Me: Welcome back, fellow fanboys and fangirls!

Sonic: Oh, yes. Welcome back to this story which is pretty much all about torturing me.

Me: Oh, stop whining! At least you're not interrupting me aga-

Sonic: What are you talking about?

Me: ... Just do the introductions.

Sonic: We hope you guys will enjoy this story and leave behind lots of reviews! Now-

Me: Que the story!

TTWD Ch.2: But Whose Got Yours?

"Vanilla found herself praying to whatever-god-that-was-listening that he would protect these two young heroes."

It's been a while since he's been hurt this bad.

Sonic's numb fingers fumbled uselessly against the almost empty box of tissues, just barely managing to withdraw several crisp white tissues from the top. He then hastily pressed them to his trembling lips, his body jerking with several restrained coughs. The moment the soft paper touched his lips, he immediately allowed the coughs to break free, the thin tissue barely muffling the rough, loud hacking sounds. The coughs, themselves, felt like they were being dragged from the very pit of his stomach, and seemed to scrape against the lining of his throat, making him feel as if his throat was on fire.

Sonic liked to think he could count on one hand, the number of times he's been injured.

Although, if he had to be honest, he could probably count it on both hands.

The coughing fit dissipated after a couple of agonizing minutes, leaving him panting heavily into the pile of tissues in his hand. When he finally managed to catch his breath, he withdrew the tissues from his mouth and spared them a glance. The thin pieces of fabric were splattered with small splotches of red, the color unsurprisingly bright against the white of the tissues. He sighed at this development, and his unoccupied hand rubbed at his burning chest, his fingertips just brushing against the edge of his bandages.

Still, that didn't mean that it hurt any less.

Sonic dabbed at the corners of his mouth with the bloody tissues, wadded them up into a small ball, and tossed them into the conveniently-placed trash can beside him. He then breathed deeply through his nose and reclined into the back of his wooden chair, the piece of furniture creaking softly beneath him. For a moment, the sudden need to sleep snuck up on him and beckoned him into its comforting embrace, his hazy green eyes already slipping close-

Sonic scurried onto the left-wing of the crashed bi-plane, his heart pounding loudly in his ears. Pain blossomed from his midsection, and he forced himself to push it to the back of his mind. His fingers trembled as he slid them underneath the edge of the shatter-proof lid of the plane, wide eyes trying to see through the tinted glass and into the cockpit. Eventually, the edge of the lid clicked, and he instantly lifted it over his head. Lying slumped over in his seat was a small fox, one side of his face currently pressed up against the controls. From where Sonic stood, he could see thin rivulets of blood running down from a large bump on the fox's forehead.

"Tails!" He cried, hoping to draw some sort of response from the fox.

But, Tails remained still.

- only to immediately reopen. Sonic groaned softly, a hand rubbing at his stiff face while the other clenched the handle of the chair, and his lapse in focus, in turn, caused the wood beneath his fingers to fracture. He instantly loosened his grip on the handle once he felt the skinny wooden splinters pricking his tender skin through his flimsy gloves. Sighing, Sonic then leaned forward in his chair and dropped his head into his awaiting hands. His chest and stomach both protested lightly at the sudden movement, but he chose to ignore them.

Big baby blue eyes peered up at him, determinedly, their owner adding a small pout to their expression; they were hoping that the look would be enough to change his mind. "You can't go without me!"

Sonic peered through the holes of his trembling digits at the brown hardwood floor below, staring blankly at the dull scratches ingrained into the wood.

"But, I'm fine!" Tails insisted, gesturing to himself. "Honestly!"

Instinctively, as if almost entirely against his will, he found his tired green eyes drifting - as if pulled by an imaginary force - over to the large wooden bed beside him.

Sonic huffed, eying the expression of determination that clouded Tails' expression. "Are you sure you're feeling one-hundred percent better?"

Tails nodded, excitedly, a large smile breaking out on his face. "One-hundred-and-ten percent, sure."

Eventually, his green orbs chose to unwillingly land upon the only other person within the small guest room, lying unusually still beneath the cream-colored sheets of the bed.

