Title: The Lunar Virus

Rating: T

Summary: He had always been different from his siblings; the odd one out. It started with a strange illness and then the story came out. They were never suppose to find out like this.

Disclaimer: Sonic Underground is the property of SEGA Sonic Team but Simon is mine.

Five Years Ago

Simon took every opportunity to search Mobotropolis for Manic but with ten years and no luck he was beginning to lose hope. Mobius had turned almost overnight from a peaceful dream world paradise to a robotic metal nightmare. Simon had been pulled into the world of Robotnik's aristocrats, for his own protection. He would have willingly joined the Freedom Fighters, if Manic was alive they would know, but he was no fighter and going into his forties he would only be a burden. So he pretended to be loyal to the round dictator, while using his authority to search the city.

In one day, all his luck changed. And it started with his wallet. It took him only a minute to realise it was gone and take off down the alleyway the thief had disappeared into. It was a dead end street with an open sewer grate, and as he looked into it Simon's heart nearly stopped. Climbing down into the sewer was a boy. A hedgehog boy with wild emerald green quills.

Simon was frozen for a few crucial moments before his brain kicked back in and he jumped down the manhole. The child was no where to be seen but it had been a dry season and all there was in the sewer was a think layer of muck that retained footprints.

"Manic, where were you?! I turned around and you weren't there."

"But look what I found!"

"I don't care! Do you have any idea how worried I was?"

"I'm sorry, Ferrell. I didn't mean to worry you."

"I know. You're a good kid and a good student, but you have to learn to listen and not to wander off on your own." Simon peaked into the curtained off area that was camouflaged into the wall where the voices were coming from. It hid a small alcove that had been gouged out of the wall and converted into a living area. The man addressed as Ferrell, who Simon now recognized as the leader of the Robotopolis thieves guild, was smoothing back his ward's green quills. Now that Simon was this close there could be no doubt who the boy was.

Manic had grown considerably but was still small and slight for his age. He had allowed his quills to grow as they may and they stuck up at random angles. His blue eyes still held the mischievous defiance Simon had seen all those years ago. He was wearing a red vest that was much too big and had two gold earrings in his left ear.

Simon felt tears run down his face as he watched the scene. It was easy to see that Ferrell cared for him and was glad Manic had found a good protector, even if he was on the top ten most wanted list. Simon wanted so badly to just run up and hug him, explain everything, and tell him that he loved him. But he knew that would end in disaster. The ten year old had obviously bonded with Ferrell and to take him away from that bond would not gain his trust. Even more so, Simon was now a noble in direct view of Robotnik. He wasn't going to put his son in that much danger.



--

Simon lived for the next three months panicking every time Robotnik would mention Ferrell or the thieves' guild, and watching Manic from a distance. The boy was brilliant, talented not only in thieving but in mechanics too. Simon had seen him disarm and shut off a SWATbot in under a minute. He also had inherited Aleena's gift of music, Simon often found him in the hideout lost in the rhythm he was creating on a pair of old broken pots.

"Be careful going out today." Simon whirled around to find Bartleby Montclair, the fourteen year old son of the nobles that owned the complex Simon lived in, sitting on Simon's chesterfield with his sketchbook open on his lap. Bartleby loved art, especially drawing, but his parents rarely had time for his hobby. Or him at all for that matter, so for the past ten years Simon had been thought of as a twenty-four hour free babysitting service. Simon didn't mind the transition to surrogate mother and father; even though Bartleby could be a terrible snob at times he was polite, well educated, and empathetic. "It's flu season and there's a bug going around."

"Good morning. I though we weren't meeting until after lunch."

"Mum cancelled again. But I swear I won't be a bother and if you're going bring company around you won't know I'm here..."

"No, no, it's fine. I'm going out for a little while, but you're welcome to stay and help yourself to the fridge. We can do something later, there's a new art gallery opening today." Simon swiped a paw through the boy's long blond fur as he passed him on the way to the door.

It was a cold and blustery day; the wind lifted his braided quills and pulled at his tunic. Simon pulled the hood of his cape up over his head and clasped it at his throat. He walked quickly through the city streets; head down with a purposeful stride.

He hadn't been to visit for a week. The first thing he noticed was that the water level was much higher then before, reaching over his ankles now and freezing cold. He also noticed the strange way Ferrell's coat seemed to hang off his shoulders; he had lost weight and that meant they hadn't been eating. Even with all the hardships, in three months they had always eaten well; something was wrong. It was then he heard Manic. The child was hidden behind Ferrell making keening whimpers that broke Simon's heart. It was the same feeling he'd had a few years ago when Bartleby had come down with pneumonia and had been in bed for weeks. With the cold going around and the freezing temperatures at night with no heating... A dry sad sob escaped Simon before he could help it and Ferrell whirled around, grabbing an energy gun in one smooth motion.

"Who are you?" Ferrell demanded as Simon shrunk against the wall, holding his hands up in surrender.

"My name's Simon Beaumont and I'm... I'm Manic's father..." Simon said quietly, flinching as something clicked on the gun but relaxed when it was the built-in flashlight; Ferrell trying to get a better look at him. Simon pushed back his hood and the thief gasped in surprise. The light caught his fur and 

quills; the rare emerald green colouring, that was so prized, that Manic had inherited. The child cried out again, a sound reaching so high only Simon's sensitive ears could hear it all.

"Get the kettle off the stove, the water should be warm enough now." Ferrell was suddenly back into protective parent mode and , with a speed Simon would not have expected from a man of his girth, was kneeling beside the cot the young ill boar was resting in. Simon removed the kettle from the small two burner gas stove, being fed by a propane tank stamped with Robotnik's insignia Simon noticed, and brought it over.

"Will he be alright?" Simon asked, gently sitting on the top of the bed to prop Manic up on his father's legs to help ease his harsh breathing.

"He usually gets sick around this time of year." Ferrell said quietly, gently wiping Manic's face and quills clean of sweat and tears and carefully laying the damp cloth on his brow. "It's never been this bad before..." Simon ran his fingers through his baby's soft green quills.

"No... Get it off... it's... cold..." Manic mumbled, raising a hand half-heartedly to his head, weakly trying to remove the cloth.

"Shhh, shh, it'll help you get better." Simon said automatically, gently pressing the child's arm back down onto the bed.

"W... who?" Manic slurred, blurry blue eyes opening halfway to try and see Simon.

"Just a friend Manic. Go back to sleep. You need to rest." Manic nodded slightly at his guardian's words and closed his eyes. Simon made to rise, help Ferrell with the tea he was making, but completely independent of any thought or his condition, Manic seized his hand in a strong grip that Simon couldn't bear to break. Just like when he was a baby.