4. Kith and Kin


There were days when Bunnie was insanely grateful she'd had an accident with a roboticisor after Cream was too old to be termed 'baby in arms'. It wasn't so much that she was frightened of hurting her, but… well, actually, yes it was. She was overwhelmingly afraid that what she thought of as a little tap would shatter Cream's skull, but that was the same for everyone in her life. Sally, Sonic, Tails, Rotor, Antoine – they were core Freedom Fighters, but they were brittle as dry leaves against titanium. Not even Dulcy would get away with just a headache.

But no, it wasn't just fear of injury that made Bunnie feel the way she did. When she wasn't busy being depressed over having metal parts, or potentially lethal poison percolating from them through her body, or shoving down that same depression with optimism, there was a rational part of her that was grateful she'd been able to hold Cream in her arms and know what it felt like. The tiny, warm body, the wriggly prelude to sitting up and walking, the little mouth latching onto her thumb and sucking – each one part of a symphony of memories that she could draw on and taste and smell and feel in her mind.

It was a double-edged sword, of course. With the pleasure of memory also came the frustration of the present.

Bunnie could still feel – she would have been practically unable to move without falling over if she couldn't. However, feeling and feeling were different.

She calculated walking by the resistance of the ground under her, microscopic sensors in the casing of her feet never offline, always feeding information into the bits of her that needed it. She could walk over hot coals without injury, but she still knew they were hot. She felt every twitch, strain and grind when her legs extended. She could tell the texture of whatever she picked up, right down to an infinitesimal level, something in her lower abdomen processing the signals from her hand-sensors and sending them to her brain as fast as thought.

Once upon a time, she and Rotor had attempting to figure out just how many internal organs were roboticised, but were forced to give up because his equipment and her personal magnetic field didn't gel. Finding out involved surgical procedures, and without knowing what was what in there, trying anything was about as accurate as crocheting with an elephant tusk.

There were things inside Bunnie that she didn't understand. There were things that gave her phantom sensations. A door trapping her hand made her grind her teeth in counterfeit pain. Muscles she no longer had told her they were tired during extensive exercise. She knew the difference between a cold breeze and a warm patch of sunshine without the aid of her flesh parts.

But it wasn't the same.

That was the kicker. She needed the phantom sensations to function, but they were surplus to her complete mental health. Not that she was a raging nutball or anything, but… the plain fact was they were a constant reminder of what she was missing. She had to think about how she moved where she never had before. Nowadays it was second nature, but in the beginning…

A tiny body flying through the door from outside, arms wrapping around her neck before she can even say "Howdy."

"I missed you, Bunnie!"

"Well… that's a right nice welcome, sugar. I missed you, too."

Lots of hugging, and a wrongness as well, but not one she wants to think about right now. Then eyes, far too big and brown and liquid, staring at her with unashamed adoration. And oh… oh, she's going to… no, no, don't cry! Don't cry

"Are you all better now?"

"I'm… I'm gettin' there, sugar."

"Oh. Can I still come home, even though you're just getting there?"

Smile. Nod. More hugging. More lovely wrongness. So careful she's barely touching – just the tips of individual hairs against her sensors and yes, that's right – sensors instead of nerves now, and –

"Sally says I'm not supposed to mention your funny arm and legs."

A flash of pain, but… less. She smiles weakly. "How did you like stayin' with your Aunt Sally, anyhow?"

Nose wrinkles – an expression so familiar it's like a physical ache. Missed that. Didn't realise how much.

"It was okay. Tails came over to play a lot, but Aunt Sally doesn't have a lot of toys in her hut. And she had to talk to people in the other room sometimes, which was kind of boring. I had to be real quiet."

Uh oh. Boring plus Cream equals – "Y'all didn't go pokin' around in Rotor's storeroom, did you now?"

"Um…"

"Did you?"

"Will you still love me if I say we did?"

We. Always we. Cream and Sally, Cream and Sonic, Cream and Tails, Cream and the Tooth Fairy. Cream made creatures gravitate to her. She was a little fuzzy magnet, with the cuteness of a six year old and the understanding of… something. Someone much older.

