The window sill was narrow, only a hand's width at most, which left Metal only a couple centimeters margin of error for his task. Nevertheless, he did technically have enough room, and that was all that mattered.

Metal had learned how to do this from the library. The instructions were very specific. He would need a glass cup. That part was important. Sunlight would stimulate the plant's stem, prompting it to sprout roots, and he would need a glass cup for that.

So he had borrowed such a cup from Sonic, and now he placed it on the window sill, bumping against the window pane with a soft click. The water in the cup sloshed just slightly, but Metal had taken this possibility into account. He had a big cup.

In his other hand, Metal held a single sprig of ocimum basilicum. Earlier, when he had found the sprig, it had been discarded in a bag of city waste, and most of the leaves had already been peeled off. That was a typical fate of herbs, he had learned. Herbs had a purpose. And when they had fulfilled that purpose—

They were discarded.

Metal snipped the bottom of the stem, cutting away the old, dried plant matter and opening up the stem's xylem tissue to absorb water.

Metal dropped the stem into the cup. Light poured in from the window. It was bright outside, and the dew on the freshly washed stem twinkled slightly.

Suddenly, there was a knock on the front door. Heavy footsteps followed: Sonic's footsteps.

"Hey, Mets!"

"Just one moment—I am coming." Metal turned and took a step toward the door. But as he shifted his weight onto his heels, something inside of him creaked.

Metal tripped.

He was falling. He was going to fall on the carpet. He had to stop himself. He reached his hand out. He caught hold of the bed. The perfect sheets wrinkled.

So this was the difference between a robot and a living being. The plant would regrow roots on his own. That was the genius of living systems. They ran maintenance all on their own. But Metal—

Metal would never recover.

Sonic wandered in, his eyes going wide when he saw Metal's current state. "You okay?"

He walked up to Metal and offered his hand. "I'll bring you to Tails later on, alright? I need you in the kitchen for now."

Metal tried to stand, but his motors creaked. He clasped Sonic's hand with both his own to steady himself. "The kitchen? For what purpose?"

"Shh," Sonic hushed. Without hesitation, he lifted Metal up in one arm and promptly left the bedroom.

There was another knock on the front door.

"One sec!" Sonic shouted.

Walking into the kitchen, Sonic took a chair from the table and positioned it to face the window. He then set Metal down on it with a smile.

"Stay here and don't look, okay?" Sonic said with amusement.

"S-sonic—?" Metal stammered. The uneven tone in his voice surprised himself. It certainly had to be from his current lack of routine maintenance. Metal turned himself around in the chair and peered over the back. "What is this about?"

"Hey!" Sonic chuckled. "No peeking. Promise me."

Metal nodded slowly. Sonic was grinning at him with a happy, bemused look.

Metal turned back to the window. "I suppose I can wait here."

"Alright. Good."

Metal heard Sonic's footsteps muffle as he walked back into the living room. The only thing Metal saw was the wall in front of him.

Whatever was happening, Metal could only hear it. There was the sound of Sonic opening the front door, then the sound of Sonic talking to whoever was on the other side in a hushed tone. Then came multiple footsteps.

Auditory feedback was something, and yet it still wasn't quite enough to determine what Sonic was doing within a sufficient confidence interval. What was Sonic doing? Talking to someone clearly, but to whom?

And for what purpose?

"Thanks!" Sonic finally said to whoever had been inside. Then Metal heard the door shut again and Sonic's footsteps approaching.

"You can get up now," Sonic said.

Metal bolted upright with perhaps more speed than he had ever mustered since his accident. His feet scuttled against the kitchen floor, and he had to lean on the chair to steady himself. "You have finished?"

"Yup!" Sonic said, sounding absurdly proud. "But..."

He helped Metal stand upright again, only to then stand behind Metal and cover Metal's eyes with his hands.

"You can't look just yet. I need you to walk to your bedroom first."

"Ah—" Metal hesitated. Sonic's hands were so large, and also so warm. And they completely covered his optical sensors. Metal couldn't see a thing.

"I suppose I shall try—" Metal lifted his foot to take a step, but without his optical sensors, moving proved harder than he thought. So he lifted his own hands and placed them against the back of Sonic's hands, the tufts of fur along Sonic's wrists brushing Metal's fingers.

