26. Tears

Sonic didn't cry; end of story. Close the book, leave it there, and don't open it again.

To put it simply, he didn't find any point in it, and to be completely honest, the tears themselves bugged him. The puffy red eyes, the fact that he couldn't see anything straight without having to wipe his eyes every three seconds; it just wasn't in him to do it. He had only cried a few times in his life, and from those rare occasions, he had made one conclusion: he didn't want to do it again. It was bothersome, it had no use, and most importantly, it was a sign of weakness. It was as simple as that.

Or at least, Sonic had thought that it was simple, since the few times that he had cried hadn't been so… bad? No, they had been bad, but they hadn't been so… ah, what was the word? Devastating? Miserable? Heart-wrenching?

He didn't know how to describe it. He really didn't. And neither did Sal, who somehow had also kept her eyes dry throughout the entire ordeal as well, which had honestly surprised him. Sal wasn't one to keep things in, and he knew for a fact that the whole thing had hit her hard. It had hit her really hard.

And how couldn't it have? It had hit him hard too, even though he wasn't going to say anything about it. Heck, it would have brought anyone down. Especially since… they had been so far along. Four of the six months—two thirds of the way done—and suddenly, complications had occurred. Serious complications; the ones that couldn't be fixed. A spontaneous abortion—miscarriage—and the end result of it: two broken hearts and an empty nursery.

It left them both feeling empty. No, it didn't make them feel empty… it had left them as hollow shells, ghosts of what they once were. It left them not wanting to talk to anyone, made them want to stay in bed, made them want to close the blinds and tell the sun to get-away-and-die-in-a-hole-and-never-even-think-of-coming-back.

And no one blamed them for it. No one really blamed anyone for anything. They both understood that it hadn't been each others faults, and it hadn't been their own faults as well, but it still didn't make anything feel better. If anything, it made everything a bit… worse.

"Sal…" And after a long, Sonic began to wonder why. "Why aren't we getting any better?"

She looked back at him from the window (it had been raining), her expression nearly blank. For a moment, she wore a thoughtful expression. Then very carefully, she spoke. "Sonic, it's going to take a long time to get over it."

"Get over it, huh?" Sonic asked, sitting up out of his half-lying-down, half-sitting-up position.

Shaking her head, Sally sighed. "Not get over it. But…" Taking in a deep breath, she put her arms around herself. Even from the other side of the room, Sonic could see it. Her eyes were brimming with tears, and she wasn't letting them go. "Let time do its job."

Sonic stared at her for a long time before he sighed, sitting up out of the seat quietly. Without even saying a word, he walked over to her, her gaze far off and distant as he put his arms around her. "Sal," He whispered, "It's okay to cry."

When she looked at him, her gaze was both sad and defiant. "Is it, Sonic?"

He didn't respond. Instead, they gazed at each other, the silence saying more than any words could have. Then, very carefully, Sally brought up one arm and ever so carefully, wiped Sonic's cheek.

The hedgehog nearly jumped from the action. He hadn't even noticed—he hadn't—he shouldn't have—what? Sally didn't say anything. Instead, she nodded and finally after what must have been a million years, let the tears take her. She buried her face in his shoulder as she sobbed, and after a long period of contemplation and staring into the distance, Sonic did the same.

Sonic didn't cry, but right then, he let tears fall.

It's a rather sad one after such a happy one, but I still really liked writing this one.

Have a very Merry Christmas! :) And thanks to brave kid, Thomas Holmes II, ShadowEmpress76, and Pete Venkman for reviewing! ^^ It means a lot to me!