Cream and Sally – listening, watching, learning, reminding her what it was all for.

Cream and Sonic – screaming on his shoulders, going pell-mell and laughing and shrieking and snorting dust from her nose when he stopped.

Cream and Antoine – standing to attention next to him, letting him tell her about the time when he was so brave because he…

Cream and Rotor – what's this for? What's that do? How's this work? Show me, tell me, explain to me.

Cream and Tails – two little orphans, playmates, friends. The youngest of the hope they nurtured for the future. Two little mischief-makers, who had to be pulled from their latest scrape by the scruffs of their necks.

But at the end, at the heart of it all, it always came back to the same thing.

Bunnie and Cream – the finder and the found.

Propping her chin up on her fist, Bunnie stared across the table and wondered where she'd be right now, had she not taken a small detour on a routine patrol and discovered a consignment of refugees being secretly shipped into Robotropolis.

If they'd had more notice, then the Freedom Fighters might have coordinated a rescue attempt – lain in wait for a coordinated ambush, or something. It wouldn't have been just Bunnie, radioing Sonic to get his butt over to the South quarter, then diving in herself to sabotage the vehicle before it entered the heavily guarded main citadel.

Six whole years since she got chewed out for that little stunt. Six whole years since Knothole's population swelled. Six whole years since a lady rabbit called Vanilla placed a squirming bundle in her rescuer's arms and breathed her last in the filth of Robotnik's capital.

"Not to worry, folks. The cavalry's here."

There's a mad rush for the door. Bunnie isn't much with electronic locks, but she manages. She only just steps aside to let them through.

"Where do we go?" asks one.

"Our homes," another says brokenly. "They burned them… destroyed everything…"

"Where are we?" is the prevailing question. "What is this place? Why are we here?"

Bunnie looks up. A blue smudge in the shadows tells her where Sonic is, as does the clank-clank-clank of SWATbot feet. Thank goodness they always abandon their posts when they see him. You'd have thought Robotnik would see the flaw in that programming by now, but he seems determined to give them an exploitable loophole.

"Right, folks. I'm Bunnie, an' this here is Robotropolis - "

"Robotropolis!"

"What're we doing in this dump?"

"I wanna go home!"

"Are you one of Robotnik's spies?"

Fear. Anger. Distrust. She's heard it all before from refugees on their way to the roboticisor. Sometimes they apologise afterwards, when they realise what they've been saved from. Sometimes they don't.

"Why did you bring us here?" demands a thickset skunk, imposing despite the dirt on his stripes. He looks like he'd like nothing better than to knock her into next week.

Bunnie isn't scared. She's faced down dragon-Robians and had her tail singed by exploding warehouses. She's hidden in sewers and nearly been washed away. She's been frightened by much worse. "I didn't. I'm rescuin' y'all from the guy who did."

She cuts her eyes at the shadows. Where's Sally? She should be here by now. She should be –

"Bunnie!"

Relief. "Sally-girl!"

Sally jogs up, panting only slightly. Her vest is torn and her right elbow is burned. She shoots Bunnie a look that says 'we'll talk about this later' and forgoes pleasantries. "How many are we talking?"

"I ain't counted yet. Only just broke 'em out."

"There's sixteen of us," says the skunk, eyes round. Ah. He recognises Sally. This batch must be from one of the duchies. "You're…"

"Princess Sally Acorn, yes." Sally says it like she's telling him the weather, moving quickly between the refugees and counting. "I tally only fifteen, Bunnie."

"Hang on." Bunnie pokes her head inside the door. Little sparks fizzle down on her head. The vehicle has been in better shape. "Anyone in here?"

"Please…" The voice is so weak she might not have heard it, were she not listening specially.

