Iron Skin, Golden Heart

by obsidian dreamer

After the Bloodstone's destruction, two beacons of hope are lit. Yet as the Dark Legion grows and an old foe rises once more, the choice must be made between a perfect life, or another's life. Continuation from A Bloodstone Rose. SERIOUS KnuxRouge, Big

17. Chapter 17 A Ghost that Haunts Forever

Chapter 17 – A Ghost that Haunts Forever.

A/N: To my reviewers, I ask only that, when you read this, you resist the urge to hunt me down and beat me with sticks:

HHH/TH/Ri2 – All that breaks with a snap is not bone; think on that. P.S – HHH; I'd have loved to have given you the answer, but I think you needed to meet me halfway on this one; having the question you wanted a hand with would have helped :-) (and anyway, science teachers have never been forgiving even on the best of days; you could have been paralysed from the neck down and you'd still only have got a couple of days extension.

DH – Shadow and Espio; well I will say I have plans for them in the future, but no, not with Mighty (BTW, where did you get the idea Espio had a hidden flame for her – I thought I wrote him cold as ice?)

Slowly, one step at a time, each single movement generating fresh pain as wounds were split apart and broken ribs grated against each other, Big continued his wretched journey, each step his body took on the path to healing mirrored by every step of his mind on the road to damnation. Tears cleaned twin tracks through the blood on his face; his cheek fur had been washed clean with his own tears as he could not stop them falling; each attempt met with failure as the events of the past minutes and, in tandem with those dire circumstances, the event years before smashed aside any barriers he could erect, squashed any argument he could put forth in his defence. He saw his own darkness again and again, and he knew it would never be brightened; this time I tried to save life, but I still submitted, I let myself go too far.

The cat's slow trudge halted for a second as grief welled up within him once more, he had to stop or risk dropping the burden he held in his hands, Mighty's lifeless body limp in his arms as he carried her to the place they both desperately needed to be. From a distance, Big would have looked like a pall bearer, slow, measured strides calculating the distance, well aware of any uneven circumstances in the ground as he felt his way forwards, the journey illuminated as the sun was overhead, perhaps only just beginning to sink, unable to bear the sight of him any longer, a beast in a polite disguise. The past is a ghost that haunts us forever; Big bowed his head, recalling an old saying as easily as he would anything else, grateful for his abnormality even as he cursed what it had done to him; with this, just like the last time, the scars won't heal. For how long he carried on, the dire memories picking and sniping at his mind again even as he was helpless before them, unable to block them out or protect himself, he didn't know; it was only a feeble groan that broke the chain, forcing him to focus on his burden again as she squirmed unknowingly, fighting her way out of unconsciousness.

XXX

She was weak; tiredness saturated every fibre on her being and so she rested there, the effort of even opening her eyes too much to even begin to contemplate even as pain began to filter through her comfortable numbness. It itched and irritated, seeking to pull her back to the land of the alive even as she struggled against it, safe in the womb of oblivion, wanting to pause where she was, forget the world. But it would not let her be; stronger and stronger the pain pull became, and fighting against it, raising her hands and fists, was counterproductive, bringing only further reinforcements to the fight against her. Her eyelids, she could feel them, much as she could virtually see the consciousness streaming down from her brain and the blackness that surrounded it; more and more she felt, and thus more and more did she suffer from the pain of exposure to the harsh reality of her condition. Struggling against cramp even if her left arm refused to move, held rigid and immobile, Mighty finally succumbed to the inevitable and, drawing in a deep final breath through her mouth, lips peeling apart gummily, the armadillo let her eyelids flop open.

The pictures were blurry, focus not yet restored even as her raw skin reported in; apparently, her entire right side was being pressed gently into something soft and warm. Her shell lacked all forms of sense, so it was only her left shoulder that felt support, being buoyed up by something strong but at the same time yielding to her weight. Something else was just under her tail, again supporting her weight and, she smiled as she finally recognised what was under the fingers of her left hand, giving a tiny squeeze that she felt the hand supporting her hip reciprocate. Despite the pain and sudden super sensitivity she felt to the wind in the air, she knew enough to feel safe, the satisfaction and general relief of knowing her gamble must have paid off. As she finally let her eyes focus upwards, she managed to whisper a few words,

"We did it Big".

