That's right – I keep the curtains shut tight all weekend because it don't like the way I feel when I look at them. And how do they make me feel, you ask?

Nothing.

That's the worst part.

"He's not used to you being like this. I think he's worried about you," Cream says again after a few moments of silent, irritable slicing of dough on my part. She's shrugging on her jacket and getting ready to leave the bakery for the night. She only lives across the road, but it's a chilly spring night and she's always been a sensible girl.

"Well he shouldn't be. I'm a big girl now, Cream," I say, my voice surprising me by sounding much more certain of the fact than I actually feel. But hey, maybe if I can fool other people into thinking it, maybe I can fool myself, too. Maybe that's how everybody grows up – they just keep pretending until everyone else believes it. "I can take care of myself."

"I know," Cream smiles. It's the same kind, indulging smile that her mom Vanilla always wears. She zips up her cute, little, yellow jacket and turns to leave. I finish separating the dough and begin rummaging around for the cellophane and, before I know it, Cream's face is peeking around the side of the doorframe again, her ears swaying around loosely. "You know you're always welcome to stay the night, right Amy? It is pretty late, now."

Her concern makes me laugh. "I'm fine, Cream," I insist, smiling. "There's only another two batches to lay out and let rise, then I can head home too. It won't take that long."

"…Yeah, but, it's still late -"

"I know - go, go!" I insist, laughing and making shooing motions. She's always the same whenever my late shift rolls around – worry worry, fuss fuss. "You have school in the morning and I don't. I'll be fine. Like I said, I'm a big girl, I -"

"You can look after yourself. Yeah, I know," she copies, rolling her eyes daintily. Then she giggles and leaves, wishing me goodnight on the way. Then I'm left in silence.

When the sections of dough I cut for for the sweet-buns are all rolled up, wrapped up and set to the side, I take the batch of seed-loaf mix away from the mixer and begin measuring out flour, eggs and other things to make another load of basic white dough - it's very versatile and used for loads of different things, from normal rolls to buns, sweet-bread, small loaves and large. While all of this is in the mixer, I begin separating out chunks of seed-loaf mix.

I love working the late shift. There's just something really therapeutic about having the space to myself and doing some good, simple, honest work. When I'm here - I'm happy. And, even though the mixer is noisy, and even though the kitchen is hot, and even though my arms get tired towards the end, I always get the chance to think without any interruptions.

Or at least, I would if my stupid phone would stop buzzing.

"Argh, just leave me alone," I whisper to no one in particular as it buzzes again. It's about another five or ten minutes before the seed-loaves are separated and set to rise, and my hands are free to read the messages. And, of course, it's Sonic. I don't know what else I expected.

'Hey ames, buzzing ur doorbell but no answer. U out?'

'Cream said ur working late 2nite – want me to come walk u home?'

'Ames?'

'U ok?'

I sigh and roll my eyes, with the vague feeling that there had been a massive role reversal between us on Friday night. Now Sonic was the one pestering me and I was the one dodging him. But until I figure out how exactly I feel about him, I will continue doing just that. I hastily punch in a reply.

'I'm fine, just busy. Almost done tho. :)'

'Walk?'

'You never walk anywhere!'

'…r u challenging me?'

'?'

'Cuz u know me ames, I never back down from a challenge'

'*sigh* I'm a big girl Sonic, I'll catch the bus.'

I hastily add in a 'lol' and another smiley face because that last text sounded a bit meaner than I'd meant it to, and then bury my phone back into my jacket pocket and try to finish up as quickly as I can. The last bus passes by here at 12:34. With a glance at the clock, I realise that I need to leave within twenty minutes to make it. So I scrub down the counters and sweep the floor while waiting for the last batch of white dough to finish in the mixer.