Sonic was very patient as he lead Metal slowly across the floor and to Metal's room.

"Okay..." Sonic paused for dramatic effect before removing his hands. "You can look!"

Metal's optics clicked into focus. There was the bed with sheets still conspicuously wrinkled. There was his plant, still wilted. And there was also—

There was a bookshelf; a massive, double bookshelf made from dark oak wood sanded and polished to a smooth finish.

Metal's voice was very quiet. "This is beautiful."

"Yeah?" Sonic asked happily. He approached the bookshelf, gesturing to it. "I saw it while we were in Spagonia and wanted to get it for you!"

Metal trailed behind Sonic, his steps remarkably steady. Upon reaching the bookshelf, he reached his hand out and trailed his fingers across the grain. "You got it solely for me?"

Sonic nodded. "Mhm!" He looked to the bookshelf with an amused grin. "Definitely didn't get it for me."

Glancing back at Metal, Sonic added, "You like it?"

Metal considered those words. While Sonic did read occasionally, he hardly needed a collection of books. Sonic had his interests and advantages of course, but data collection wasn't one of them.

Which meant—

"This bookshelf is all mine…" Metal trailed off, glancing back at the plant. Its stem seemed a little firmer now that it had some water.

He turned back to Sonic. "This means so much to me. I—" Metal cut himself off, looking away sheepishly.

Sonic smiled fondly, stepping closer to Metal and gently holding his shoulder. "You're welcome, Mets. You deserve it."

Metal looked up, meeting Sonic's gaze. Sonic was so much taller than Metal in his nocturnal form.

His now permanent noctual form.

"It was very thoughtful of you," Metal said, "to get me this. Today I was just considering what I should do now, now that I no longer have a purpose and—"

Metal glanced back at the plant. He shook his head. "...and I am still not certain of the answer to that. But this bookshelf—it is a start, I think. The shelves may be empty now, but that merely means I have the opportunity to fill them with whatever books I choose."

Sonic hummed in thought, seemingly amazed at Metal's capacity for thinking, then wrapped his arm around Metal reassuringly.

"You don't have to do anything for now," he said softly. "You can stay here for as long as you want. You're your own person now, so whatever you do's up to you."

Metal didn't ease into Sonic's touch but neither did he stiffen. As strong as Sonic was, he had perfect control, and he always put just the right amount of weight on Metal.

"I do appreciate it, Sonic. I will accept your offer." Metal studied his hands. "I have a lot to learn still but…"

He looked up to Sonic. "It is easier knowing I can rely on you."

Sonic nodded with a smile then glanced back at the bookshelf. "We'll go to the store tomorrow and see if they have any books you like. Sound good?"

Metal pressed the tips of his fingers together. "Yes, that would be a good idea. It is good to get out. It is good to gather data."

Sonic snorted, clearly amused, then walked out of the room and headed back toward the living room.

"In the meantime, you wanna watch TV or something?"

"TV? You mean television?" Metal drummed his fingers for a moment but then trailed Sonic into the living room. "I do not believe I have seen much of this device. The doctor owns one of course, but there was no such opportunity to view it."

Sonic chuckled. "If it makes you feel any better, I own this one and I've hardly viewed it."

Metal stopped at the threshold of the living room and peeked inside curiously. "So what is the purpose of the device?"

"Uh...to watch things?" Sonic replied with a shrug. "Some of the channels are like your books, just in..."

He paused as if trying to think of how to phrase it in a way Metal would understand. "Visual form?"

Metal crossed the carpet carefully and sat down on Sonic's couch. "Yes, I understand this. But what is the purpose of watching things? Why not get the data from a book or download it off the network?"

Sonic frowned. "I guess..."

He picked up the remote, turning it gently in his hand, a task made slightly difficult due to his claws.

"I just figured you might wanna try. Technology n' all."

Metal nodded solemnly. "Perhaps the allure of television is not merely the data then. Could it be the experience of the mode of transmission itself?"

Metal held out his hand and gestured to the remote. "May I?"

Sonic handed the remote over, his smile returning. "It's your day, so put on whatever you want, no matter how boring I might think it is."

