Disclaimers; I don't own Sonic, he belongs to Sega, and I'd imagine I should not be writing this… But… *Shrugs*
Orin; *Waves* "Hi to everyone reading this - and thanks for taking the time out to. ^__^ Makes writing it worthwhile."
Sonic; *Looking skeptical* "That remains to be seen…"
Orin; "Oh, hush you!"
Knuckles; "Is she sucking up to the readers again?"
Orin; "Hey!"
Sonic; *Nodding* "Yup."
Knuckles; "I'll never understand why they do that…"
Sonic; I know. I mean, you're either gonna read it - or not." *Frowning* "Hopefully not, in this case…"
Orin; "Again - Hey!"
Knuckles; "I dunno… Things start to pick up in this chapter."
Orin; "Hmph. You're just happy because-"
Sonic; *Clamps a hand over Orin's mouth* "Shh! Can we say ' Spoiler'?"
Orin; *Removing Sonic's hand, somewhat chagrined* "Oops…"
Knuckles; *Rolling his eyes* "Humans…"
Orin; *Sigh* "Anyway. Thank you *Glares at Sonic and Knuckles* ALL for taking the time out to read this fic, and for those who have sent me encouragement, both through E-mail and through reviews…
It helps remind me why I'm writing this. For me - yes… But then I could just keep it to myself… Someone out there must want to read it as well. And I for one, am glad you do.
Thanks.
Sonic; ¬___¬ "Are you done now…?"
Orin; *Glare*
A special thank you to some other wonderful writers of Sonic fiction - and not. When I have the time to catch up on these guys' work… They'll be the first for me to look up…
Thalia Rockchick - STC writer, one of the few, she's amazing her ideas remain true to the comic, the girl has excellent taste - I mean a Shadow and a Super Sonic fan? - Not to mention the fact that she's an amazing artist as well…
Latifah 27 - a girl whose encouragement is boundless, who's this amazing friend that's kept me going when I've wanted to give up, and who's even done an AU of one of my fics… Go. Now. Read.
Sean Catlett - I'm always rendered speechless upon reading his work. There's no apt description to do this guy justice. You just have to read yourself. Trust me on this…
Anthony Bault - A truly original writer, one of those guys who's works always make me kick myself after and ask ' Now why didn't I think of that?' ^_^ Talented guy this, and loads of amazing ideas in the making…
Stephen Zacharus - An amazing dark-fic writer (At least I think so) Putting characters in situations to take them to a whole new level… Frightens me frequently… (That's a good thing)
WINTERHEART- Every Scar Is A Lesson Remembered.
Chapter 4.
Vertigo.
*****
It's not like you to say sorry,
I was waiting on a different story,
This time I'm mistaken,
For handing you a heart worth breaking…
- Nickleback , How You Remind Me.
*****
"Yes."
Amy's consent was all Sonic needed to hear.
The robots opened fire as the hedgehog darted to her, grabbing her hand, sweeping her feet from under her, taking her into his arms - then crashing through the window next to the balcony.
For Amy, time, and her heart seemed to have halted as the cobalt hedgehog swung her into his arms. Where once it would have done so because it was Sonic, and it was Sonic that was holding her so tightly, looking so much like the hero that everyone said he was - to Amy, at that instant, time halted only because she was so afraid.
Terrified…
The sound of shattering glass that echoed in her ears; the feeling of the haphazard shards against her skin - though there was no blood drawn - and then the blast of cool night air hitting her face, causing her to blink back the tears it brought with it. And lastly, the sensation of sickening weightlessness as her world tilted and spun in every conceivable direction.
Time started and Amy realized then that they were no longer in her apartment, and that the blinking lights of her city were sprawled out far, far below them.
And they were falling.
Her mouth opened, and Amy tried to scream her terror to Sonic - to the night air - to anyone who could hear her horror. But she could not. It rose up in her throat but she could not voice it. It would not come. Instead it remained nestled in her chest, next to her fluttering heartbeat. Amy was too afraid to let it go. Maybe in screaming, the whole implausibility of the situation would become real, and then she really would be falling from a skyscraper building, the air stealing breath from her lungs, with only the sight of the dizzying lights far below to bring her any reality of what was happening. And that it was happening.
