Chapter 6: Ruse
Amy picked up the bowl of steaming food she had cooked, her smile widening as she turned around. The smell had awoken Metal some time ago, and, after she had yelled at him every time he tried to raid her fridge, he had finally acquiesced and sat down at the breakfast bar. He was fidgeting with the spoon Amy had given him, but his hands stilled as she placed the large bowl down and slid it across the bar towards him.
"I think you'll really like this," she said, her smile turning dark.
However, her smile vanished when he dropped the spoon to the floor and picked up the bowl in both hands, lifting it to his face and eating out of it like a wild animal. Amy sighed, but, as she saw his eyes brightening, she started to smile again.
"Is that good?" she asked him. "Do you like that?"
She grinned, but his eyes were still on his meal. She was going to wait until he finished before telling him that he was eating chilli filled with chopped hotdogs – basically just chilli dogs – that he was actually eating Sonic's favourite food again. But again, her smile dropped when he finished his meal and began licking the bowl clean. She swallowed a little awkwardly as he opened his mouth out wide in order to lick every last inch of the bowl, showing flashes of his fangs.
"You have really nice teeth," she mused aloud.
He placed the bowl down and burped shamelessly before commencing his favourite past-time of picking at his teeth with his metallic fingers.
"Is that the secret to having nice teeth?" Amy continued. "Because now that I think about it, you haven't brushed your teeth this whole time. Do you ever brush your teeth? Or do you just pick them clean with your robot fingers?"
Metal's eyes finally met hers, though he didn't cease his little regimen.
"Maybe I should try that," she muttered.
Metal's eyes narrowed a little and Amy gulped.
"Not like that!" she hurriedly responded. "I didn't mean use your fingers to clean my teeth! I meant I need to get a metal toothpick or something! Gees!"
Amy sighed and picked up her own plate of food, moving around to sit at the breakfast bar next to Metal to eat her meal. As she lifted the first forkful of food to her mouth, she became aware that he was staring at her a little too intensely. She turned to him as she slowly chewed, frowning at him quizzically. His eyes purposefully lowered to her plate and she groaned.
"You can't still be hungry!" she complained. "You are the worst!"
She turned back and wrapped an arm protectively around her plate, hunching over it as she continued to eat.
"I have to eat too, you know!" she added, before scooping up another forkful.
Metal watched her a little longer before apparently accepting that she would not surrender, at which point he got up, walked around the breakfast bar and into the kitchen.
"Don't do that!" Amy moaned as he began drinking from the kitchen tap. "Use a glass!"
He ignored her and continued drinking. She was a little surprised that he thought to turn the tap off after he had finished – given how generally untidy he was with everything else he did – and then, to her surprise, he went into the bathroom, and she heard him turning on the shower. She reasoned it was a good thing that he was at least keeping himself clean in a way he never would have had to as a robot: but she supposed that maybe he had gone through some sort of daily cleaning regime even in his robot form. He had, after all, always had an impressive lustre, albeit one that was quickly scuffed and sullied in battle. In fact, she thought to herself, despite how banged up he usually ended up after a battle against Sonic, Metal had always started the battle looking immaculate. But, she thought, her face twisting into a scowl, the idea of Metal being obsessed with looking shiny and clean only further played into her idea that he was some sort of prince, who cared only about power and shallow things.
She finished her meal and washed the dishes, and by the time she had done all of that, Metal had emerged smelling that way she liked, and he had fallen asleep on the couch. She moved over and placed the blanket over him, tucking it around him. Again, he proved to be an incredibly deep sleeper as her actions didn't disturb him. She was able to tuck him in tightly, standing back to admire her handiwork. With only his head visible, and with his inhuman eyes closed, he looked soft and very, very like Sonic. He snuggled into the blanket a little and Amy felt her demeanour soften. She smiled at him and started to leave, but, as she reached the doorway, she noticed that the large framed photo of her and Sonic was again missing from the small side table of photos. Again, she found it lying facedown on the floor. As she picked it up and replaced it, she threw a suspicious look over at Metal: she was certain he was deliberately discarding the photo.
Once it was back in place, Amy showered and went to bed, quickly falling asleep herself. When she awoke the next morning she was not surprised to find Metal still snuggled into the couch, sound asleep. She made herself some tea and toast, and when even the smell did not wake him, she ate breakfast alone and then gathered up her bag of crafting materials, heading out into her back garden.