The cat somehow managed to smile, the accusations of hate and fear blocked of for a second as now, unlike the last time, gratitude was present – he had saved someone's life and there was the briefest hint of solace in that fact; he had surrendered to his appetite for destruction and that he could never forgive himself for, but at least he had done so for someone else. Looking down as Mighty smiled up at him, secure in her victory and now assured safety, the cat answered,

"Yeah, we did".

Her sight had returned and suddenly she wished her eyes dim again; Big's head was down, face a mask of dried blood, his body criss-crossed with slashes and wounds inflicted by Metal's claws and the jerky, slow pace of his walking made her suspect broken ribs. But of everything, it was his expression and the realisation that the sorrow and hatred she had seen there earlier had surfaced explosively, making his face pale and gaunt, alien to the smiling cat she associated, would always associate with Big. She moved her arm up to stroke his cheek, but in her haste forgot that it had been broken; there was a flare of pain that she quickly checked by relaxing, but barely a second later she had the realisation that she hadn't been able to bend the wounded limb. Raising her head and craning her neck, the armadillo let out a mewl of shock as she saw the twin splints that now encased her arm, setting it rigidly straight and preventing the broken bones from moving within her arm, aggravating the break. That he'd been able to support her injury so well was miracle enough, but as she saw what had actually made up the splint, she felt her sense of awe and humility deepen; it must have cost the earth for him to do that;

"Big", the eyelets of the crudely broken twigs that had once been Big's pride and joy stared at her with mesmerising grace, "that's…"

"Replaceable", he cut her off, not wanting to remember how it had hurt to feel the wood give under his hands but, of course, not having a choice in the matter; new tears sprang up and he couldn't stop them even as he spoke the truth, "your arm isn't". The armadillo nodded, seeming to let her head fall back, eyes drifting shut for a moment as exhaustion took its toll on her. Seeing her nod off, the cat was alone again, facing off against the worst the past could do to him.

XXX

"Big?"

It had taken careful planning; though it was by far her preferred tactic to dive in and plough through, it wasn't an option here and feigning sleep had been the best way to gain the peace she needed to plan. This was a nut she couldn't just crack open with a sledgehammer, to try it would simply drive the cat deeper into his mourning; no, this required delicacy, a gentle touch to coax him out of his shell and open up to her; maybe she could help him, but he had to let her first and there in lay the difficulty. This is the best I think I can do; Mighty had always been brought up to try her best, but this time she knew she couldn't try – there wasn't any room for failure here; it's all down to him from here. For a second she thought he hadn't heard her soft whisper and wetted her lips to try again, but then his head swung down to her, tearing his still watering eyes from where they had been surveying the horizon.

"Yes?" Screwing up her courage, heart speeding up as she thought of the consequences this fatal question could have, for either or both of them. Unsure of her tone, never sure if it was a good idea to be casual or not, she went for the root of the issue,

"What happened back there?"

"Mighty, please"; I can't explain it – I can't let the guilt spread to others, they can't understand; "I don't, it's not anything, I won't talk about…" He was silenced more by surprise than the sudden pressure he registered on his lips; something soft brushed his mouth and stilled his broken pleas for silence. Rolling his eyes down, Big saw Mighty looking up at him again, face perfectly serious but at the same time open, soothing as she slowly removed her hand from his lips and spoke once more, voice gentle and mild but at the same time brooking no opposition as the words reached him,

"You can talk to me Big; I had problems at school as well".

XXX

It wasn't somewhere she liked to go in her mind, though thankfully she'd mostly forgotten about it, the hateful whispered barely troubled her now as they had earlier when she had nearly been reduced to tears by them. It was unpleasant, but she needed Big to trust her and, if Mr Trenton had been anything to go by, showing him that she had undergone his experience as well was a good place to start.