Twenty minutes later, I'm fumbling around with the bakery keys, locking up as quickly as I can, then I'm sprinting down the street. I think I've got time, I should – "Aw, shoot!" I cry as I turn the corner and see the bus leaving the station. It's too far away now, even if I run I won't make it. Darn. If only Cream hadn't kept me talking, or I hadn't spent that time texting Sonic…

Well, whatever, Amy. The bus is gone now. Just deal with it.

Briefly, I consider knocking on Vanilla and Cream's door. She did say that I was always welcome to stay. But then I quickly decide not to. It's already past midnight and Vanilla will be at the bakery from four am to load the rolls into the ovens. I don't want to wake her.

I zip up my jacket, pull out my phone and open up my maps app, figuring out the closest route to walk back to my apartment. I've only ever gotten the bus to and from the bakery before and I know that route fairly well now, but it'll take me at least forty or fifty minutes to walk it. There has to be a quicker way. I poke in my address to the route finder, pick the straightest looking route it gives me and start walking.

Station Square is quite peaceful at night. Pretty, almost. I mean, yeah, it's still a big city with boring high-rises and tall tower blocks, but in the dark – with all the lights on – it's nice and twinkly. I pass a couple of restaurants on my way that are still open for all the night owls who might be up for wining and dining at this hour. Lights flash and music blares out from the doorways of what I assume are bars and clubs. I pass a young couple – a tall, dark echidna, like Knuckles, and his wolf girlfriend, I assume – and they're arguing. She's accusing him of watching other girls all night, poking him in the chest and spilling her drink, and she drunkenly points me out, yelling, 'I bet you think she's prettier than me, too!' The echidna laughs good-naturedly and assures her that he doesn't, but silently mouths an apology to me as I pass. Of course, she sees him and she gets madder. I have to pretend to cough to hide the fact that I'm laughing.

Five minutes later and laughing is the last thing on my mind as my phone decides to lead me down an alleyway. I hesitate at the mouth of it, not really sure that I want to go in or not. It looks shady, and not just because it's late and dark. There's some… interesting music floating out of one of the apartments. Trash litters the floor, there's graffiti on the walls and one of the windows is smashed in. It smells funny, too. Before I know it, my imagination is running away with itself.

I consider the map route on my phone again and wonder if I can't take another path instead and skip this alleyway, but all the street names around here mean nothing to me – I don't know this part of town. Well, it seems quiet… and it doesn't look like anyone else is around. Should be fine.

I hurry down the alleyway, my footsteps slapping against the hard, crooked paving-stones. I try to ignore the fact that the echo of my steps bouncing off the walls makes it sound like I'm being followed. I also try to ignore my eyes as they try and trick me into thinking I can see things moving around in the shadows. I don't need my stupid imagination to feed my paranoia. But even so… I maintain a steady grip on the chaos currents in the air, just in case I need my hammer. A girl can never be too careful, after all.

Down one narrow street and into another, and it only gets worse. Now I can hear the sounds of a beat up stereo and voices in the distance, some shouting, some laughing or joking around. At one point I hear something loud and metallic, like an iron rod hitting a wall or something. I keep consulting my phone, making sure that I'm still on the right path. This really doesn't look like the kind of area that I'd like to get lost in.

According to my phone, I need to take the next right, then the left after that and another left at the end, and I should find myself back on a main road. At least, it looks like a main road. Truthfully, any street which is better lit than this dingy side one will be a very welcome relief. However, as I turn around the corner, I realize that the laughing voices I heard before are right here, just around the bend, a lot closer than I'd imagined, right on the other side of the road where I need to be when I cross over. Great. There are four of them, one is particularly large and bulky and they blend into their rough, grimy surroundings perfectly. I think one of them notices me as I continue down the street; he nudges the smallest of the group who then looks my way. Some of them chortle.

"You alright there, sweet-cheeks?" one of them jibes loudly across the road. "You look a little lost."

I continue walking and quicken my pace, pretending not to notice them.

"Can show you aroun', if you like…" another suggests, leering at me.