Sonic pulled Tails lightly away from the slightly damaged bi-plane, his bruised arms were wrapped firmly underneath the unconscious fox's armpits. Feeling as if they had gone a sufficient distance away from the plane, Sonic carefully lowered Tails onto the white sand below, his eyes worryingly focused on the large bump on the fox's forehead. Gingerly, Sonic pressed his fingertips Tails' forehead only to withdraw them back when the light touch drew a small groan from the fox's lips.

"Tails?"

Buried deep within the thin sheets and the colorful rainbow colored quilts was a young fox, appearing so undeniably small in such a big bed that he was practically drowning in it. Baby blue eyes were tightly squeezed shut, and his expression was frozen in some sort of a frozen grimace; his face itself was pale except for the splash of pink dusting his small cheeks.

Sonic's fingers clumsily fumbled for the bright red button on his earpiece as he stood there, his green eyes crinkling as he squinted against the harsh sunlight to stare up at the X-Tornado.

And the large missile heading directly towards it.

"Tails," he called through the device, eyes glued to the sleek, grey missile. Sunlight bounced off of its body, making it shine and dazzle like a shooting star racing across the sky. "There's a missile heading right towards you! You gotta move the X-Tornado outta the way!"

He waited, impatient; waited for the X-Tornado to suddenly dance out of the way of the missile; waited for Tails to acknowledge his command with some sort of childish, goofy response.

Instead, nothing happened.

Sonic peeled his fingers away from his face because there was no point in trying to hide away from the truth lying unconscious and in pain in front of him -

Heart pounding so hard that he thought for a split second that it would pop, Sonic yelled into the earpiece again. "Tails!"

There was no answer; there was no movement from the bi-plane.

The missile inched ever closer, gray, mucky smoke billowing from it as it streaked across the sky.

Sonic's feet itched for action; for its owner to do something. He responded to the feeling by moving, jogging across the sticky white sand as he now screamed into the earpiece.

"TAILS!"

He pushed himself to move faster; to move quickly until the world around him blurred except for the sight of the X-Tornado hovering innocently above him. Then-

He jumped.

- and rubbed at his burning, watering eyes; they were aching and drooping against his permission because he was just so tired, but he refused to allow himself to rest.

He floated; he soared upwards into the sky, eyes locked firmly on the missile that was practically seconds away from the bi-plane. Then, suddenly, he was there wedged between the missile and the bi-plane. With nothing left by mere milliseconds until the missile hit, he spread his arms out and prepared himself to take the hit.

And, it hurt.

All the air in his lungs was immediately knocked out of him, as the missile slammed into his stomach. That was a split second before it-

Exploded.

Because it was all his fault - it was always his fault when he failed those close to him - and he should've been capable of doing more to assure that things such as this never happen.

He was the hero, and yet he always seemed to fail to save those who mattered most to him.

All because he was still too slow.

His whole world lit up into various degrees of oranges and reds and a blinding shade of white and was instantly followed by the feeling of fire crawling across his chest and his stomach. His vision blurred, and he was dimly aware of the fact that he was falling through the air before everything went-

Black.

A sudden gentle knocking sliced through his thick, syrupy thoughts like that of a knife through butter, and effectively succeeded in bringing all his swirling reflections to a screeching halt. His head snapped up from its downturned position, and he was all too suddenly aware of the tears of frustration that had achieved in sliding through his weakened defenses; currently, they were running down his cheeks, and dripping from his chin. His eyes raced to the wooden door located at the front of the room where the knocking was supposedly coming from.

"Sonic?" A soft voice called out, loud enough to seep through the thick door, but quiet enough to not disturb the occupants within.

Recognizing the person behind the voice, he immediately scrubbed at the lingering water on his face, hoping to erase any trace of the fact that he had been crying. "Yeah?" He responded once he was sure he was clear.

There was a pause, and for a minute, Sonic could feel the silence from earlier bleeding back into the room before the voice called out again, "Do you mind if I come in?"

Sonic hesitated, and his emerald eyes instantly snapped to the trash can sitting dejectedly beside him. His eyes widened and, thinking quickly, Sonic shot his foot out and kicked the gray receptacle underneath the bed, the bloodied tissues disappearing.