"You?" That was good; rather than sorrow or guilt in his deep voice now, or even worse, awkward questions about where she'd found that out about him, there was incredulity as he couldn't believe that admission, "who in their right mind would…?"

"It was the whispers", once at the surface, she had to let the truth go because dwelling on it hurt too much to keep inside for long, "I was never excellent at school, I never looked like a porn star or wore much make up, or had my ears, nose or eyebrows done, so I was rejected by the in-crowd", her lip curled as she spat the words that rankled with her still, "and boy they didn't let me forget it". Curiosity usually kills the cat; she saw his want to ask the question even as his manners sought to prevent him doing so; but in this case it might just save him.

"What happened?" As she'd hoped, he couldn't help but ask and that was good; she was drawing him into this, making him trust her and the next step of this easier,

"The rumours", she tried to be nonchalant but her body defeated her; even as it hurt, straining at recently formed scabs and pulling on aching muscles, she tensed up, snarling in distaste as she carried on, "you know, they all said I was dumb, or that my mother…well, you get the picture?" He nodded; she read from his eyes that he knew in more than one sense and as such, she was able to carry on,

"Can't remember how long it went on for; not too long though, I got sick of it in the end; the teachers couldn't prove anything and, looking back I suppose they couldn't, so I sorted it out", a feral smile emerged on her face; somehow, this scene stood out clearly in her memories and it still gave the satisfaction rush it had from years ago, "I found the biggest loud-mouth I could, and I hit him".

Big winced; luckily he'd never seen how hard Mighty could actually hit something, but having been forced to prise Metal's uprooted arm from her unconscious grip, he could take an educated guess if the strength of that grip was anything to go by. Mighty nodded in relish, speaking even as relived the memory in her mind, her words little more than running commentary,

"I just walked up, tapped him on the shoulder, he turned round and said something rude, so I slugged him", she used the thumb of her operational hand to finger the very point of her chin, "got him right there, nailed him dead on; I didn't break his jaw, I wasn't that strong then, but I made his eyes water for sure".

"And were you punished for this?"

"Nah, not really", Mighty gave a shrug, seeing the disbelief on Big's face and not quite understanding it; all I did was stick up for myself – there's nothing wrong with that; "I got a few detentions, but the teachers knew I was having a hard time and mostly let it slide; his mum was making a lot of noise and she dragged me and my parents into the head's office – I think she was going to complain until my dad turned her car around and pushed it out the front gate – that shut her up", she smiled at that memory and quipped, "runs in the family I guess".

"Yeah, I guess". He was still not fully convinced, but that was a good a job as she could do; now it was the end of this, all that happened next would depend on him. With baited breath and her fingers crossed, Mighty looked the cat square in the face,

"What about you Big; you had a hard time as well – you asked me and I answered; now I ask you – what happened?"

XXX

He was cornered, no two ways about it; had it been any other secret than this, he would have spilt it immediately, confiding in her as she had done with him. But this, this was something else; he wanted to forget it even if he knew it would never be possible for him and as always the worst fear of all. If she knows what I've done, how close I came to killing someone; he drew in a deep breath, trying to sort out his muddied thoughts; would she desert me – I can't…I don't want that, not from her. But at the same time, much as he didn't want Mighty to abandon him, there was no denying the truth that a small and much silenced part of him wanted so desperately to jettison that which he'd spent his life since that point trying to forget, had grown aged and tired of bottling up and was now desperate to talk regardless of the outcome. As Atlas had passed his burden of the great sky to Hercules, if only for a moment, so he could lift his burden for a mere minute. A combination of expectation, respect for both Mighty's courage in breaking the ice first and revealing her own unpleasant truths and just a weary desire for the nightmare to pause, compelled the first words of the stole, the whole, grisly story, to spill from his lips,

"I was four, just turning to five, when they first saw it…"

XXX

So young; the age was a shock to her; to have grown up with it for a few months was bad, but years, decades even…; mighty stilled her tongue and her whole body, even as the sight of Big in such pain was tearing at her to say something, hold her arm around him to ease the strain as the story wore on,

"I'd just started taking proper classes; we were just starting to learn the two-times table", a small smile broke Big's pain for a moment, the memory sweet before it turned to rancid and foul, "the teacher, Ms Wheelen, she'd drawn it up on the board, all the way to twelve; we all started reciting it, you know, trying to learn. After a couple of goes, she covered the board and said to do it again, and I did. Just me".