Amy's back garden was relatively small, but it was packed with rows of flowers, and at the back of the garden she had a small, slightly rundown, shed. Knuckles had built it for her, and it was more than a little ramshackle, but he had been so proud of himself, she never dared say so. She had wanted the shed for storing gardening tools, but her tools were all crammed into one corner of the interior, as she primarily used the space to create her projects she sold for money. There was a camping table and two folding chairs inside, and she sat at one, emptying out the contents of her bag. Her task that day was to create three wreaths, which was a task she despised. She loved the last part of the process, but she hated the preparation work and the actual weaving to create the framework for the wreath. It was slow, hard work, and when she got tired, her hands often slipped, causing length of birch to snap back and slap her in the face or on the arm. And so, with a heavy heart, she began peeling bark from the strips of birch she had harvested the day before.
After some time, when she was about halfway through stripping lengths of birch, Amy noticed movement outside and leaned into the doorway, looking down her garden to see Metal walking towards her. She stopped her work to watch him approach, realising then, for the first time, that he was so heavy-footed because he still walked the same way he had when he was a robot. His movements were the same, he seemed not to understand that biological hedgehog legs were more fluid than hydraulic robotic legs. She thought that maybe she ought to tell him as much, but she equally found it quite amusing – almost endearing – that he was so awkward.
"Hi," she greeted him as he stopped outside the doorway.
He nodded his head once in reply.
"I'm working," she explained. "Come in."
She stood up and beckoned Metal to enter, which he dutifully did, looking about himself with his usual lack of expression. She unhooked a plain woven wreath in the shape of a heart from her back wall and showed it to him.
"I'm making these," she explained. "It's kinda complicated."
He very carefully took hold of the wreath and she released it into his hands. He was wearing his leather gloves, which was the only reason why Amy trusted him to touch her work. He turned the wreath over, studying it closely, before meticulously replacing it to the hook Amy had taken it from. He then looked over at the lengths of stripped birch she had laid out on the table.
"This is the worst part," she said, sitting into the furthest away seat and indicating that he should sit down next to her.
He did as she bid and watched intently as she used a small paring knife the peel away the bark from length of birch. Once she had finished, she reached for another length to peel, but she paused when Metal copied her actions, picking up a length of birch.
"What are you..." she began.
Her words trailed off as he removed one of his gloves and closed his razor fingers around the thick end of the branch, sliding his hand down it in one smooth movement, removing the entirely of the bark effortlessly.
"Oh," Amy muttered.
He picked up another length and repeated his actions. Amy shrugged and passed him the length she had been about to peel, deciding that, since he was actually being useful, she would take advantage of it. As he stripped the remaining whips, Amy began weaving. Sometimes, when she had an especially big order to fill, she would enlist Cream to help her, giving all the menial tasks to her rabbit friend, and, for the duration of the work, they would chat about anything and everything. Conversation was not really an option with Metal, but, oddly, Amy felt no need to talk as she worked. In fact, she found it strangely relaxing to sit with him in silence as they worked.
Once she had finished weaving her wreath, Amy held it up with a smile. Metal eyed it over carefully, before removing his other glove and grabbing up a handful of stripped birch.
"What are you doing?" Amy demanded. "Hey, be careful with that!"
She was sure his blade-like fingers would tear up the fragile lengths, but her concern gave way to curiosity and eventually awe as his fingers rapidly spun around and through them, and, in under a minute, he was holding up a heart-shaped wreath.
"Hey..." Amy muttered, taking it from his hands and holding it up next to her own.
As Metal gathered up the remaining birch and set about weaving another wreath, Amy looked at her own wreath, which was crooked and loose in structure, and then she looked at Metal's effort, which was neat and tightly woven. Her wreath looked handmade, his looked like the sort of thing that could only possibly be manufactured in a factory. He held up his second wreath and Amy sighed.
"Mine looks like it was made by hand," she told him. "Yours look like they were made by a machine."
She eyed him over, taking in his metallic hands and unusual eyes.
"You are a machine," she concluded.
His throat visibly moved as he swallowed, and something flickered across his eyes.
"What?" Amy asked.
He placed his wreath down and stood up. Amy put down the wreaths she was holding and stood up next to him.
"Don't you like being called a machine?" she asked him. "I thought you were proud of being a weapon built to fight Sonic."
He avoided her eyes, looking down at nothing in particular. She started to wonder if she had actually somehow hurt his feelings – and if he was even capable of having hurt feelings – hurt pride perhaps – but then Amy noticed that the bandaging around Metal's body had come a little loose.
"Oh, let me get that for you," she said.