Sonic's feet came into contact with the side of the building the moment Amy realized they were falling.
Clutching her tighter to him, he narrowed his eyes, partly against the wind that threatened to blind him, and partly in determination. The resolution to survive was undeniable in the emerald depths; to keep his grip on the hedgehog in his arms; the resolution that had kept Sonic alive for nineteen years; and that would save them both against all odds.
Reckless? It could be called that. Life-saving, most certainly.
His feet darted across the mortar, not seeking purchase but looking for control. To try and slow down would be to kill them both, Sonic knew this on instinct, just as he knew how to run with his fall. And besides, it was not his first time for darting down the side of a two-hundred story building. It would not be the last.
His speed had to be maintained, and more importantly, Sonic had to be the one in control of it. The instant he lost that, it would become nothing more than a running free-fall. He would not be able to touch down. They would be crushed on impact.
He had to work with gravity, not against it.
The hedgehog leapt lightly over a window ledge, wider than most, felt Amy's heart jump against her chest, then his feet came in contact with the edifice once more.
Control.
His lips parted to a triumphant grin. He even risked a glance at his passenger.
Amy's eyes were sealed shut, and a part of Sonic wanted to shout to her to open them, and that she was missing the ride of her life. But then the memory of the hate he had seen rose again, and so Sonic only tightened his grip. His grin faded. Instead he concentrated on keeping him and Amy alive. In control he may have been, but the danger was not over yet.
Amy forced her eyes to open a stint, darting a terrified glance at her unwanted savior. Moonlight and lamplight gleamed across Sonic's smooth spines. Despite the danger, and the whole absurdity of it, Amy noted he looked older to her than when she had last seen him. Time, or…. Something else, had added something indefinable to his face. His eyes were still green, pupils dilated, perhaps in excitement.
Only Sonic could find running to ones imminent death exciting…
Because he were doing just that. Running.
Amy blinked, glancing down. Feet, a blur, but there was definitely contact there…
How had he managed that?
She frowned, looked back up. They had been falling, she had felt it, she had felt it before and Amy knew that floating sensation. And he had not let her go. He had been falling… just like her. Sonic had not let her go. His hold on her was strong, confident, and it was secure. He was not afraid.
And he had not let go.
Amy could not deny the feeling that caused to grow in her. She did not know how he had done it, or how he would keep them safe with the ground rushing up to greet them, but even at those thoughts, the strange feeling of safety did not dispel.
So the pale hedgehog closed her eyes and tried to trust Sonic to get them down. She owed him that, if nothing else.
Moments later, Amy felt the world tilt once more, and on instinct she clutched Sonic tighter. Then, the breeze died down, and the sensation of super-speed ceased. She opened her eyes cautiously. Sonic's gaze was still ahead, and she followed it.
Her home… It was gone.
The fire was out, and how the fire-fighting bots had managed that, Amy did not know. But it had not been enough to save the topmost floors - and her apartment with them. A gaping, empty hole settled inside her at that. Everything she had. Everything she had worked for, and all those memories… Just ashes on the wind.
But she was alive. At it counted for something.
She had been saved. Again.
She should not resent that; she was alive, and it was all that mattered when all was said and done - but she resented Sonic anyway. Her hard won independence had just been made a mockery of, whether Sonic was aware of that or not. He had saved her, as he had always been forced to do in the past, because, as usual, Amy could not save herself-
Then, Amy had to blink once more.
She looked down.
Solid ground. Flat, horizontal, you-can-stand-up-on, solid ground…
Another blink.
How Sonic had reached the terra-firma without harm, she did not know. His touchdown onto the pavement had been as light as a feather, the only indication was the strange tilting sensation she had felt, and that was it. He had known exactly what he had been doing.
The resentment surged within her again, and with a shove, Amy pushed herself out of Sonic's arms. Green eyes locked with her own at that, as Amy tired to steady herself without reaching for Sonic's aid. Her legs felt positively weak… Amy stumbled - and felt Sonic catch her again.
Her heart was still racing, and the steady pulse of Sonic's own heart was a disconcerting discord against it. How calm he was… despite everything that had just happened. How warm…
"Let go of me," she muttered. But she did not glare at him. She did not even look at him.