"You did the whole table?" They could have called him a swot or a nerd maybe…

"All the way, first time", the cat nodded, recalling the pride at the praise from his tutor at the mnemonic feat, "at break, Ms Wheelen took me to the head, Mr Cook, to show him; he joked and said I should try it again, and I did, the whole table all over, no cards, nothing. That was when he stopped laughing".

"I bet; that's impressive at just under five".

"It got better", his tone was dead, untouched even by the pride she would have certainly let herself feel; her suspicions of being reputed as a swot rapidly increased as he continued, "he reached into his desk, handed me an old strip of card that had the three times table on it; said I should read it. I recited it once, then he took it back and asked if I could say it again. I did, perfectly, the whole way through again". Mighty hardly believed this; it had taken her three weeks to nail the three times table, and sometimes she still had trouble with it now.

"Jammy sod; after just one read?" Big carried on as though he hadn't heard her,

"He said I was a good lad and told me to go and play with the others; I didn't have a clue what he was doing next until eight days later", his eyes misted though his voice remained consistently dead as he spoke on, "I was excused from class and taken into what was the dining hall; my mum and dad were there, with Mr Cook and someone else, introduced herself as Ms Venett. She was nice to me, said she had a few tests for me to try out, like little games; I played them, not realising what they were trying to do with me. After an hour, the break time bell went and they let me go, all polite and looking pleased with me. I didn't think anything of it, until I got home that night. Mum and dad were all over the place with excitement; at the table while we were eating, Dad stood up and told everyone what the news was; he looked at me and said I'd been given a gift", the word was poison, Big spat it out like a venomous snake, lips creased in bitterness as he repeated his father's words in his own, "a great gift, and I'd proved it earlier", he looked down at her; Mighty tried to make the gears click as she suddenly knew exactly what he was going to ask, "any ideas what that gift was, which blessing someone upstairs had seen fit to bestow on me?" Sarcasm was putting her off, but she finally took a stab in the dark,

"Good memory?"

"No"; oh well, wasn't expecting to get…; "not good, perfect", she looked up at him, half-sitting up in amazement as Big revealed the hidden truth he had been cursed with; and it is a curse, no matter what anyone else says – it's going to kill me one day, slowly poisoning me until I just give up and die; "I can never forget".

XXX

It didn't sink in; of everything she'd been expecting, that hadn't even made the top one million list. She tried to think of what that could be like, what it could have meant for a person to never, ever forget anything, have perfect vision of the past, but she couldn't; it was as hopeless as trying to explain what colour was to a blind man. Her mouth moved, suddenly dry as she croaked,

"You, you remember…?"

"Everything", the cat nodded, reassuring her of that fact beyond doubt, "anything I see, anything I feel, anything I do", he shuddered even as Mighty felt the arm supporting her waist twitch; she guessed had he not been carrying her, he would have tapped his temple; as things stood, she wasn't sure how she'd cope on her feet and didn't want to risk blacking out again, "it's all up here, all in my head and I can never get rid of it".

The pieces clicked into place and her mind expanded dramatically; it was as if she'd panned out to see how the world worked from a wider perspective; he sees, he can remember at any time…it makes so much sense, it's perfect.

"That's how you draw, isn't it?" She didn't wait for his answering nod; she couldn't, her excitement wasn't going to let her as it moved her lips for her, the words tumbling over each other to explain things, "you're a great artist because it's there all the time; you don't need a pose, you just shut your eyes and the scene you want's there. That's how you do it, that's why your so good", one image flashed up, the prime example of the proof of this and she seized upon it; forgetting that she wasn't supposed to know of it, that she'd sworn a promise of secrecy, the armadillo exclaimed, "that's how you painted The End of the Hunt".