There's a collection of rags and something in the corner. It turns out to be a creature under a blanket – far more blanket than creature, Bunnie sees when she's close enough. She's marginally surprised to see another rabbit, taller than herself, and quite a bit older. Her ears flop backwards onto the collar of a very old-fashioned dress. The creatures outside were wearing similar outfits, but here it seems even more inappropriate. Her fur is damp, but it's a funny sort of dampness – nothing at all to do with the stuffiness of the vehicle.

"Please…" she says again. "Please, help me…"

"I gotcha," Bunnie says, stepping inside. "Can you stand?"

"Help me…" The lady rabbit coughs. It's a wet sound, and puts blood on the blanket.

"Uh-oh." Bunnie curses under her breath. "Ma'am, we gotta get you out of here. You gotta see a doctor."

"Please," the lady rabbit insists, like she hasn't even heard Bunnie. "Please, you've got to… please…"

Bunnie goes closer. "Ma'am -"

Sally appears at the door. "Bunnie, we've got to move. Nicole says Robotnik's sending reinforcements, and Sonic can't take them all."

"I know, I just gotta - "

"Is there someone in there?"

"Yeah. One person. But she's hurt, Sally-girl. I think she's hurt real bad."

She can see the conflict on Sally's face, because it's early days and she hasn't learnt to hide it yet. It comes to a grinding, unpleasant conclusion. "Do your best to carry her. Here." She tosses a taser, still smoking where Nicole severed it from the dead SWATbot.

Bunnie catches it, fumbling a little.

Then Sally is gone. "Come on, people. You can get your questions answered later. For now, you either come with me, or you go straight into Robotnik's workforce."

"Why should we follow you, pipsqueak?"

"She's Princess Sally, you idiot! She's the heir to the throne of Acorn! Her father used to rule this joint."

"'Used to' being the operative phrase, brother…"

The voices fade. Bunnie turns her attention back to the lady rabbit. She can feel the sweat running through her fur, and she knows that's got nothing to do with stuffiness, either. "Ma'am," she says, her upbringing and manners refusing to let go even here.

The blanket rustles. Bunnie hears mewling and sees the dirty wrappings in the other rabbit's arms.

"Oh… hell…"

If only Sally had seen that, she might not have been so quick to leave.

But she didn't. And Bunnie is a big girl, now. It's why she's allowed on missions – because she's trained hard, and she's old enough, and experienced enough to take care of herself.

In another world she might have been flipping through teen magazines and agonising over part-time work for petty cash.

"Please… please…" the lady rabbit repeats, over and over. "Please… help me…" She coughs again. Some of the blood gets on the kit's ear.

Bunnie remembers the magazines her older sisters used to read. She remembers their bright covers and articles full of words she didn't understand. She remembers how her sisters would giggle at her behind closed doors: little Baby Bunnie, youngest sibling who didn't know anything and had to hold their hands to cross the street.

"I…"

"She gave birth en route."

Bunnie whirls. The skunk is at her shoulder. His expression can't even be described as grim.

"Her name's Vanilla. Baby doesn't have one yet."

"Her name is Cream," says the lady rabbit, stroking the kit's head and smearing the blood. "My little Cream…"

The skunk shrugs. "So I stand corrected. Both sugary enough to choke on. We gonna get to it, or what?"

Bunnie doesn't stop to ask questions about why he's stayed or why he's helping her. Every so often you get creatures who are genuinely altruistic. Not often, but sometimes… sometimes it does happen. She just has to trust to luck that this is one of those times, because the sweat is creeping down her back and there's an iron band around her skull that's making it hard to think.

"Can you carry her?"

"Probably." He moves forward.

The lady rabbit – Vanilla – lunges without warning. She catches Bunnie by the elbow, making her stumble. Before Bunnie can speak, the kit is being pushed into her arms. She has to hold it or drop it.

"Hey - "

"Please," says Vanilla, more forcefully than before. Her eyes are clear and perhaps a little overbright. "You must take care of her. You… you must keep her… she must be safe."