"I will," his reply was low, soft, dangerous. "As soon as you learn to stand again."
Still brazen. And now that the danger had passed, his voice was bordering on that familiar scornful tone she knew so well. She gave an ineffectual push against him, knowing it was too weak, and not surprised when Sonic did not move.
Silence after that, save for Amy's harsh breaths. She did not push him again and Sonic let out a startled gasp when she sagged against him instead.
The hedgehog reached down with a hand in panic, checking her heartbeat, and then tilting her face towards his own. Heart; steady, if a little fast; breathing still rapid, but slowing.
Shock, he decided. She was unhurt. She had…
Fainted…
With a wry twist to his mouth, Sonic lifted her limp form again. She was just as light in his arms as she had always been. She had hardly grown taller at all, he realized. Perhaps Amy would always be petite. It suited her anyhow..
He shook his head.
What next…
The hospital would be his best bet. Tails probably headed that way, and Amy's friend was undoubtedly there was well…
"Robotnik sent hose robots, you know that."
"I know," Sonic nodded. Then he started.
"Wha-"
He whirled about, and then turned again when his eyes only met with a empty street. Mild alarm caused his breath to quicken as he held Amy closer to him, his eyes searching frantically the shadows and night.
How familiar.
Then Sonic relaxed suddenly. Why did all the voices in his head nagging him always sound like people he knew? The critical voice for Sally, the cheerful grin for Tails, the firm reminder for…
No.
He took a deep breath.
His imagination and adrenaline were still on overdrive. His heart was racing, faster than it had been when there had been nothing before him but uncertainty and the hard ground, far below - So much so that even his thoughts sounded suddenly loud to him…
"Okay," he muttered, "Get a grip, Sonic. There are no voices in the night here…"
He shook his head again. His next comment was filled with self-derision.
"And I have got to stop talking to myself…"
But Robotnik had sent those robots. They had been there with the intent of taking or harming Amy. He gazed absently at the unconscious hedgehog still cradled in his arms. She twisted, frowning, dreaming.
He could not leave her at a hospital. She was still in danger. As long as Robotnik was out there, and after her, she would be so. Leaving her in a ward full of injured or sick people made the situation only worse, as well as the fact that Sonic could not keep an eye on her, there were patients, some immobile, and all in danger if more robots were sent for Amy.
He could not take her there.
Sonic sighed quietly to himself and began to walk.
That left his apartment, and Amy would not like it. Still, it was the best place for her, and he would be there, and he could keep her safe. Amy made a soft noise of disapproval in his arms, as though hearing his thoughts. Sonic eyed her expression carefully. It was… tormented. Her entire frame was tight, tense.
She was dreaming.
He could not wake her, and it was easier on him if she slept anyway.
The hedgehog broke into a light smooth run, disappearing in a few seconds, heading for home.
Which was why Sonic never saw the scarlet form dislodge himself from the second story of a nearby building and drop effortlessly to the ground, then walk casually, eyeing the smoking remains of Amy's apartment high above him.
His eyes narrowed, calculating and thoughtful as they moved down the entirety of the high-rise apartments. Deep, violet eyes. He studied the area for a few minutes more. Still contemplative.
He turned then, reflection complete, facing the same direction that the hedgehog had disappeared to minutes before. The dim streetlights made the crescent mark on his neck appear a golden yellow instead of its usual pristine white.
"Good move, hedgehog," he murmured. There was quiet admiration in his voice. "On both accounts."
A slip of moonlight caught his face, revealing the faded scar ran down the right side. To anyone who had seen Sonic earlier, this one would seem to be a mirror image. Brows drew together, more in surprise than any displeasure. Another cool breeze rose in the street, bringing with it the scent of smoke and ash, catching the echidna's long headspines, tossing them about his face. But he paid no attention, still intent on the vanished hedgehog.
Sonic would have figured out what to do either way. He had not needed prompting…
But Knuckles had prompted anyway. Sonic was his friend. Sonic believed he was not dead…
Sonic could help him.