Big stopped dead, every muscle in his body suddenly taught as a bow string as Mighty felt herself compressed even harder into his chest; something like an electric charge ran through her body as fear mixed with heady excitement. The scene remained such for a moment; Big seeming to ask without moving his lips,

"How did you know that?"

"I, ah"; that wasn't planned…what now? I'm a hopeless liar, just say it and go from there; "I was going to get another sketch book for you, just to say thanks for the bed for the night. I had a look at the original, so I knew where to go. I went to Trenton's and…"

"I can guess what happened next", Big was angry, but she was cautiously optimistic that the rage was draining out of him, as if he realised this was a secret that would have come out eventually, it had been merely a matter of time, "my portfolio?"

"Yes, I've seen it", here there was no plan; these were words from the heart and the heart alone, "Big, every single one of those is a master work; Mr Trenton's right, you are the brightest talent there is probably in the world today, but you live in a swamp, alone, with nothing? I don't understand".

"You wouldn't"; the tone was harsh and unfeeling; Mighty slunk away a little, feeling the line she was treading buckle before a tremor communicated itself through Big's body; she looked up to see his face twist in self-recrimination before he opened his eyes again and looked, beginning an apology she didn't need to hear,

"Hey", she reached up with her sound arm again, gently placing her hand on the blood-spattered fur on his shoulder, rubbing softly as she brushed off any perceived insult, "don't sweat it; there's a lot here I can't see, I should have been more careful on unknown ground". He was quiet for a minute, turning his cheek to the source of her comforting strokes; she had to stretch up a little to reach his cheek but she managed it, running her still gloved hands through the damp fur there before sinking back, granting Big the time he needed to speak again in his own time.

XXX

The cat began walking once more, barely registering the weight he still carried as he spoke again, the tone still lifeless as he trudged on, recognising the landmarks effortlessly as he had walked this way before, his infallible hindsight showing him the way,

"I loved my primary school", that took Mighty a little by surprise, but she held her peace as he carried on, "I was okay at subjects, it was mostly parroting anyway so I was, as you can imagine, excellent at it. But most of all I loved it because I had loads of friends; I used to amaze them with my memory – they tried for years to make me forget tiny things but I couldn't", the armadillo was relieved to hear a chuckle in his lightening mood as he recalled one incident above all, "one time, during one of those half-days off you get sometimes, they got a pack of cards and tried to make me forget the order of the cards, how many extra cards they slipped in, what way around some cards were, anything to try and make me slip, but I beat all of them; I made thirty marbles, fourteen conkers and half an Easter egg out of that one". Mighty joined the laughter even if she knew it would be fleeting,

"The world's smallest gambling racket; Big, the godfather of the playground, got a bit of a ring to it".

"Maybe, but it never lasted did it?" His eyes had hardened and Mighty realised this was coming to a conclusion, "we were all split apart, two different schools in the area; had to take a test to go to the best and I aced it with my memory; only one other guy from my primary made it in with me and I didn't get on brilliantly with him. So I was on my own when secondary school started. I learned something in my first day there", the cat snorted in contempt, though whether the negative emotion was aimed at himself or those who had taught him the lesson, she didn't know, "no-one likes a smart-arse".

XXX

So it all started here; Mighty could picture it perfectly – new kid, seemingly smarter than most, does well, so everyone else, especially those who haven't got two brain cells to rub together, have to try and drag him down to their level; how totally…cowardly, and stupid.

"They, ah, didn't get on with you?"

"They made my life hell", Big spat, anger resurfacing as he filled her in, "every day they picked at me, went for me; I nearly had a break down in my third year, but I could cope. My mum and dad were there for me, and half-way through my first summer I ran into Mr Trenton's shop, trying to get away, and he took my under my wing. He taught me to draw, than moved on to paints; I loved it and it dulled what they all tried to do to me. In art, I was my own man, I thought I could use paint to find a world where I was free, they couldn't touch me, but I was wrong", his teeth were bared, hatred of himself was evident and Mighty was again lost as to why; what went wrong – what did they do to you Big?