Metal ran his fingertip lightly across the buttons. Sonic had said it was his day. Even after their years of rivalry, Sonic was giving him this.

Metal clicked the button. The television flickered to life. Sound blared out from the speakers. Metal winced. "Why is it so unpleasant?"

Sonic let out a small whine, ears flopping down in hopes of saving him from the noise.

"H-heh, it's because you've got the volume way high. Here..."

He pulled Metal closer with one hand, placing the other underneath Metal's as he helped maneuver Metal's thumb to the right button.

"This one."

Metal held perfectly still. Sonic's hand was so much larger than his own that it practically engulfed his entire wrist. Sonic still had his trademarked dexterity, however, and Metal soon found the button. He immediately pressed it, and the blaring reduced to a more manageable level.

"That is much better," Metal said. Sonic's hand really was very dexterous in spite of its bulk. "Thank you."

Sonic smirked, unusually smug for such a small thing. "No problem."

He pointed at the device. "Those buttons right there are for changing the channel."

Metal pressed one of the buttons. The television screen flickered as a new program replaced the old one. This time the screen showed a chef preparing something in an elaborate kitchen. Metal hit the button again. The inside of a factory flashed on the screen, the raw ingredients of some future product rolling down on conveyor belts. Metal hit the button again. The kitchen came back.

"I see. So we traverse the options in a linear fashion."

"Yup." Sonic had made himself comfortable, shifting forward in his seat so he could lean back. "Just keep going until you find something you wanna watch."

Metal clicked the remote again. The factory came back, this time the products rolling through into packaging for shipment. "They are skipping steps. The doctor had a machine like this. It required maintenance to operate. Why are they skipping that?"

Sonic chuckled. "Probably because normal people wouldn't understand a word of it?" He glanced over at Metal. "You're just too smart for this channel."

Metal fidgeted with the remote for a moment. Then the magnitude of Sonic's words hit him. "You think I am smart?"

Metal held the remote across his lap using the tips of his fingers. "That contradicts the information the doctor gave me."

Sonic rolled his eyes. "What've I told you, Mets?" He placed a reassuring hand against Metal's back. "Forget about Eggman. I know it's hard, but he didn't get you. He just wanted you to kill me."

He smiled. "But you didn't. You learned. That makes you smarter than he'll ever be."

Metal sat there quietly. The weight of Sonic's hand was firm and reassuring on his back. It was protective in that way. The doctor wasn't here. The doctor was wrong. That left Metal with not much but the null hypothesis.

Metal nodded slowly. "Thank you, Sonic."

He then quickly changed the channel again.

Sonic nodded in return, satisfied.

His hand lingered on Metal's back before it slowly retreated.

The next station flashed onto the screen. A woman was talking into a microphone. She wore a cheap yet expensive-looking blouse and a face full of makeup that had to be at least a centimeter thick.

"And now we bring you a special report from the streets of Spagonia—where we found none other than...you guessed it! The infamous Sonic the Hedgehog."

Metal knew what Sonic's relaxed position looked like. Sonic had just been in it.

He wasn't in it anymore.

A man walked onto the screen. His suit was just as cheap, and he had his speckled, gray hair slicked back with at least two bottles of hair gel. "Or maybe it'd be more accurate to call him something else now, isn't that right, Beth?"

"That's right, Darrell. Here on 7News, we have breaking evidence that Sonic is, in fact, no longer a hedgehog."

Darrell took over, elbowing Beth into the rear of the shot. "That's right! And it's even worse than that! Could Sonic actually be no longer a hero as well?"

Metal held the remote tightly in both hands. Sonic, no longer a hero? But that was objectively false. So this program was airing a falsehood.

Sonic watched quietly, although with furrowed brows.

The screen changed. Beth and Darrell were gone, replaced by a grainy video of a forest. The resolution was so bad it may as well been stock footage. Sinister music played in the background, and when Beth spoke, her voice was quiet. "The forests of Spagonia, a pastoral land. Just north of there, farmers plant their fields. Children play in the meadows. Or at least, that's how things used to be. Now—"

The screen transitioned again. Darrell was standing in front of a menagerie of crumpled trees. Dirt clumped to twisted roots exposed to the open air. It was also suddenly night time.