"Sonic-?"

"Uh, yeah, Vanilla," Sonic drew in a quivering breath, internally reining in all of his earlier negative thoughts. "Y-you're good to come in."

The wooden door slowly peeled open, the rusty hinges creaking loudly in the original silence of the bedroom. From the other side of the door, several rays from the afternoon sun poured in, lightly illuminating the insides of the room. For the first time, Sonic noticed that the windows around him were covered, the thin curtains drawn. A silhouette appeared in the sunlight, and Sonic watched as Vanilla strode into the room, wearing a simple flowery, pink long-sleeved dress, and black slippers instead of her usual outfit.

The instant in which Sonic moved in Vanilla's line of sight, she gave him a familiar gentle smile, although he could easily see that her smile couldn't quite reach her eyes. Sonic swore that he could see quiet, concern swimming deep within the warm chocolate depths. Ignoring the look, Sonic forced himself to return Vanilla's silent greeting, plastering a small, shy smile onto his face. However, Sonic soon found his gaze moving from Vanilla's searching eyes, and lingering on the large white-and-red first aid box clutched tightly in her hands, his weak smile draining from his lips. Vanilla eventually noticed his sudden shift in attention, and her eyes followed him to the white box.

"Oh, I apologize," Vanilla muttered, her soft voice lowered in mindfulness of the snoozing child in the room. Sonic raised a brow in confusion and before he could ask her to clarify her sudden apology, Vanilla continued. "I should've informed you that I was coming to change your bandages."

"It's okay, Ms- uh, I mean Vanilla." Vanilla chuckled at Sonic's flustered look, and he responded by awkwardly rubbing at the nape of his neck; although, he was grateful that he managed to somewhat lessen the awkwardness in the room. Despite not being what he would call a "gentleman", Sonic did pick up the habit of referring to some of his elders by their proper title - most likely a byproduct of his time spent with Vanilla and her daughter. But, Vanilla had once told him - a few years back, if he could remember clearly - to forgo using such a title, and to simply refer to her by first name, "Vanilla".

Vanilla had stood by the small white, squat stove amid her kitchen, the afternoon sun lighting up the area - including her - in a soft glow. Sonic was sitting on her brown countertop, short light blue legs swinging in imitation of a special rhythm only he knew. He distinctly recalled the strong scent of cinnamon, tinkling his nose as he sat there, light green eyes studying the older woman. Vanilla had just shoved a freshly made pie into her oven - was it butterscotch, again? - and now, she was in the middle of patting a thick layer of flour from her pink apron, the powdery dust flying around her in a white cloud, when she had suddenly turned to him.

"You don't have to call me that, you know, dear." Her voice was young and sweet, and it sometimes made Sonic forget that Vanilla had a young daughter, already.

Sonic had blinked, confused by the sudden turn in their conversation. "Hm?"

"Ms." She clarified, smiling kindly at him, as she reached behind her and untied her apron from around her waist. "It makes me sound much too old, and besides," her brown eyes suddenly shifted, and some dark emotion lurked within their depths. "The title reminds me a little too much of what I no longer have."

Sonic's eyes had looked away from hers at that moment, and stared past them into her living room; at the picture frame that sat just out of sight for those who didn't know how to look. The photo inside of the frame was of simpler times where a tall, male rabbit swung his arm around the shoulders of a shorter, daintier rabbit, and smiled brightly at the camera. Sonic personally had never known the man - though, he honestly wished he could've - but he could see the effects that he still had on Vanilla's tender heart.

Sonic had never questioned Vanilla about who he was, either; he, truthfully, never felt obligated to. Vanilla had welcomed him into her household, despite knowing the trouble that continuously licked at his heels, and all without questioning him about the mysteries of his past (where are your parents, dear?). And, Sonic felt he should at least try and repay Vanilla by respecting her business and swallowing back any intruding questions. Besides, in a way, Sonic felt like he had found someone who could understand that aching feeling of missing something important.