"It was meant to be a present", the torrent was rising, the cat slowing to a snail's pace as the armadillo listened intently, hanging on his every word as it may have held the key to unlocking this deadly history, "I liked the headmaster, and he was going to leave the same year I was, so I wanted to get him something. He was Mr Edwards, and he always tried to make it out like the school was a home from home, so I decided to try that; I painted the school from the front, getting all the buildings right, trying to get it as perfect as I could in my head. Mr Trenton knew the man, so he let me use part of his store; I tried for weeks, months even, until I was sure it was as good as I could make it. My dad paid for Mr Trenton to frame it, and it was all set to go; there was going to be a special assembly the next day as the head stepped down. I brought the picture in, gave it to my form teacher, and then went off to the assembly". He had to stop completely, the memory racing back and forcing more tears from his sore, aching ducts; Mighty watched as more pure tears were discoloured by the blood they encountered and her heart went out to the colossus carrying her as his soul-rending lament continued,

"It was on the main stage, covered up as the speeches went on; service to school, a pupil's favourite for many years, a great man and friend, then right at the end it was to be presented; a gift from a gifted individual seated here. I was called to the front of the whole assembly, I've never been so proud of myself, to hand it over to Mr Edwards; he smiled and went to accept it as the cover came off and…" Mighty knew with heart-wrenching certainty what was going to happen next; Big's voice choked off, unable to finish – he could only nod his head at her guess,

"It was ruined?"

"Black cross", the cat drew a shuddering breath to try and talk once more, drawing himself up as he shook her tears from his eyes, "there was a cross, right across it, spoiled it. Everyone laughed, Mr Edwards was trying to be nice but I saw his face; he was as cut up as I was. Me, I just ran, I can't explain what I was feeling, I just had to get out of there – I went as fast as I could, just ran, locked myself in the first room I could and sat down".

"You did well", they were meant to be comfort, but in this case her words had the same affect as cracker crumbs to a starving, dying man, "just running away, get out of there".

"But I didn't; should've but I…" the storm was raging now, Big sinking slowly to his knees in case his arms went, unable to wipe away his own tears as Mighty closed her eyes, "…I thought, about it, and the more I did, I felt something inside me; it got bigger, stronger and it wanted to be let go. I should've, been stronger, but I couldn't; I was angry, so mad, I wanted to hurt them, make them feel as bad as I did; I went lower than any of them could ever be. I knew who'd done it; and I went after him".

XXX

He was destroying himself; Mighty could see that clearly now, the memory of what he'd done was crushing him; from his face she knew, she just knew, he wasn't seeing the past, he was reliving it; the anger was etched on his face and she heard something scrape across her shell, his claws flexing out instinctively as his words were twisted, guttural with rage,

"I knew where he'd be and I went there; I felt so strong, like I could take on the world, nothing could stop me and I'd do what I wanted, when I wanted. It was powerful, I was powerful; people, teachers and staff as well, they saw me and just ran out the way; anyone in the way I just pushed past them, I didn't care – all I could see was red. I saw him, and I just reacted; he never stood a chance".

"Good", she couldn't help herself; the injustice was enough to warrant such punishment; to have something so lovingly painted destroyed would have done the same to anyone and Mighty knew that, "Big, after that anyone would have been out for blood; if it were me he'd be dead by now…"

"He nearly was", the words were an anguished cry as his knees gave way, landing them both on the ground with a thump that sent pain up Mighty's arm, "the only reason he survived was because he was taller than me".