"For a long time, this brutal destruction of the forest remained a deep, unsolved mystery. But now no more. The metaphorical smoking gun that proves the agent of this destruction is none other than Sonic himself."

Darrell stepped up to the camera. He was close enough that Metal could see the wrinkles under his eyes. "Still skeptical? You won't be, not when you see this—"

Darrell pulled his free hand out from behind his back. He was clutching a towel.

Sonic's mouth dropped open.

"We found this at the scene of the crime! To the untrained eye, it may look like an ordinary towel. But using our world-renown team of genius forensic scientists, we found this!"

The camera panned to the towel and zoomed in slowly. At first, there appeared to be nothing but the towel. But, as the camera continued to zoom, a few strands of deep blue fur became visible.

"Coincidence? I think not." Darrell said off-screen. "Whoever destroyed the forest has dark, blue fur."

The screen changed again. Beth was back, standing in front of more footage of the streets of Spagonia. A crowd of people were huddled around something.

Wait. Metal remembered this scene.

That crowd was the paparazzi.

As soon as Sonic panned into view, the screen froze at exactly the right instant to make Sonic appear as if he were snarling. It then proceeded to slowly zoom into him.

"What a hideous monster, isn't it?" Beth said. She was superimposed atop the image, and she looked directly into the camera. "Those teeth and that fur—disgusting! But we've seen this before, haven't we?"

Sonic clutched the arm of the couch.

Metal's optics widened. These were the people, the pointless people, who had harassed Sonic before. They were back. Which meant their motive was suspect.

And they had insulted Sonic!

She paused for effect then continued, "This is what he looked like when the planet shattered before."

The camera zoomed into Sonic's face even more closely. Sonic's unblinking eyes stared back at them from the screen.

"Sonic," Beth said.

Darrell walked onto the screen, still holding the towel. "Sonic the former Hedgehog."

Darrell held up the towel. "And whose fur is on this towel?"

The camera zoomed further and further until nothing but the towel and Sonic's face took up the screen.

"A perfect match!" Beth said so loudly she was almost shrieking.

Darrell elbowed her out of the way again. "Damning enough, isn't it? Sonic, the monster who destroyed the forest. But it gets even worse."

The camera footage cut to Metal. Despite his short height, the camera had caught just the right angle to make it appear as if he were looming over someone with his hand held high.

"We all know who this is, don't we?" Beth said.

"Metal Sonic," Darrell said. "That villainous robot created by the dastardly Dr. Eggman. He was seen with Sonic when he assaulted one of our very own crew members."

The footage started playing again. Metal remembered this moment well. He had held the paparazzi's microphone and—

The camera cut to Metal's hand. The speed of the footage slowed, and the microphone crunched audibly.

Sonic grumbled under his breath, "It wasn't an assault. They were assaulting you."

Metal looked down at his feet. He couldn't even look at the television. He couldn't look at Sonic.

Beth stepped in front of the footage. "Now, you may be asking yourself. Why is Sonic a terrible monster? Why is the evil Metal Sonic suddenly working for him? Luckily, we here at 7News have the answers."

"It's simple, Beth," Darrell said. "Sonic must have made a deal with Dr. Eggman. Sonic's always been an arrogant one. Being the fastest thing alive was no longer good enough for him. He wanted to be the strongest thing alive too. So, in exchange for doing Dr. Eggman's dirty work, the good doctor gave Sonic these monstrous powers. He even threw his old robot in as a bonus."

Sonic gritted his teeth.

"Not just as a bonus," Beth said. "Sonic's ego knows no bounds. What better way for him to stop us from uncovering his terrible truth than to own one of Dr. Eggman's robots himself? Not just any robot, but the one that looks like Sonic himself. Sonic must have thought he could use Metal Sonic to stop us.

"His efforts were in vain, however! Nothing can stop us from uncovering the truth. Now, stay tuned. Just how big is Sonic's narcissism? We'll uncover the truth after this message from our sponsors."

Sonic suddenly pushed himself off the couch. His eyes were near slits, and he glared at the television as if he was about to set it on fire.

"First off, Metal doesn't belong to anyone, especially not me! He's his own person!"