"Also," Sonic's attention had immediately snapped back to Vanilla, who had folded her dirtied apron in a neat square, and clenched it in her arms. At some point, that pain - pain, in which Sonic was familiar with - had dissipated from her expression, and was instead replaced with her usual look of kindness. "I believe you have more than earned the privilege of simply calling me, "Vanilla"."

Sonic had remembered the distinct feeling of his cheeks reddening, and a sudden warmth had bloomed within his chest. "Oh, uh, okay," He had stammered, surprised, feet pausing in mid-air, and his rhythm long-forgotten. Vanilla had always appeared as someone who was prim and proper, and it was one of the reasons why he often believed he should at least put the Ms. before her name, to give off the appearance that he did truly respect her. "Vanilla, then."

Vanilla's smile had brightened, and she lightly patted his hand, which was pressed up against the counter-top. "Thank you, Sonic."

"That's good to know."

Vanilla's motherly voice - now tinged with age and wisdom, but just as soft as he remembered - pierced through his memories of the past, and successfully pulled him back into the present. Sonic blinked, almost confused about where he was at the current moment before he found himself refocusing on Vanilla, who was currently continuing her voyage further into the room.

Vanilla's footsteps were light and careful, the older rabbit taking care to avoid any creaking floorboards beneath her as she headed towards the only other unoccupied bed in the room and the small, brown wooden nightstand next to it. Abruptly, Vanilla halted near the edge of the bed, her brown eyes seemingly glued onto something on the nightstand. This time, it was Sonic who followed her attentive stare, and his eyes eventually fell upon the only item that was currently resting on the nightstand. It was a small white bowl filled to the brim with some sort of soup that contained several chunks within it.

Sonic just barely resisted the urge to face-palm, as he stared at the obviously untouched bowl of food that Vanilla had made him several hours ago. He had forgotten to move the bowl to somewhere Vanilla wouldn't see it; it was dishonest, he knew that, but he really didn't want to worry Vanilla any further than he had already. Sonic opened his mouth - maybe to apologize or to make up some sort of excuse - but he was quickly cut off when Vanilla began to move again. She moved closer towards the desk, a hand reaching out to pick up the bowl. Sonic bit his lip in anticipation as Vanilla studied its contents, the room going silent once again.

"Sonic," Vanilla murmured, her gentle eyes firmly glued onto the white oval bowl in her gloved hands. Sonic's triangular ears perked up at the sudden change in her voice, and he could easily pick out the ever-present motherly concern that had wormed its the way in. "Have you eaten anything, at all, today?"

Sonic shrugged lightly, despite knowing that Vanilla's warm eyes weren't currently on him. A tiny voice within him quietly reminded him that he could easily lie to Vanilla, so she doesn't worry about him, but Sonic ignored it. The last thing he wanted to do was openly lie to someone who was just trying to make sure he was okay. "No," he said, timidly. "I haven't felt all that hungry today, Vanilla."

Vanilla sighed at his response, her head lightly shaking in disapproval of his actions. Her hand carefully lowered the small bowl back onto the nightstand. "Sonic-"

Sonic scrubbed a gloved hand over his face, exhaustion creeping into his fragile facade. "I know, Vanilla," he interrupted, tired.

"I know, you know, dear," Vanilla stated, her eyes wandering over to Sonic's. Their eyes briefly met in the middle - warm, chocolatey brown filled with worry colliding with sharp, exhausted green filled with guilt - before Sonic himself forcefully shattered the connection by looking away. "But you need to eat something. It'll help you get your strength back."

Sonic acknowledged her motherly advice with a small nod but otherwise didn't give her a true verbal response on whether or not he was willing to eat anything. Vanilla breathed out through her nose - being careful to make the sound as quiet as possible - at Sonic's usual stubbornness and his distinct way of simply brushing off someone's concern. The hedgehog was known to be extremely ignorant of his own personal well-being, and he'd often disregard his own health unless someone either pointed it out or Sonic involuntarily buckled from the pressure. Vanilla would rather avoid waiting until the ever-pressing weight laying atop Sonic's shoulders became too much for his body to handle.