"I, uh… we're takin' y'all to safety, ma'am. Both of y'all. We got a base, all covert an' safe, where Buttnick can't find us - "

But Vanilla just shakes her head and slumps forward onto her nose. The skunk pulls her upright, but the clearness of her eyes has given way to cloudiness, and her stare is fixed. It was so fast, it takes a moment to register that she's died.

Bunnie looks away.

The kit wriggles and mewls.

Her eyebrows pull together. She uses her elbow to pat the taser in her waistband. "C'mon."

"Should I bring the body?"

"Yeah. Yeah, bring it – her along."

Sonic covers them as they leave, zinging this way and that, and dropping one-liners to robots that can't hear and don't care.

They're in No Beast's Land before Bunnie talks again. She can't look at the skunk, because he's carrying the larger Vanilla on his back, as if giving her a piggyback. There was blood in her mouth, and it's dribbled over his shoulder and all down his front.

"What's your name, sugar?"

He's puffing slightly, but answers, "Geoffrey. Geoffrey St. John."

They laid Vanilla to rest in the same place as they laid everyone who died in Knothole. It had gone nameless for a long time, simply because nobody wanted to acknowledge it was there. Naming it reminded them of who lay in it – Sally especially had difficulty saying she was going to visit her mother's marker every first day of Spring. Queen Alicia's actual grave was somewhere under tonnes of steel and concrete, but the marker was as good a replica of her tombstone as they could make.

When she was old enough, Cream called that place the Grave Garden.

"I won't have it." Rosie stalks around the inside of Bunnie's hut like someone shot her in her tail and she can't sit down. "This won't do. No, no, no, it simply won't do."

"I don't see what's so difficult to grasp."

She rounds on Bunnie. For a moment, Bunnie thinks Sally may have to hold her back. The last time she saw Rosie lose her temper, the nanny had seemed a whole lot bigger and younger. Her hair hadn't been grey, then, either. So she sets her shoulders and stares Rosie down. Bunnie isn't a little kit anymore.

"You're not equipped or experienced to take after a little one - "

"So I'll learn. You think all new mothers know what they're doin' at first?"

"You're barely a kit yourself! Not to mention the state of this place, and the milk she'll need, and the caring, and the… oh my stars and garters, it doesn't bear thinking about."

Bunnie scowls. "I'll. Manage."

Sally is leaning against the wall. Nicole hangs slack in her hand. "I think I might have to go with Rosie on this one, Bunnie - "

"Thank you, Princess."

Bunnie holds Cream closer. The blankets are from her bed, and are a little old, but they've been washed and smell like sunrise. Cream is asleep, so they're all shouting in whispers. "I ain't givin' her up."

"Bunnie," Sally says gently, "she's not yours to lay claim to."

"She's more mine than Rosie's. Vanilla gave her to me."

"Because nobody else was with her when she was passing on."

"Geoffrey was there. Vanilla still gave her to me."

"Be that as it may, you can't seriously say you can look after her as well as Rosie can. Besides which, you've got other responsibilities to think about."

Bunnie can feel the tears pricking the backs of her eyes. She blinks them away. They're childish and won't help her argument. "Sally, please. I need to do this."

The frown on Sally's face is more confused than anything else. "Need to?"

"Aha. You need to do it. You're thinking of what's best for you, not what's best for the kit." There's an accusing note in Rosie's voice. And Bunnie, in all honesty, can't deny it.

She takes a deep breath. It comes out in a whoosh, like someone just punched her mid-sentence. "If I say I'd give up bein' a Freedom Fighter to care for her… then would you let me keep her?"

The silence is a stunned one.

"Bunnie - "

Bunnie cuts them off. "I never saw my Ma again, Sally-girl. Me an' Pa… he came up to work at court an' I came up visitin' for a few months. I felt so special, bein' chosen out of all my sisters. The coup happened while we were here, an' then… I never got to see her again. I never got to see none of 'em again. Vanilla… I didn't know her for more than ten minutes, but she reminded me so much of my Ma… I need to do this. You gotta understand, Sally-girl."

"Miss Sally, I really must object." Rosie rams fists against her hips, disregarding Sally's title completely. Titles mean a lot less when you've changed the owner's diapers.