Oh Jesus; in that second, Mighty remembered the conclusions she'd come to earlier, why Big had been able to succeed where she had failed; he was built for the kill, and no-one saw it coming. She wanted to block it out, but she resisted the urge to close her eyes; she had to understand what Big had done, see his tormented features, before she could even hope to have a plan of attack to cure it,

"If we'd been the same height, I'd have slit his throat open", the cat wailed like he were dying, and he might have been wishing he was if his face was anything to go by, "I ripped his chest apart, blood went everywhere but I didn't care, I wanted it, I wanted to hurt him, he deserved to pay I told myself, and I didn't let up. I just went on going, claws, teeth and fists; it took four staff and a couple of pupils to drag me off and even then I still wanted to go, finish what I'd started. But it went, the bloodlust went, and I was left alone again; when I came back down, and I saw, I knew what I'd done".

"And no-one could blame you", Mighty thrashed, tears in her own eyes as she fought to stand up, damn her own weakness as she half-managed to sit I his arms, skimming the grass with her toecaps as she cried over his own roars of pain, "no-one would; after everything they'd done to you, ruining your work, they deserved it, he deserved it; you gave a piece of scum exactly what he deserved and there's nothing wrong with that. You went really mad at someone, everyone does once in a while, I sure as hell do; it's just something that happens and you have to…"

It was the word she had meant to say that did it; freezing numbness paralysed her completely, the gulf between them stretched into eternity and just for once Mighty prayed it was something she'd never cross, at least not for this. She knew inside herself with horrible certainty that she couldn't do what Big must have done, was still doing even to this day, standing up strong, living with the past as only he could,

"You can't, can you?" Her words came out in a strangled, horrified whisper, mind still reeling as the scales fell from her eyes, "you're still there, it's still there, isn't it? You can't forget".

XXX

"I can, still feel the bones break", Big shuddered, sobbing uncontrollably as Mighty had no choice but to listen, she couldn't cover her ears, forced to endure along side him as he continued, "the taste's still there; I can, sip blood whenever I want, and it's horrible. But, but the worst was, everyone was like you; they said it wasn't my fault, but they were lying"; no, no they weren't, I'm not, it wasn't you; "there was doubt there, in their eyes, just for a second but that was enough; there's blood", he choked for a second, sobs wracking him as his voice, a feeble shadow of its normal richness, tried to continue, "there's blood on my hands Mighty, and I know they'll never be clean; time can't wash it off and I can't forgive myself – I'll always know I should have been stronger, I shouldn't have gone all the way". It was too much for the armadillo; with a cry of regret and shared pain, she reared up, ignoring the pain in her broken arm as she wrapped her other around Big's neck, pulling herself in tight, trying to help shoulder his burden as he carried on, a new chapter in his awful story, so freshly scribed the ink could still blot the pages,

"I had to run away, left everything; my mum was in tears but she knew what I had to do. Dad and my sisters helped build my home, and I've not seen them since, not very often anyway; just write when I can. But now this; I gave in again, and it'll never leave me; I want to live alone, have to, try and live with what I did and now it's just got stronger. The sight of you, covered in blood, just before you fainted, the screaming", with his free hand he squeezed his own head as though straining to crush his skull like a melon, "it's poison, a poison in my mind, and it'll drive me mad eventually. I've ruined my gift, polluted it and it will kill me for doing so".

"You weren't there".

XXX

Clinging on as she was, Mighty was battered by the force of his words, the raw pain within them enough to make her own arm feel like a nick with a razor. His art, ruined and that's all he can see, because he has seen nothing different; all she had to picture that could possibly form comfort from was a scene from her own recent memory, a world away from Big's and never had she been more grateful; suddenly forgetfulness, often reviled for rearing its head at exactly the wrong moment, seemed like the greatest favour ever given to mortals.

"You weren't there", he whispered, for her throat was too constricted for her to do anything else, "you never saw their faces Big; Rouge was…and Knuckles too, they saw The End of the Hunt; it's a treasure to them Big, priceless, worth more than the world".

"My art damned me", his words were immutable, set in stone; he couldn't take her word for it, "the picture, when it was ruined made me lose my mind and when it came back, it was damaged".