Besides, it felt uncomfortable to be the one reminding Sonic to eat something. The hedgehog had a track record of having a rather hearty appetite whenever he and the others came over to Vanilla's home, eagerly devouring anything she placed before him. In fact, Vanilla would occasionally invite Sonic over whenever she tried out a new recipe and needed someone to taste test it. So, if Sonic was willing to decline food, it usually meant that something was wrong.

Vanilla popped the first aid kit open, the sharp click echoing in the otherwise quiet room. She vaguely remembered a time in which the kit simply sat, collecting dust on the top of the medicine cabinet in the bathroom. Now, Vanilla found herself having to often resupply it. Although, she never complained about it. She'd rather Sonic and the others come to her because heaven-knows what they may do if they didn't. (She knows for a fact that Sonic could - and would - avoid hospital visit if he felt like he didn't need it).

She pulled out a roll of bright white bandages, alcohol, and some gauze. Vanilla also picked up a large tube of antibiotic ointment, and she scowled at how thin it looked. Nevertheless, she placed her items onto the nightstand, her eyes drifting onto the bed beside her.

The small guest bed was virtually untouched, the bedsheets undisturbed; they were still tucked back into its original position. Vanilla considered asking Sonic herself whether the hedgehog had actually gotten any rest the last time she'd seen him, but decided against it. She had a sinking feeling that she wouldn't like his reply.

"Sonic," Vanilla called instead, twisting her head to look at the young hedgehog. Sonic had been in the midst of gazing blankly at his signature scuffed-up red sneakers and, when he heard his name, the hedgehog instantly picked his head up. Once she had his undivided attention, Vanilla patted the soft sheets atop the bed. "Do you mind moving over here?"

Sonic nodded, curtly, his eyes still not quite meeting hers. "Of course."

Without further ado, he carefully pushed himself upwards, supporting his unsteady body with his trembling arms. As soon as he was standing, an unexpected sharp pain struck his tender midsection, and Sonic bit down on his bottom lip in a small effort to restrain the resulting groan that wanted to slip through his lips. His emerald eyes immediately snapped over to Vanilla, and he was relieved to find that the rabbit had turned her back to him and was now focused on unrolling a thick wad of bandages. Sonic realized that the uncomfortable sensation had left him nearly doubled over, and the hedgehog quickly straightened himself out before Vanilla could take notice.

He gradually made his way over to the unoccupied bed and sat upon it, his body sinking into the velvety softness of the several covers and quilts that lined its surface. His tired body quietly demanded that he'd take this opportunity to rest, and he could feel an imaginary force pulling down towards the bed. Sonic ignored the tempting beckoning and, instead, the blue hedgehog merely watched as Vanilla scooped up her supplies and placed them on the bed beside him. The older rabbit then pulled a chair up and sat on the edge of it, digging through her little pile of medical supplies.

Vanilla dug out a small pair of silver scissors, the tip of the medical tool angled slightly to the side. She studied the small piece of equipment for a few seconds, and then she looked over to Sonic, a clear question in her eyes. "Do you mind if I..?"

Sonic nodded, moving his arms away, so the female rabbit could easily access his bandaged torso. "It's no problem, Vanilla. You don't even need to ask."

Vanilla smiled, thinly, and she scooted her chair closer to him. She extended her delicate hands out, reaching towards his stomach. Gingerly, she slid the tip of the scissors underneath the bandages, careful to not aggravate the tender skin beneath. The motherly rabbit snipped the bandages, and they gradually fell away in her gloved hands. A hard frown graced her lips as she studied them, the underside of the dressings stained with blood and pus. She tugged them away from Sonic's wounds, and he could tell that she was trying her best to be gentle. Even so, Sonic found himself flinching against his will when the dressings pulled against his wound, a weak wince slipping between his lips.

Vanilla's motherly hand instantly stilled at the sound, and she gave him a sympathetic smile. "Sorry about that, dear."

Sonic dismissed her apology with a wave of his hand, returning her smile with one of his own. "It's fine."