The former Guardian lifted his head and breathed deeply of the night air, once. The smell of distant water and salt was still overshadowed by the sharp sting of smoke. He could not hear the crackle of distant flames, they too were gone. If he concentrated hard, he could almost imagine their heat…
Then his eyes shot open again, and Knuckles' gaze was drawn skyward. There was an air of patience about him that could not be missed.
An involuntary frown crossed his face as he searched the heavens.
"There's a storm coming…"
And with that, Knuckles turned, vanishing into the night once more.
*****
Elsewhere Amy dreamed…
*****
Sometimes she wondered if she had really changed at all. Time had passed to be sure. Not all that much. In the grand scheme of things not even an instant. But in a lifetime… As a part of her lifetime.
Everything around her changed after Chaos; the only constant had been Sonic, her hero. Once. But that had been before Chaos, before the drowning, or the tidal wave.
She would look to herself, and sometimes Amy felt just the same.
No.
She took that back.
She had watched the stars as a child, alone, or sometimes with her father, and they had always been a constant. Or so they seemed. But Amy had been a child then, knowing nothing of the speed of light or sound, or time and how it worked.
How was she to know that so many of those stars she had wished upon had not died before her birth?
There was no way of knowing.
Just as there had been no way to know if she was to die in her apartment, in the flames, or by the bullet and laser fire of Robotniks robots. As she had no way of knowing that her would-be savior was on his way with her life in mind…
"I can't be your savior. I can't!"
Grief. And fury that lent an edge to her tone, but mostly grief. Because she was tired, because she had once believed his heart was only for her, and because a part of her had never really been surprised at all.
"I need you."
Breaking the not-silence already flooded with broken things. She could see him, scar and all, eyes caught, emerald and strong, childish and selfish still, and sad. So sad…
Her hero.
"I know," her own voice. Her own eyes starting to sting with more than the rain sluicing and splatting gently against the windowpane, against her upturned face, "I know."
Rain was common enough in Station Square, despite being so close to the sea. Water still overpowered sun there. But in winter the colors of the day would always be grey, and Amy would step through them as if to avoid letting them cling to and soften the sharp black of her coat. She would walk and go nowhere in particular.
She would think occasionally of the rain, but rarely let it touch her…
All water was related she knew. The water in the flesh and bones of your fingers would welcome the water of rainfall when you reach your hand out to it. It remembered…
"I don't remember my parents."
"You're lucky."
A sharp look, violet eyes darkened with concealed pain at the remark.
Soft, but still steely, "Really? How so? Tell me how it is I'm the fortunate one here? The one who'll never understand what it's like to know his parents…?"
A wince, scar twisting slightly, but no longer stinging. Not any more. Contrite. Apologetic. But still forceful, always headstrong, always willing to make his stand.
"I meant… I - Sometimes… It's easier not to remember."
The air cleared with that, the tension began to seep away with his explanation. Shared pain. It was shared, and it was eased.
"I would prefer to have the memory."
Emerald and amethyst met, understanding passed, argument recognized. Allowed. Needed. Friend and friend. Hedgehog and echidna.
"I'd rather forget."
He had forgotten much, and Amy did not blame him. He was… a hero. A hero whose lips she dreamed to dream of. Once. Or still.
She hated to admit the emptiness she still felt at times, even to herself. She had always imagined she would grow accustomed to it in time. She had gone years without seeing him, and the burning had never lessened. She would see someone, even vaguely similar to him, and her heart would leap before she would realize it could not be him. Too short, not the same shade of blue, eyes brown, not green, and a thousand other differences.
Obsession is not a pretty thing…
If she could call it that. But she did not love him, not anymore. Maybe she had never loved him. He had called it a childish crush, and perhaps he had been right.
But there he stood - her obsession. In her apartment, amid chaos and broken glass and shattered dreams. Standing there, eyes alight with… What?
Joy?
Hate?
Need?
And for what? Peace? His eyes would never light up like that had be been a peace broker, an ambassador for repose. She could never imagine him sitting for hours on end, debating quietly, logically, when his heart, and his spirit only wanted to run…
And that left only battle. All that remained then was the fury of the fight, and the thrill of the chase and the hunt. The tempo and dance of fist against steel - or flesh, and the racing rush that came with it. All that remained then was death.
What did that make him?
What was her hero then?
"I'm not a hero. I was never a hero. You know that."