Sally taps her chin with one finger. "Rosie already looks after Tails."

"Tails is nearly four, already. He ain't no kit. By all accounts he wants to move into Sugar-hog's hut if y'all let him. He idolises that ball of blue fur."

Rosie's expression darkens. Her eyes slide sideways, presumably to wherever Tails is beyond the hut's walls. "Oh he does, does he?"

"Are you really willing to give up being a Freedom Fighter to do this, Bunnie?"

Rosie snaps back to the present. "Miss Sally!"

Bunnie nods. "If'n that's what it takes. What she needs."

"You worked so hard to be one… We'd miss you on missions."

"That Geoffrey fellah seemed mighty keen to join up. He could take my place."

"He's enthusiastic, true," Sally says, in a way that makes Bunnie think he isn't only enthusiastic about the work. She wonders what Sonic thinks about that – or whether he even knows. "But he's not trained. So – how would you feel about training him? And the other rescuees who want to be Freedom Fighters."

"What – you mean, like, teachin'?"

"If you can't be in the field, I at least expect you to pull your weight back here in Knothole. Everybody has a job to do, Bunnie. Up until now yours has been active service."

"You … want me to train 'em in martial arts an' stuff."

"Everything you know, they have to know." Sally shrugs. "I was thinking of asking Cat to do it, but he's getting a bit long in the tooth for demonstrations. And while you're teaching, Rosie can babysit Cream."

Bunnie opens her mouth to protest… and then closes it again. She makes several key connections, glances down at Cream, and purses her lips. "That's the best offer I'm gonna get, ain't it?"

"Rosie is experienced in this sort of thing. Do you even know where the powdered milk's kept?"

She didn't.

"Rosie can teach you want you need to know about caring for Cream. You'll have the best tuition you can get for that, and in turn, you pass on the best tuition you can to new Freedom Fighters." Sally smiles. It's strained, but rueful and real. "Unless, of course, you'd like to reconsider about being a stay-at-home mother."

"I ain't a mother. I ain't her mother." Bunnie pauses. When she continues, she does so sotto voice. "But I'll care for her, best as I can. Ain't no kit should grown up without someone there for 'em." She sighs and nods. "Y'all drive a hard bargain, Sally-girl."

Rosie glares at them both, and then throws up her hands. "And I thought you two were trouble when you were kits?"

"Is that a no, Rosie?"

"That's a never you mind, Miss Sally Alicia Acorn." She grunts like the grumpy old lady she isn't. Not quite yet. "In all my years, I have never heard anything so… Oh, what the bilberries. I'm not going to change your mind, am I?" she asks Bunnie, who shakes her head. "Well then, if you're determined to disregard my advice, then I can at least make sure you don't botch the task. I may not be as young as I was when you two – and that confounded hedgehog – were small, but it's possible you'll learn something, Bunnie dear."

Back to 'dear'. Bunnie and Sally exchange a look.

Sally's smile stays, but gains layers of eloquence. She knows what it's like to lose family to Robotnik. She knows each beast is different in how they cope.

Bunnie sees it and replies in kind in a heartbeat.

Sally's going to make a mighty fine leader of this here operation.

"Whatcha doin', sugar?"

Cream didn't stop kneading the heap of mush. Her tongue poked out the side of her mouth, as if the amount of concentration needed for her task required more room in her head. "Working."

"Workin' at what?"

"Working hard."

"You makin' sumthin'?"

"Mmhmm."

"Bread?" It was the only thing Bunnie could thing of that might start out that colour.

"No, silly."

"Oh. What is it, then?"

"You can't tell?" Cream finally looked up, expression a little hurt. "I'm making Sonic. Look, here are all his little spikes, and his shoes, and his gloves. And these holes are his eyes."

It looked like it had been some sort of flightless bird before it wandered in front of a laser cannon.

"It's modelling clay. Tails gave it to me. He says he's too big to use it now he's a proper Freedom Fighter."