Vanilla nodded, and she continued to unwrap the bandages from Sonic's stomach. He couldn't help but notice that her usual motherly touch had somehow lightened even more than before. It was as if the older rabbit was afraid that he would simply crumble underneath her fingertips if she so much as pulled too hard. Eventually, the rest of the dressings fell away, gathering into a small red pile on the glossy surface of the hardwood floor and revealing the true state of Sonic's injury. The areas around the corners of the wound were incredibly puffy, the raised skin tinted a dark pink. Further in, severe burns littered several patches of the skin, sluggishly leaking out small rivers of blood.

Vanilla winced.

"Heh," Sonic chuckled, airly and, for a split second, she forgot that he was still there. "That great, huh?"

The rabbit could plainly see that Sonic was advocating to make light of such a grim situation, but she couldn't quite bring herself to react with that same kind of unshakable positivity. Instead, she pressed her lips into a straight line, and she dug through her pile of medical supplies. She pulled out a medium-sized brown bottle of alcohol and a bag of cotton balls, and she wasted no time dipping a cotton ball into the bottle.

"This might burn a little," Vanilla warned.

Sonic shrugged, the same non-caring smile plastered on his face. "No sweat. I can handle it."

This time, Vanilla managed to give him a tiny smile, and she dabbed the cotton ball against the surface of Sonic's wound. Sonic unconsciously stiffened under her hand but, other than that, he didn't visually react.

She could vividly recall the earlier days when Cream was just a small toddler, and her daughter would occasionally fall and scrape her tender knees. Those were the only times Vanilla could remember ever having to pull the first aid kit down from the cabinet in the bathroom. Cream always cried whenever Vanilla applied the disinfectant to her cuts, whining about the way it burned. Even now, Cream would tear up. Yet, Sonic simply sat before her, the same calm, unbothered expression on his face. Not even a grimace or wince.

She quietly wondered how many times he had to sit through something like this. How many times was it someone else besides Vanilla, trying to put Sonic back together after a fight someone twice his age should be fighting?

How many times was it Sonic himself?

The thought tugged at one of Vanilla's many heartstrings, and it took everything in her power to not pull Sonic into a warm embrace. It took everything she had to not simply protect these two sweet boys - Sonic and Tails - from their cruel destinies that the universe decided for them.

Instead, Vanilla finished up with the alcohol, and she traded the bottle for a small white tube of antibiotic ointment. She squirted a miniature hill of the white paste onto her hand, and she regarded Sonic.

"How are your ribs?" Vanilla asked, gently. She leaned forward and smoothed the paste to the surface of Sonic's damaged skin. "Are they still bothering you?"

"They're fine," Sonic answered, automatically. Vanilla shot him a look as her hands roamed closer to the area of question, closer to where Sonic's flesh slowly changed into a mass of healing blue and black bruises. When Sonic took note, he cleared his throat. "And by 'fine', I mean that they're still a little sore."

Vanilla hummed, somewhat pleased with Sonic's confession. Her hand hovered over the bruises and, her curiosity taking a hold of her, she found herself pressing two fingers into Sonic's side. The blue hedgehog immediately jolted at the harsh sensation, a sharp grunt of pain coming from his mouth. Vanilla's hands instantly drew back at Sonic's unexpected reaction, and she placed them on Sonic's shoulders in worry

"Oh, I'm sorry, dear," Vanilla said, her eyes studying the pained expression on Sonic's face. "I didn't mean to hurt you. Are you okay?"

"Yeah," Sonic grounded out through his gritted teeth. "I'm good. I'm just a little more sore than I thought."

The corners of Vanilla's lips pulled down into a frown. "Without any medical equipment, I can't tell if they're healing properly or not-"

"There's no need, Vanilla," Sonic stated, confidently. "I'm fine. Besides, I've got you looking out for me."

Sonic's confidence in her warmed Vanilla's heart. "Still, Sonic. I'm no doctor."

"No, you've got me there," Sonic chuckled, lightly, a grin mixing in with the fading pain on his face. "But, I like to think you're the next best thing."

Vanilla rose an eyebrow, eying Sonic's pale complexion, and she extended her hand out towards the forgotten first aid kit. "Do you need any pain medication, dear? I think I have-"

Sonic rested his hand on her arm, halting her from going any further. "No, it's fine. I can handle it."