The wind tossed her hair about her face, blinking sapphire eyes as she looked at his green ones.
"You saved them. You saved all of them. That's not heroic?"
That critical voice soft, a reminder, pushing gently, trying to avoid more pain. Impossible.
"That's life. I can run, run fast. It's what I do. If someone else could, then they'd be doing this too."
And the shrug, as though it was nothing. It was out of place, not in sync with who he was- had been once.
"You risk your life."
More derision. More familiar.
"You risk your life every time you cross the road, Sal. What's the difference?"
Ah. Firmer then, perhaps pushing just a little.
"The difference is you. That you don't have to. But you do."
And finally the crux. In the end it all came to that…
"I can't save you though… So it doesn't matter, does it?"
But it did not matter. And that was the folly of obsession - love. Someday Amy would learn. Someday she would understand and know. Sometimes, still, she would wonder, would there ever be a time when something did not go wrong? It was useless; those dreams of him, smiles she had never seen and words she had never heard….
She could not shut herself off, like the machines Sonic so hated… She could not learn to be alone as Knuckles had spent his life. She would always have to try again, as Sally felt the burden of duty that weighed on her - never giving up. Never having the allowance to…
She was caught in the blood-red pit she had thrown herself into when she fell for him… It was all wrong. Did she dig herself out? Her fingers could crack and ooze from where she would carve wordless screams into immaterial walls with her nails. The extent of her movement: baseless flings, self-destructive only, no pattern, no plot, despite her rage at the futility of it all, escape being not an option… She would not have the strength.
"You've gotten stronger."
It was a comment brought forth, not from any admiration of the fact, just because of the fact. Nothing more. There was no emotion in the words. No feeling.
"I have, and you know it. So, tell me Sonic… How am I being greeted here? Is my welcome that of an acquaintance? A comrade-in-arms?"
A very slight pause, old wounds reopening under the shadow of the past.
"Long-lost friend?"
Another, longer pause, and with it, the ghost of a grin.
"If so, should I expect poison in my meal? A knife from the shadows… in my back?"
And the indignation rose, in a face that looked more youthful than was possible for it's years, and in eyes that were older than they ever should be.
"I'm not the back-stabber here, 'Miles'. Or have you forgotten so soon?"
Silence. Bitterness swelled, abated, leaving only regret, and so much pain. A chasm of pain, with no way to bridge the growing gap.
"How could I, when you remind me?"
Even, but with hurt, and pain again. And always regret. For someone he would never know as he had right to know. Who hated him more than the once tyrant of Robotropolis.
"There is no poison. No knife. Sit down."
Another smirk and it looked so much like one known, the one famous, the one that had green eyes to go with it and long curving cobalt spines and a famous attitude that was world renowned. But it was not. It was someone else.
"Ah. Then I am not the long lost friend…"
More silence, and with sudden weariness, an answer.
"No. Just a child. Always the child."
Just a child really. That was what they said in the hospital she worked in… She once thought herself wise, but she really had been a child then. She was still too honest though. She knew that. Amy always wondered of she was missing something important. If it was too late.
She was only sixteen after all - soon to be seventeen, must remind - and sometimes she would feel as thought time was running out. Born too late, too soon? Her youth was draining, she could feel it seep away.
And she was still a child. Must not forget. She heard it constantly; when Amy was unwise enough to reveal her age, even as she was pushed into adulthood and responsibility. Too old to be left alone, too young to be treated fairly. And they would sigh, long suffering sighs.
Poor dear, they would say.
She once wished to be a dancer, but her dancers feet had only been used on missions, or for running, escaping capture. Then she had wanted to sing for a long time, but no one would listen to her even when she spoke. What were the chances of them ever hearing her songs? And then, at last she had wanted to become a famous actress for a little while, reaching to the stars, being one of them, having a chance at something she never had.
But Amy knew too that was what her life had become. A place for yearning. That was the word she used privately. Yearning. It sounded so melodramatic to her. Yearning…
Because it was what she had spent her life doing, when she thought about it…
Yearning…
And dreaming…
Oh…She knew this dream…
"Dreams can be important, you used to say."
Bitterness upon bitterness and pain, until there was no deciphering which was old and which was new.
"No."