She moved around to his back and pulled the bandaging away from his body, peering down the underside of it.
"Hey, that looks like it's healing really nicely!" she commented. "But let's keep it closed for now."
She reached around him and pulled loose the ends of the bandaging, tugging on it until he flinched, and then wrapping it up again and reaching around to tuck it in against his chest. She paused for a moment, her fingers pushed down between the bandaging and his chest, realising that she was effectively hugging him from behind, and again, she could feel his heartbeat against her fingers. It still amazed her that he even had a heart to beat, and she found herself lingering in that position, even after she felt his heart-rate increasing.
"Oh, Amy..."
Amy froze on the spot at the sound of the voice behind her. Above her, Metal turned his head, looking back over his shoulder. His glare hardened and his red irises began to glow, and Amy turned her head, looking back at the figure standing in the shed doorway, one hand leaning against the doorframe, the other resting on one hip.
"This isn't what it looks like," Amy said weakly.
"Really?"
Amy pursed her lips and turned her head back, looking up at Metal, who continued to stare now glowing red eyes at the doorway.
"Wh-what do you think this looks like?" Amy asked, turning back to look over her shoulder.
Behind her, Rouge sighed, her booted heels clicking against the wooden floor as she entered the shed.
"It looks like, in your latest, desperate attempt to get Sonic's attention, you've gone out and found yourself a man who looks exactly like Sonic, in the hope that dating him will make Sonic jealous," Rouge said, her painted blue eyelids lowering over her critical, turquoise eyes as she regarded Amy.
Amy turned to look at Metal again. He touched one of his hands to hers, and the cold sensation of his metallic hands – something she could feel even through her gloves – reminded her that his identity would only remain secret as long as she kept him facing away from Rouge.
"It is what it looks like," she lied, turning her head to look back at Rouge. "I went out and found a man who looks just like Sonic, and we're dating, and I'm just doing it to make Sonic jealous."
Rouge sighed.
"Honey, that's pathetic," she said.
"I know," Amy replied, lowering her head as she feigned shame.
"Oh, but this is nice."
When Rouge picked up one of Metal's wreaths, Amy quickly stretched her arms out, leaning hard into Metal's back, fumbling her hands along the table to retrieve his gloves. He did nothing to help her, but she had no time to argue with him about it. She quickly recovered them both and pulled them onto his hands, inhaling sharply when she a tearing sound. Peering over his shoulder, she saw that the tip of the middle finger of his left hand had burst out of the glove. She moved her attention to his face, hoping to indicate the problem to him, but she found his red eyes shining bright and fixed onto Rouge.
"This is some nice work, Amy," Rouge commented as Amy looked back at her. "You'll have to start charging more if this is your new standard."
Amy turned around to face her, picking up the wreath she had made herself.
"You don't prefer this one?" she asked. "This one looks more like it was handmade, don't you think?"
"Oh Amy, your work has always had a sort of... "Rustic" look about it," Rouge said, giving an almost pitying look at the wreath Amy had made. "This looks professional. This looks like something even I would actually pay for."
"Gee, thanks, Rouge," Amy groaned, placing down her own wreath as Rouge continued to admire Metal's handiwork.
She looked back at Metal, who had turned around, and looked like he was contemplating launching an attack at Rouge.
"Why don't you go inside and... Eat something," she told him.
The glow faded from his eyes and he finally turned his attention to Amy.
"Yeah, I thought you'd like that idea..." she grumbled. "Go on, on you go."
Metal diligently left, but, as he passed Rouge, she turned to watch him go, leaning back to watch out the door, watching him until he had walked the length of the garden and reentered the house out of sight. She then turned her attention back to Amy.
"He seems very comfortable here," Rouge commented.
"M-hmm," Amy muttered awkwardly.
"Did he stay over last night?" Rouge asked, smiling slyly.
Amy froze.
"I see," Rouge said, nodding her head.
Then, slowly, Rouge's smile faded.
"Oh Amy..." she said in that pitying voice again.
"What?" Amy yelped.
"Is he living here with you?" Rouge asked.
"Well, he's, kind of, just like... Temporarily staying here, yes," Amy admitted.
"Oh Amy..."
"Stop saying that!"
"When did you meet him?"
"Um... Like when did I first meet him or...?"
"Oh, Amy..."
"Did you come here for a reason, or are you just here to judge me?"
Rouge paused for a long moment, but Amy held her stance, glaring at her friend and brandishing a defiant fist.
"I might have some business to throw your way," the bat eventually answered. "And I'm glad I came to see you first. This is good."