"No thanks," I say shortly as I step onto their side of the street, sounding braver than I feel. In their defence, they do step aside to allow me room as I pass. But then I notice the way they're looking at me. I try not to think about how gross and dirty it makes me feel.

It seems like it takes forever for me to reach the corner where I take the next left. But as I do, their voices begin to fade and my heart stops pounding quite so fast. Why is it that I can face off against crazy-scientists and global, alien threats without hesitation, but a group of guys down an alleyway scares me so much that I forget to breathe properly? I sigh and realise that it's probably because whenever I've faced those threats, there's always been someone else to watch my back – like Tails or Knuckles… or Sonic. Maybe I should have taken him up on the offer to walk me home. I'd definitely feel safer with him around.

And… maybe I've been too hard on him. I know I was so upset that he didn't turn up on Friday but… maybe I've only got myself to blame? Maybe, over the years, I've just made it my business to expect too much from him that I forgot to see the bigger picture. I've always expected him to act like my boyfriend when he isn't, and treat me like a girlfriend when I'm not. But now that I think about it, I really haven't been fair. Because Sonic has always been a good friend, and he's never let me down. Not when it mattered.

I'm on the verge of calling him on my cell when the sound of a can being kicked and then tumbling against the sidewalk snaps me out of my train of thought. Glancing over my shoulder at the noise, my heart sinks to see two figures following me, about ten metres away. I'm sure they're the same guys - a skunk and a bulky, rough looking hawk. I definitely recognise the bulky one. Damnit, why are they walking so quietly and creepily? What do they want? A little voice in the back of my head tells me that it's probably not my purse or my phone…

Speeding up the pace, I approach the end of the street and see the other two guys standing there, just on the left side of the street, exactly where my phone told me to go. Great. Well, whatever the hell is going on here, I immediately decide to turn right instead and hopefully avoid it.

"There you are, what took you so long?"

It takes me a moment for me to realise that he's not talking to me, but over me.

"Scratch left his lighter at the bar, fuckin' dumbass," one of them behind me shouts. Then the other two – a mean looking weasel and a rat - at the end of the street have come forward, and they're blocking my way completely. Right or left, it's all the same now, I have to pass them.

"Excuse me, please," I say stiffly, my eyes darting nervously between them both. I'm still maintaining a grip on the chaos currents but I really hope I don't have to use them. I'm sure I can put up a fight against these guys if they cause trouble but it's late, and I'm tired and outnumbered.

"Ain't you thinking of sticking around, toots?" grins the weasel. He's grey and scruffy and he smells like a sticky, putrid kind of sweetness.

"Please, leave me alone. I don't want any trouble."

"Don't be like that, sugar," says one of the guys behind me, and his voice is disturbingly close to my ear. From the corner of my eye I realise it's the hawk – the big one – and in a knee-jerk reaction I back away, right into the broad, solid chest of his skunk friend. "What trouble would we wanna cause to a pretty little thing like you, eh?"

"Get away from me!" I shout. I mean to shout, but in a cruel twist of fate the adrenaline coursing through me hasn't made me braver but instead heightened my fear, and the words are little more than a frightened squeak.

"Pretty things are in short supply down here, sweet-cheeks…" says the rat, sauntering up to me. One moment, his nasty little hand is reaching up towards my chin and he's pulling my face to look at him – the next moment he's launched sideways and into the neighbouring building. With all the noise of the thud and the crunch and crumble of bricks, I'm not sure if it's the wall that's broken, or him. And I'm a little too preoccupied to care right now.

"Wh – the FUCK?"

"FLINT!"

"I told you – stay away from me!" I warn them, and my voice is much bigger now. With the rush of chaos I borrowed to manifest my hammer, I'm feeling much braver. In my grip, the hammer is a reassuring weight; it glows gently in the darkness of the street, warming my hands.