"No...? They're not?"
A surprised tone, soft and without mockery. What she would have given to hear that once….
"No. No. Not the pain."
Said like stone, in a monotony of unfeeling. And the laugh that came after, not from her, but from him, colored the silence with a bright acerbity.
"That depends on your point-of-view… Sometimes. Sometimes, it's the only thing telling you that you're alive…"
Silence. Wondering. Needing to know, not wanting to… Noting the scar and the green eyes, always bright. But not always with laughter.
"What is?"
And it was there, all around them. Both of them. In the past. Present. It would always be there, even in their future. Together, apart…
"The pain."
She felt it then, burning, ripping through her as she had felt it tear through Knuckles, and her father, and she knew it was not over, it would not be over for a long, long time…
Sonic had not worn black to Knuckles' funeral - he had not gone. He never had anything to mourn. Ever. Whatever pain might have inspired him was still there, and perhaps he blamed, but he did not mourn.
He would never change.
She would never change.
It had been snowing outside earlier on in the week. It never snowed there, but it had been, and the sky and the ground had been the same shade of white, just like Sonic's nightmares. The whole world had gone silent….
Amy preferred the rain. She had wished it was raining then. Wished for blood-warm rainwater and blood-soft kisses under waning streetlights in crumbling rain-slick streets. She had wished for passion once. For warmth. Anything to stop being cold, in the winter of her heart. She wanted to melt. She wanted to know what it was to touch fire, as Knuckles had, when it had not killed him…
She needed to know. Anything…
Anything to feel. She needed to feel something, anything, even if it was the pain of her nightmares.
Some called her cold. Perhaps she was.
He had been cold to her. Sonic. She had wished she could be cold like him. Fire destroys; ice preserves. As much as she wanted the fire - she did not want to go up in flames. She wanted to be safe. She wanted to stop falling.
Amy could not remember the first time she had met Sonic the Hedgehog… But she knew she had stood on the edge of the world that day, and that first step - and she had fallen on that day.
And she had been falling ever since.
*****
Amy rolled from the bed with a cry of pain, chasing shadows of fading visions from her mind the only way she knew how - by replacing it with something more substantial. Something that could be felt.
Her gloves were gone. So, she dug her fingernails into her palms viciously. Felt the ache. Welcomed it.
It all depended on one's point of view…
She winced, pressed her hands to her head, fingernails still embedded in small palms.
No.
With effort, she lifted her head. Her eyes opened forcefully, as she made herself wake, see, look. The room was unfamiliar to her… Messy enough, with large windows overseeing the bay, and a guitar in the corner…
She knew that guitar.
Sonic.
Amy started to her feet.
It began to blur. Her skin burned and her hands shook when she pressed them to her face. Her fingers came away - fur damp, fingernails tinged-red.
She stared at them with an odd sort of detachment, aware on another level that her entire body had begun to tremble. Why was she crying? She was alive. She was awake. Her home was gone, and her possessions, but those were only material things. She was alive at least. And nothing could change what had happened, least of all weeping.
The door of her - his - room opened.
She knew it was him, and she wanted to tell him to go away. Instead, she said, "It won't stop. I don't know why, it just won't stop-"
Sonic stared at her a moment, and Amy thought she caught a flicker of fear cross his face. Sonic the Hedgehog, Freedom Fighter, Hero of the People, was afraid of something as harmless as a young hedgehogs tears?
It struck Amy as humorous then, and she laughed.
Only it came out as a strangled half-sob, and it was as if that one single hitch gave permission for more to come, until she was sobbing outright, and unable to stop.
Clutching her stomach, she tried to motion him away. He was witnessing her humiliation, and she doubted he would ever let her forget it. She had lost, proving yet again that she was nothing but a child, needing to be coddled and comforted at every given opportunity - under pressure. Funny, that she should break down so completely at that moment, when the flames and the robots were past, and when by rights there was nothing to fear.
"Damnit Amy," she heard him hiss. A curse - the second she had caused him to utter. Twice now to her memory. How her hero had changed…
"Go away," she ordered him, the words coming out so strangled she could hardly understand them herself.