Rouge held up one of the wreaths Metal had made again.
"Could you make up a few other things to this standard by eleven tomorrow?" she asked.
"Eleven?" Amy repeated. "Like, eleven in the morning?"
"Amy, I don't exclusively meet with my clients at night," Rouge tartly replied.
"That doesn't give me a lot of time, Rouge!" Amy pointed out.
"Do what you can," Rouge said, placing the wreath down on the crafting table. "Meet me tomorrow morning at eleven with what you have."
"This is actually an order I'm working on, you can't give it away."
"I don't need things to give away – Amy, please, I never give anything away – I just need some "show and tell" items."
"Oh, well, in that case, I could probably finish up a wreath and maybe a garland or small centrepiece..."
"I'll leave it in your capable hands. Just try to stay focused, okay?"
Amy's face dropped as Rouge stepped out of the shed and began moving down the garden.
"What do you mean "stay focused"?" Amy called out after her.
"I mean try not to let your new boy-toy distract you," Rouge called back over her shoulder.
"He's not my "boy-toy"!" Amy yelled, silently glad that Rouge kept walking away and as such was unable to see how red her face was turning.
"Eleven tomorrow, remember," Rouge called out before disappearing through the garden gate.
Amy sighed, wiping her hands at her face to try to take the heat out of it as she started down the garden towards her back door: the only way she could possibly manage to complete sample projects in such a short timescale would be with a manufacturing machine.
"Metal?" she called sweetly into the house as she stepped inside. "Did you get something to eat?"
She received no answer, though she reasoned that she ought not to have expected one, given that Metal had no voice to answer her with. She continued into the kitchen, unsurprised to find him there, but more than a little surprised to find him sitting neatly at the breakfast bar with a steaming mug of tea in front of him. He picked up a second mug between his slender fingertips and placed it down in front of the second stool, and Amy found herself tilting her head the same way he did when he didn't understand something.
"You made tea?" she asked, moving over to the stool.
She sniffed tentatively at the air, but, as her eyes roved over her kitchen counter, she could see a mess of tea leaves, a soggy, still full tea strainer, a pool of honey and a clumsily discarded, hollowed out lemon.
"Well, it's the thought that counts," she said with a sigh, sitting down and picking up the mug.
She took a sip and couldn't contain her surprise.
"This is actually really good!" she said, turning to Metal. "Where did you learn how to make tea like this?"
He stared blankly back at her for a moment, before lifting his own mug in one hand, taking a drink from it, his eyes never leaving hers.
"Eggman likes tea?" she tried.
He gave a single nod of his head as he lowered his mug back to the bar surface.
"Well, tea is a very civil thing, and making it and sharing it with friends is a very polite thing to do," she said, nodding her head. "It's nice to see you're actually making some progress, behaving like a civilised member of society instead of, you know, a beast."
Amy lifted up her mug but stopped before taking a drink as she watched Metal plunge his hand furthest from her into an opened can. When he withdrew it, he had rings of pickled jalapenos on each of his fingers, which he duly lifted to his mouth, pulling each one from his fingers with his teeth. Obviously he was peeling back his lips to save himself from cutting them on his razor-like fingers, but the whole image really did make him look quite beastly.
"I take it back," Amy groaned.
As she took another drink from her mug, she regretted her words somewhat: the tea really was good.
"So, do you think you could help me make some more of my projects today?" she asked casually.
She turned to Metal again, her eyes thinning as she watched him bite more pieces of jalapeno from his fingers.
"After you wash your hands, I mean," she added, before drinking some more of her tea.
He continued eating the peppers and drinking his tea and Amy left him to it, finishing her own drink and then dutifully cleaning up the mess he had left in the kitchen. As she neared the end of her task, he joined her, placing down a bottle of detergent and a scrubbing brush.
"It's a little late for that, Mister," she told him flatly. "I've already done all the hard work."
He held his hands out over the sink, lethal fingers pointed downwards, and turned his head to her expectantly.
"What?" she asked.
He sighed quietly and picked up the detergent and brush, passing both to Amy, who accepted them in her confusion, watching as he then held his hands out over the sink again.
"You seriously want me to wash your hands for you?" she snapped as she realised his meaning.
He gave a single, expressionless, nod of his head.
"I'm not your slave, Metal!" she raged. "You wash yourself in the shower, I'm pretty sure you can wash your own hands! You just..."
Amy's voice trailed off as she considered the shape of his hands and the brush she was holding.