The skunk has rushed over to his rat-friend and is looking at me warily now, but the other two have started laughing. The weasel in particular looks menacing, there's no kindness in those fangs of his. "That was a big mistake, little girl," he hisses.

Suddenly he's jumping forwards and out of nowhere there's a knife in his hands. The hawk takes to the skies faster than should be allowed, considering his huge frame. For a few moments all I know is the split-second instinct it takes to swipe with my hammer, to dodge a blow, to spin and turn and duck out of the way. Half an hour ago I was kneading dough – now I'm fighting for my life! I should have just slept on the bakery floor! The hawk makes another dive, trying to knock me off balance with the force of his wings – this time he's managed it. I trip on a loose paving slab and don't manage to fully dodge the weasel's next slash. I cry out with pain as the blade glances across my arm, tearing both my jacket and the flesh underneath.

But I'm starting to learn how they move. They're working together and so far, the hawk has always struck first. I decide to take the risk to tear my eyes away from the weasel and his stupid knife and focus my gaze on the hawk instead. He's swooping down again now, gathering speed. I make sure I'm standing firmly on the ground, grip my hammer tightly, prepare to swing and –

"Kwaaugghhhh–!"

Bullseye! I clock him right in the face and he's sent spiraling to the ground. Serves him right! I'm just about to turn around and cockily ask the other one if he wants some of my hammer, too, but the words don't make it out of my mouth.

Something incredibly large, and hard – and dense, by the sound of it – hits me around the back of the head. I cry out again as I fall to the ground. The pain is incredible. I feel sick. My vision has gone slightly dark and wobbly and I'm seeing stars in the corners of my eyes. And there, lying on the ground just out of reach, is my hammer.

I quickly force myself to stumble forwards, my hands and knees scraping painfully against the concrete and broken glass, reaching out to grab the handle of my hammer. But just as my fingers close weakly around it, I see a boot push down on the side of it, pinning it to the ground. My shaky arms pull desperately at the handle, but it doesn't budge an inch. I look up.

The skunk is standing beside me now, carrying a two-foot long metal rod in his hands. I can't believe I forgot about him. And the hawk is also stalking forwards, one of his eyes is swollen shut, his beak cracked at the corner, bleeding, and his feathers ruffled. He looks meaner than before and, considering the blow I dealt him with the hammer, he's probably precisely as tough as he looks, too. The mean-looking weasel with the fangs is the one who's standing on my hammer. He's smirking cruelly and the expression on his face tells me that, whatever he's about to do, he's going to enjoy it very much. But I only vaguely register these facts, because I'm pretty distracted by what the weasel is holding in his hands. It's about two inches away from my face, and it will probably be the death of me.

For the first, and quite possibly the last time in my life, I am looking down the barrel of a gun.


A/N: Hey guys! Well I'm back with chapter two and unfortunately, it seems Amy is in a bit of a predicament! Yes, I'm mean and I have a thing for cliffhangers - not sorry! :p

Just btw, I wanna know what pairings you guys are shipping/hoping for. I've already got the main plot-points for this story planned out, so Amy's main 'love interest' is already decided, but I can weave in hints of other possibilities along the way no problem. ;)

Also, loads of thanks to everyone who faved and followed, and to SpeedsMyGame, FireWitch25, The Mystery Unknown and Amegakure Angel for your lovely reviews, they did indeed make me smile. I'm glad you're enjoying the story so far!

Hope you've all had a great weekend. Peace and love!

~ Indie x


PS: Slapped a new story cover image on - it's not mine. Credit goes to whoever on deviantart drew it like 9 years ago then deleted their account. Search for 'Amy Rose 05' and it'll be the first one to pop up. All I did was slap a bit of colour on it.


PPS: I hate typos, but always end up missing them in my own stories because my brain knows what should be written and so ignores everything that is. If you notice anything wrong (besides the American/British spelling differences, obviously we in the UK are doing everything right ;P), please let me know and I'll fix it! :3