Sonic had never felt so helpless in his entire life. Amy had broken down so completely, a weeping mess, and he did not know the first thing about offering comfort. He usually avoided it like the plague. It was damned humbling to find he was more terrified of listening to her cry than he had been facing the flaming building. She had done so well, been so calm compared to how she used to be, that Sonic had been certain she could handle it.
It was obvious she couldn't. And a part of him wanted to tease her into stopping, like he used to. But Sonic couldn't say the words. Amy's eyes burned into his memory - hate and fear - and the syllables caught in his throat, unable to be voiced.
A slender arm reached out hesitantly, touching her shoulder. She jerked away, curling inward and huddling over, falling into a rocking motion that was both pitiful and wrenching to watch.
"Leave me alone!"
He barely understood her.
The meaning was clear enough, however, and he wanted nothing more than to obey them. It would not have bothered him in the past - would it? Had it been Sally, Sonic would have been able to walk away, knowing she was strong enough.
His eyes focused on the huddled form.
No.
No, he would not.
So, he took a breath and reached for Amy again, this time tightening his hold when she would have pulled away again.
It was not working. She could not pull herself back together, and Sonic's attempt at comfort was not helping. He was not supposed to care that she was hurting. He had never in the past. He was supposed to tell her how useless she was being, and what a crybaby, and then leave. It was apparent she was far from understanding him. But at that instant, Amy only wanted him to be gone.
But Sonic did not go. Instead, Amy found herself resting in the circle of his arms, pinned between his thighs, her cheek resting beneath his chin.
"Stop fighting me," he muttered tersely, and she felt the muscles in his thin arms tense where she gripped them.
It was stupid of him. She did not want him there, and he was being a fool by not listening. Someone smarter would have taken that and ran. Perhaps her former hero was not as bright as she had believed him to be then, because Sonic was only holding her tighter, as opposed to letting her go.
But it was still Sonic. She could not let him see her in such a state. But she could feel herself relaxing, turning into the heat of his body, the solid comfort he offered. He was there. She had not asked him to be; he had made his own choice. And Amy did not have to feel guilty for taking advantage of that. She did not…
Exhaustion overtook her in a single move. All the fight drained from her so that she lay limp against him. Unprepared for that, Sonic was almost driven off balance.
Now what?
The crying had given away to hiccups, and looking down at her, he could see her eyes were closed.
He sighed.
"I told you to go away," she murmured between hiccups.
He sighed again.
"I don't take orders from you, Amy."
No - Sonic would take orders from very few people.
"You're tired."
"I'm not a child, Sonic… I don't know why I cried."
Silence. Then, "I never called you a child, Amy."
He had. In the past. Perhaps he had forgotten. It was only one in a long line of things said to her that she was sure he had forgotten.
Almost petulant in her lassitude.
"You were thinking it."
It almost made him want to laugh. Out of all the things Sonic had been thinking, that was not one of them.
For Amy, it was a strange surprise to find she felt safe again, in his arms, comforted, and most of all, that she did not want him to leave. She kept waiting for Sonic to make a disparaging comment, or for herself to remember who she was now, where they were, and to push him away.
But neither happened. No rebuke was forthcoming; his arms did not leave her; they lowered her onto the bed, stirring panic. Panic that fled from her only when he settled her against him silently.
His green eyes were dark and unreadable when she lifted her own to meet them.
"Go to sleep. I don't want you to have one of those nightmares of yours and wake everyone up by screaming," he told her roughly.
"I can't," she countered, fighting the heaviness on her eyelids, the lethargy in her limbs. It was not a good idea to sleep with Sonic next to her. Only because he was Sonic, and she didn't trust him - not like she had once.
She didn't even like him.
Not really…
"Be quiet."
She sighed. "I don't like you very much at times, Sonic," she told him, echoing her thoughts sleepily.
She caught his faint smile at that. It assured her again, like she had been assured when she had first seen him, steeping amid the chaos of her apartment, sure as always, unchanged as ever. And when they had landed safely - and when he had caught her, despite her not wanting to be caught.
Then she started, for the first time noticing the faded scar on his face…
Oh. Of course.
She was tired, she found. And it could not hurt to sleep, for just a few hours.
Sonic watched her eyes slide shut, watched as Amy relaxed into sleep, a part of him wondering if it was only because he was beside her.