"Huh..." she grunted in resignation. "I guess it's probably easier if I do it for you."
She poured some detergent onto the brush and then rinsed it under the tap before taking one of his hands and scrubbing at it.
"So..." she said wryly as she worked. "Did Eggman do this for you when you lived with him? Or did he just put you through a car wash whenever you got too dirty?"
Metal gave a strange, almost condescending look.
"You look a little too smug for someone who needs help to wash his own hands," Amy growled at him.
She scrubbed harder and rinsed his hands off with steaming hot water, only realising when she finished that neither would have affected him as his hands were made of metal and apparently had no pain or heat sensors in them. He shook his hands over the sink and Amy put the detergent away and stood the brush into the little brush-holder by the sink before turning around to take her leave. She made it one step away before she felt the hem of her dress catch on something behind her. She halted and looked back over her shoulder, mostly expecting to see that her dress had become caught in a drawer or cupboard: when she saw that Metal was unashamedly drying his hands on her dress she snarled and snatched her dress from him, rounding on him, her face reddening with rage and humiliation.
"Don't do that!" she shouted at him.
He shrugged at her.
"You don't understand why that's wrong?" she yelped.
He gave a single shake of his head.
"First of all, it's rude," she replied. "And secondly, you're not allowed to grab a hold of a girl's skirt like that, and thirdly, how would you like it if I dried my hands on you?"
Amy started to moved her hands to wipe them on his chest to demonstrate her point, but she stopped just short of her goal as she realised exactly what she was doing.
"Forget it," she muttered, slumping in defeat. "Let's go, we've got a lot of work to do."
She led him back out to her shed, where they spent the next several hours working away. Metal needed little instruction to complete a new task, and most often he could look at a completed item and figure out how to make it himself. His handiwork was ridiculously faster and neater than Amy's, to the point that she left the bulk of the manufacturing effort to him, leaving her just to weave flowers and ribbons, which were her favourite tasks anyway. He was so fast, he eventually finished everything she had asked before she had even finished garnishing the last item – a larger than she had expected garland – and she shortly found him hovering at her shoulder.
"Thanks for all your help today," she said as she worked. "I couldn't have done half of this without you."
He picked up a thistle and passed it to her as she made to reach for another flower.
"Oh, no, not that one," she said, shaking her head. "Garlands have to be hung or draped, it's better not to use prickly flowers in them."
He remained in place as though she had not refused him.
"Like this one, see?" she tried, picking up a carnation. "This is one of favourite flowers. It's so pretty, it smells nice, and it's so soft, see?"
She twirled the flower around in her hand and Metal reached for it, carefully plucking it from her hand between his thumb and forefinger. He held up the carnation and the thistle and studied both, before eventually meeting her eyes with a blank look. She smiled patiently and removed one of her gloves to help demonstrate her point.
"This one is soft, see?" she said, stroking her fingers across the carnation. "And this one is prickly."
She tapped her fingers against the thistle, and, although he watched her movements very carefully, he still appeared to either not understand, not care, or not really be listening. She sighed at the idea that he probably either didn't care or wasn't actually listening, but, just then, she remembered a story Vanilla had told her one day.
"Oh, wait!" she said, brightening with a smile. "You can't appreciate the difference because you can't feel it with your hands – but you don't need hands to feel it!"
Amy took each of the flowers from him and placed them down onto the table.
"My friend's mother works with disabled children, and she once told me that she teaches them about the world around them using a slightly different method," she explained. "You don't need to rely on your hands to tell you how something feels, you can use your lips! They are sensitive to texture too!"
She picked up the thistle and moved it towards Metal's face. At first he leaned away a little, before opening his mouth.
"It's not for you to eat!" she snapped. "Oh my goodness, you really do just have a one-track mind! Close your mouth and hold still!"
He gave her a harsh look, but did as she asked, before crossing his eyes to focus on the object in front of him.
"Feel that?" Amy asked, gently touching the thistle to his lips.
He flinched away from her.
"Prickly, right?" she said. "Not so nice to touch. It looks pretty, but it doesn't feel nice. Now try this one."
She placed the thistle down and picked up the carnation, touching it to his lips. He held his place and she smiled.
"That feels nice, right?" she asked.
He carefully took the flower from her hand, and picked up the thistle, touching each to his mouth, one at a time. After repeating this a few times, he gave a single, satisfied nod of his head and replaced the flowers to the table. Amy started to tell him this would be a useful way for him to identify temperature too, but stopped short when his metallic fingers of both hands took a hold of her arm just below her wrist, holding onto her just firmly enough that his fingers would do no harm to her, before lifting her arm up.