An animalistic snarl left him, so loud and harsh that Metal could have sworn he could feel its vibration.

Metal quickly turned the television off. For a long moment, there was nothing but silence in the room.

He turned to Sonic and said quietly, "They insulted you. They gathered this footage to specifically slander you."

"Tch." Sonic shook his head, crossing his arms. "I can't believe they'd say something like that about you. They don't even know you!"

Metal studied the remote in his hands. "Unbelievable. After all you have done for this world, these pointless commentators use your misfortune to their advantage."

Metal flipped the remote over. The case over the batteries was perfectly smooth. "And yet, this does not even bother you. You are angry on my behalf."

Sonic sighed. "I'm used to them doing it to me. They've always got something to say about what I do. Besides, it's my fault."

He frowned. "They only tried to talk to you because you were with me."

Metal slipped the back off the remote control. Just as expected, the inside was clean and smooth. Without wear, there were no imperfections.

"Sonic." Metal clicked the backing back on with enough force to mar the plastic slightly. "These people are terrible. They spread falsehoods, and there is nothing we can do to stop them. How could any of this possibly be your fault?"

"I'm not blaming myself. Just..." Sonic huffed, plopping back down on the couch. "It's bad enough that I'm like this. I'm trying to make a good first impression. I don't think many people believe them anyway, but..."

His gaze lowered to the ground. "I did beat up Silver Sonic really bad."

Metal scratched at one of the dents along his chassis.

He set his hand on Sonic's knee. "Sonic. Listen. We cannot always control what people say about us. No matter how brave, how heroic, or how good you are, it does not matter. Some people will simply say terrible things. It is their fault for being so shallow. Just because they think your new form is monstrous does not mean you yourself are a monster. If there is anything I have learned, it is that appearances are deceiving."

He hesitated then moved his hand up to Sonic's shoulder. "You are still good, Sonic. Why just look at yourself! You are offended on my behalf. If you were really as awful as they say, you would not care for me. But you do care. That means something, does it not?"

Sonic's expression softened. "Yeah, I know."

He stared up at the ceiling. "I lost control of myself though. That's just a fact. I haven't done it again lately thanks to you, but I've gotta be careful."

Metal withdrew his hand. He was looking directly at Sonic. "Thanks to me?"

"Yeah." Sonic smiled at him. "Tails said that I was losing control because my Dark Gaia energy spiked whenever I was stressed out. You cheered me up."

Metal didn't respond at first. For a long time, he merely stared at his hands. Then he turned back to Sonic. "Yes, well, that is the least I could do to repay you, Sonic. You have helped me tremendously as well, and I am glad I can return the favor."

"No problem, Mets."

Sonic hunched over, taking a moment to rub his head and alleviate himself of a headache.

"So...y'think I should just not worry about this news thing?"

Metal leaned back into the couch and nodded. "Yes. If these people want to be horrible on television, is beyond your purview. But…"

He turned to Sonic. "But perhaps if we went out again, more people would see you this way, would they not? They would see the truth, and they would know the television is only broadcasting falsehoods."

Sonic nodded with a smile, looking more confident than before.

He stood, hands on his hips. "Well, we'll see what happens."

He cast a reassuring glance at Metal, smirking. "Maybe we can take Tails' plane and head out to Apotos tomorrow so everyone can see how awesome you are. Have you been there?"

Metal stood up. His legs still wobbled slightly. "This sounds like a reasonable action. I have not been there before, and we can have Tails repair my motors while we are at his place."

Sonic chuckled. He then glanced back at the TV, frowned, and looked back at Metal.

"By the way, Mets? Don't feel bad about what happened in Spagonia, alright?" He smiled reassuringly. "I'm still glad you were there for me."

Metal nodded slowly. Even after all their years as enemies, even after the paparazzi managed to make Sonic look worse for Metal's presence, Metal's presence still didn't bother Sonic.

How had Metal gone years obsessively gathering data about Sonic, only to miss this most important piece?

"Of course, Sonic. I am glad I could be there for you."

Metal took another wobbling step.

"Now let us show everyone while those broadcasters were wrong."

Sonic placed a hand on Metal's should, helping stabilize him. His smile was wide.

"Let's."