"Don't be an idiot," he muttered, brushing an errant strand of hair from her face. Her hate for him had been all too clear.
He could not help but note that she looked much like the girl she had once been, in her sleep. It was deceiving however, and Sonic would do better to remember that.
He pried her fists open, noting the crescent shaped cuts in her palms, reminding himself to take care of them in the morning. Then he settled himself down, hoping for a dreamless sleep…
*****
The shadows of the dimly lit room cloaked the large round figure of the doctor as he glared. His maroon mustache twitched as though with irritation when he talked.
"So, Amy escaped?"
The robot stepped forward, and it looked as contrite as any machine could - not at all.
"Yes, it was Sonic the Hedgehog sir."
The human only continued to glare.
"It's always Sonic the Hedgehog," he grated out, just as his fist slammed down onto the desk beside him with a thundering crash that echoed around the chamber for longer than it should have.
"Damn him!"
The robot remained untouched by this behavior. Perhaps it was accustomed to it, perhaps it was incapable of caring. It did not matter either way, its master's attention was once again focused elsewhere. The fat man stood, turning to one of the flickering monitors that always seemed to permeate his rooms somewhere or other, and he clasped his hands easily behind him, fingers tapping idly.
His rage was apparently gone.
"She is crucial to my plans, " he bit out, and the tremors of ire were still present, in his voice. "We must find her… The delay is not much, but it is enough…"
"We believe that the hedgehog took her to his place of residence, Sir," one of the - apparently braver - robots supplied.
The human whirled back to fact the assembly, laughing, his cape billowing out behind him.
"He did, did he?"
There was another gleeful chuckle.
"Well then, it's time we made a house call."
*****
To Be Continued…*****
Sonic; "That's it?"
Orin; "You don't think it was long enough…?"
Knuckles; "Yes he does… He's just hopeless at sarcasm."
Sonic; *Indignant* "Am not."
Knuckles; *Sarcastically* "Oh. Wait. My mistake. You're not."
Sonic; "Damn right I'm not, I - watiaminute…¬___¬ Shut up."
Orin; "Nice to see you happy, Knuckles."
Sonic; "Psch. 'Course he is… Finally got to make an appearance…"
Knuckles; *smiling brightly* "I'm baaack!" ^____^
Orin; ^___^ "Knuckles… How OCC of you…"
Knuckles; o___o "I can be happy…"
Sonic; "Yeah. Sure."
Orin; ^__^ "See, Sonic can do sarcasm!"
Sonic; "Hey…O___O I can! Who-hoo! ^__^ Go me!"
Knuckles; "I can be happy!"
Sonic; ¬__¬ "Red, you're missing the point here…"
Knuckles; *Still looking peeved* "Which is?"
Sonic; *Gleefully* "I can do sarcasm!"
Orin; *Sigh* "That's what I get for getting them started…"
Anyway… This chapter is far longer than intended, and I wouldn't blame anyone for getting bored with it and giving up. Congrats if you get here, then. But since there is such a gap between postings for me, then chapters may as well be extended a bit, right?
*sigh*
Truth be told, I got carried away with Amy's visions… I had far too much fun with them for my liking - which is why they're so long. But they're important.
And Knuckles… ^__^ Yes, he is back. Not going to spoil it by revealing all, can't do that… But there will be more of him in upcoming chapters. What can I say… He's still my favorite.
I got a fit of finishing this chapter 'faster' than I intended because I was actually happy. (I write better when I'm happy) Life is looking up, Mom's out of hospital, summer's here, and I even got to go on a little trip and meet an idol of mine to boot.
Leeds. Forbidden Planet. Signing.
James Marsters.
Need I say more?
O___o;;
Aww c'mon… You all know the guy… Spike the vampire, from Buffy? Know him now? So, I went, as I said, drooled a little, talked as much as I could manage, got him to sign stuff, and came home, mind-boggingly happy - which accumulated in me finishing this fic. There. Some good came from it after all.
Everyone take care, okay? (While I run of to gawk at those photos again….)
Huggles & Take CareOrin.
(Still deliriously happy, and still writing – and who has just realized that her most current Winterheart chapter is 30 pages long. O__o;; )