"What are you...?" she muttered in confusion.
Her voice trailed off as he touched his lips to her fingertips. She was too shocked initially to tell him what he was doing was not exactly socially acceptable, and, as she recovered from her initial surprise, she noticed he had purposefully chosen the hand she had removed her glove from, and, as she watched, he opened out one hand from her arm, and touched his own fingers to his lips.
"Uh, yeah, my hands are quite different from yours," she said awkwardly.
He alternated between their hands a few more times before finally releasing her. She quickly put her glove back on, but when she turned back to Metal, she found him staring at his hands, which he was holding, palm up, in front of his face.
"Hey, your hands are pretty useful like that, it's not so bad," she pointed out. "Your hands are the reason I got all my work done today."
When he continued to stare at his hands, she sighed, retrieving his leather gloves and pulling them over his hands to hide them from his sight. His middle finger poked out of the hole that had formed earlier, but a second hole appeared at one of his thumbs.
"I think I understand why you were wearing mittens over your gloves when I found you in the street," she commented.
She turned and attached the carnation to her garland, adding in a few more flowers before turning to Metal with a smile. His hands were at his sides, and his eyes were on her, his expression as blank as ever.
"Let's go inside, it's getting late," she told him.
She took a step forwards, but he didn't move, and the way he was standing, he was blocking her exit from the shed.
"Metal?" she asked, looking up at him expectantly.
He blinked, purposefully, once, before leaning towards her.
"What are you doing?" she wailed, putting her hands on his shoulders and bending back away from him.
He frowned a little and she quickly shook her head.
"No, you can't do that!" she quickly told him. "You can't use your lips to feel parts of... People's... Bodies!"
He straightened up again and tilted his head.
"You can use your lips to check the texture or temperature of an object, but you can't do that with a person!" she said sternly.
He pointed at her hand he had been touching to his mouth and she shook her head again.
"Yes, you did it with my hand, but you shouldn't really even had done that!"
He frowned.
"It's not..." she began, releasing his shoulders to wind her hands in the air as she searched for the words to explain herself. "It's different, okay? Touching someone with your lips is a different thing! It's called... It's called kissing, and it's something you can only do with someone you love. Do you understand?"
A strange look passed over Metal's face and a flicker of light glowed dimly in his artificial irises, and, for a moment, Amy found herself rooted to the spot. Since meeting Metal in his new form, she had only twice looked at him and seen a strong resemblance to his old, robotic, self: the first time had been in Tails's house, when he had been powering himself up, readying himself to fight Sonic. But now she saw it again. She had seen this look on his face once before. It was the same look he had given her back on Little Planet.
Amy had been in a cage, in a dull, windowless room, illuminated only by the four monitors Eggman was sitting in front of, watching Sonic navigating through the maze of robots infesting the small world. Amy was on her knees at the bars, facing a shadow knelt before her. With the glare of the monitors behind him, she could barely make out Metal Sonic's features, but he had copied her position, kneeling on the ground on the other side of the bars. They had been that way for some time, she had been talking to him about something, something she had thought was significant, but she now found herself struggling to remember the finer details of.
She could, however, remember one particular thing she had said to him.
"I pity you. That mean old man didn't include love in your programming. You'll never understand what it means to love somebody or to be loved."
Through the darkness, two red oval rings glowed dimly, casting just enough light for her to see the highly polished, metallic blue and pewter face before her.
It was the same look.
Amy blinked as her mind came back to the present, as her eyes looked at the same face from all those years ago – the same but not the same.
"I guess that's something you still don't understand," she said sadly. "Maybe you never will."
Amy sighed and decided that, the next day, after she had met with Rouge, she would dedicate the spare time she had gained employing Metal's help to finish her work to try to teach him a little more about what it really meant to be a living, organic hedgehog and not a pre-programmed, metallic one.
"Let's go inside, Metal," she said.
He gave a single nod of his head – although it was a smaller, slightly smoother nod than usual – and turned around to lead the way back inside.
Next Chapter: Amy meets Rouge and Rouge tries to offer Amy some friendly advice, but Amy is not really receptive to it. The situation turns fraught when Shadow arrives to meet Rouge and Metal arrives to meet Amy, and the two make hedgehogs are less than pleased to see each other. Afterwards, Amy and Metal have an awkward encounter with Vanilla, and Tails is concerned that Amy isn't trying hard enough to keep Metal hidden. Chapter 7: Thistle