Bunnie raised an eyebrow. "Tails is a proper Freedom Fighter?"

"Uh-huh."

"He said that?"

"Well, he said Sally's almost totally said he is one, so he's as good as."

"Right. Well, that there sculpture is pretty as a li'l red wagon, darlin'."

Cream paused and looked at a lump of clay in her hand. As she spoke, she pressed flower patterns into it with her thumb. "One day, when I'm grown up like Tails, will I be a Freedom Fighter, too?"

Bunnie heard the words, but they didn't register for a moment. She was too busy thinking in incoherent screams and curses. When those had abated, she said in a calm voice, "When you're old enough, there may not be no Freedom Fighters to join."

"Why not?" Cream sounded incensed, as thought the resistance was there solely to see to her whims and fancies.

"Well, Robotnik might not be around no more. If there's no Robotnik, then there's no need for Freedom Fighters. 'Cause we'd all be free already, see?"

Cream pouted. "But I want to be a Freedom Fighter like Tails."

"You two could form your own Freedom Fighters. Freedom from the tyranny of parents an' guardians."

Cream just looked at her. "You can be so weird sometimes."

Bunnie saluted and winked. "Mission accomplished."

"So, if I can't be a Freedom Fighter when I'm grown up, can I be one now instead? Will you train me like you train the others?"

One last piercing wail cut through Bunnie's thoughts. Her expression never flickered for a second. "Just 'cause a body can, don't mean it's gotta."

That was what Sally had said to her, when Geoffrey was too injured to go on an important mission and everyone who could have replaced him already had his or her own task. Bunnie had stepped up, feeling more than a little guilty after years of not going into the field. She ignored Sally, took Geoffrey's slot, and had a run-in with a roboticisor for her troubles.

"What?" Cream was nonplussed. She scrunched the clay into a ball and rolled it around between her palms. "Is that a no?"

Bunnie shook herself. "That's a clear this stuff away so's I can serve dinner."

"But you're not even cooking anything!"

"By the time you're done clearin' up, I could've fixed a three course dinner, set the table, an' serenaded the centrepiece. Now get to clearin'. There's only a couple hours of daylight left."

Cream sighed deeply and squashed the model of Sonic back into its original shapeless shape. "Is Antoine coming over for dinner?"

"Not tonight, punkin'."

"Is Sonic?"

"Nu-uh."

"Phooey."

Bunnie got up and went to the kitchen, marvelling at the sheer domesticity of the scene. She ignored the fact that there was a meeting at Sally's hut tonight, and she was going over to Rotor's tomorrow for some more tests. Rosie would be over first thing after breakfast. She was taking Cream and Tails on a picnic and nature ramble.

It was possible they'd learn something.


And yea, we have some more Reviewer Replies to contend with. All three of them.

What I meant, CarriePika, is that in my initial poking around the fandom, anyone who talked about you had only praise and high regard for you. Hence, I termed you as an 'Authority' for the Sonic fandom because that's what my brain had pigeonholed you as. Sorry if this caused any confusion. It was a compliment, really. As for the last two chapters; I get inspired by artwork a lot. I sketch - badly - but true purdy artwork is beyond my grasp. Therefore I make noises like "Murr" whenever I see something I really like, and sometimes it inspires ficcage - the highest compliment I can think to give it. As the above segment shows ;) . Bunnie is neglected, isn't she? Even by the Archie writers. Dan Drazen's written some nice Bunnie fiction, but apart from thatI can't really think of any where she's had a large(ish) role. Mayhap you know of some?

Hey, UKHoneyB. Ahh! Another Sonic Brit! I feel the need to huggle you now, just for that, but I'll refrain. Thanks for the kind words. Hopefully this chapter lived up to expectations. If not, well ... bugger.

This is your first Sonic fic, Trolli? I feel kind of squishy inside, now. Glad you liked the line in Ch2. I think I was having Blackadder flashbacks when I wrote that, but it seemed to work anyway. So, cheers for the kind words. Much appreciated.