Vanilla nodded, hesitantly, and she dropped her arm. She wasn't going to argue against Sonic on the matter of his pain tolerance. She imagined that, at this point in the young hedgehog's life, Sonic had a good enough of an idea of exactly how much pain he could handle. It was a concerning thing to think about; that Sonic had gone through so much that pain was a familiar enough of a sensation to him.

Vanilla shook the thought from her head, and she stole a roll of bandages from her pile. Quietly, she began to unroll them when she paused, a particular thought now making itself known in her mind.

"Sonic?"

"Hmm?" Sonic hummed.

"Have you been coughing up any more blood?"

The hedgehog froze.

For the past couple of days since Sonic and Tails have been within her care, Vanilla took note of the worrying fact that the blue hedgehog had been coughing up small amounts of blood. She imagined that it was most likely the result of some internal bleeding, and Vanilla didn't need to be a nurse to know that wasn't a good sign.

Vanilla peered up at the hedgehog, realizing that he had yet to answer. "Sonic-?"

"Uh," Sonic scratched along his chin with his finger, his green eyes focused upon something behind her. "Not really."

Vanilla furrowed her brow, and she took note of Sonic's drifting gaze. Suspicious of the hedgehog's actions, she craned her neck around to see what had unknowingly captivated his attention, her brown eyes scouring the room. It was then she noticed something small peeking out from underneath the bed, the covers not quite hiding it from view. Vanilla extended her hand, and she plucked the mystery item from the ground. She vaguely registered the sound of Sonic trying to sputter out something behind her, but she pushed it into the back of her mind in favor of staring into the trash can in her hands. Vanilla's hands tightened around the lip of the receptacle, her eyes widening at the sight of several crumpled, bloody tissues lying at the bottom.

"So," Vanilla looked back at Sonic and was unsurprised to see the hedgehog sporting a sheepish expression, his hand rubbing the back of his neck. "Maybe I've been coughing up a little blood."

"Sonic," Vanilla stressed, sternly, and she placed a gentle hand on Sonic's shoulder. "This is serious. You really should get checked out by an actual doctor."

Like before, Sonic merely dismissed her suggestion with a wave of his hand. "I've taken worse hits, Vanilla, and I've ended up just fine."

Vanilla's eyes softened, and she swore she could feel her heart ache at the implication of Sonic's words. "Sonic-"

"Seriously. It's no big deal," Sonic stated, matter-of-factly, leaning back on his arms. "I should heal up in a couple of days."

Vanilla opened her mouth, ready to argue as her eyes scanned the burnt and bleeding surface of Sonic's chest. But, instead, she pressed her lips into a thin line, and she placed the trash can back onto the hardwood floor. She picked up her previously abandoned roll of bandages, and she continued where she left off.

"Hold your arms up, please, dear," Vanilla requested, quietly.

Sonic bobbed his head, and he gingerly raised his arms over his head. The minor action pulled at his tender injuries, but he just managed to swallow back the pain like a dry bitter pill. Vanilla pressed a long white scrap of fabric around his midsection, and she took her time slowly winding it around his body. When she deemed it enough, Vanilla sliced an end of the bandage and tied it as tight as she could without harming Sonic. As she did this, Sonic found himself peering over her flower-patterned shoulder at the slumbering fox in the next bed.

"Hey, Vanilla," the blue hedgehog began, his voice quiet. "Not that I don't love being here and everything, but I gotta question to ask ya."

"Yes, dear?"

"Do you know how I got here?" Vanilla paused in the midst of packing up her medical supplies. "I mean, the last thing I remember is being on South Island…"

He vaguely recalled spending the last few days in Vanilla's general care, unconsciously alternating between sleeping off his injuries and being alert enough to see blurred faces around him. He also thought he heard Amy and Cream's voices a couple of times as well. Just a day or two ago, he finally gathered up enough strength to not only stay awake but to even leave the bed to look after Tails. But, the vacant spaces within his memory concerned him. With Tails down and out, Vanilla was Sonic's sole chance for finding out what to do next.

"Well, I only know a little bit from what Tails told me," Vanilla stated, shutting the first aid kit. "Before he fell ill, that is."