"No" her grip tightened, her hand snaking into the back of the cat's neck and gripping, dragging his head up to look her square in the eye, the fire of challenge lit there once more, "you are not damaged, you are a good Mobian and a kind one. You just saved my life, and you've made two of your friends the happiest people in the world today; I will make you see that".

With that new desire burning in her soul like a cold fire, the armadillo stopped caring for herself; in seconds, she had her shoulder underneath Big's and was straining upwards, fresh determination in her manner as she spoke uncompromisingly,

"Right, up; the station's this way", slowly his arm rose; Mighty gritted her teeth as the strain pulled on her recently formed scabs but carried on through the pain barrier, "we both need casualty, then we'll go from there". As the cat took his first pace forwards, restarting the journey, Mighty felt everything else melt away; pain, exhaustion, the lot – never before had she focussed on a goal as she did now. As the path lay before her, she knew she had to somehow come up with a plan to help piece back together this broken, guilty mind.

XXX

The guard had seen them, come rushing over to help ease them into a carriage; Mighty brushed off the questions as Big was in no fit state to answer them. The pair sat down and the driver was notified; there were no stops on the way back to Station Square, it was obvious to anyone that the both the Mobians needed help badly. The train roared into the station and the ambulance was already waiting, one for each of them; though it hurt like hell to separate, Mighty had to let the cat go, sinking onto the cot the paramedics supplied for her, body resting as her mind raced; somehow she had to see a way that would let Big forget; no, that's not possible, he can't forget – it's like, I've got to drown out the bad stuff, make him focus on something else; she was only jerked back to reality from her brooding when a nurse loomed over her, asking for her next of kin.

"None, not in this city anyway, but I've got some friends here, would they…?" Yes; there it was, a silver road for her to walk; if Mohammad can't go to the mountain...; she quickly gave the address and number; the nurse noted it and then departed, a slight frown on consternation on her face as she wondered why anyone could smile about having a broken arm and a large number of deep, long cuts on their torso.

XXX

As she'd hoped and expected, the second she was out of the patching up room, sporting a new cast and a couple dozen stitches, her vision was assailed by blue as Sonic crowded her bedside on his own, virtually frantic as he saw what had happened,

"Mighty, Christ are you...?"

"Sonic…" The blue hedgehog carried on, slamming fist into palm as his eyes blazed,

"I'm going to hunt that tin foil coke can down and shear every circuit in his body; no-one gets away with this…"

"Sonic, I need…"

"How long will you be here", Mighty's patience hit its end just as Shadow and Amy appeared in the ward entrance and Sonic carried on speaking, "they said it'd be a few days, but will you…?"

"Sonic, shut up!" Might had to keep her voice low because of the other occupants of the ward, but her steely growl choked off the rest of the desperate hedgehog's questions. Beckoning them all in, the armadillo began,

"Listen, I'm going to be all right; Metal did a number on me but I'll survive; I've just got to make sure Big does as well".

"Big", Amy looked around as though expecting the cat to pop out the nearest bed locker, "he's here too?"

"Yeah, but listen, I need you to do something, one of you", she pointed at Sonic and Shadow; both shared a glance, then leaned in as Mighty whispered something – when they came away, there was an expression that could only be described as disbelief on both the blue and black faces,

"Mighty", it was Shadow who recovered his tongue first, "surely that can wait until tomorrow".

"No it can't; there's a life", she cut off, shutting her eyes for a second before taking a breath and carrying on, more calmly now, "no, that's wrong; there's a mind at stake here, a beautiful mind that just need to see something. If you go now, there's still time – visiting time's until eight".

"But how are we going to get them here?"

"Use a knife if you have to; there's nothing more important that this now; believe me if you're late you better pray I don't cop hold of you both, broken arm or none. Now move!"

XXX

Tails was tinkering in the garage, just reaching for the combination tool Sonic had brought him for Christmas and flicking out the screwdriver attachment when something yanked hard on the duckboard he was laying on, shooting him out into the sudden brightness of his workshop. Squinting up, he had a greeting to give,

"Hi guys; to what do I owe the pleasure?"

"Is the Tornado ready to fly?"

"Umm, yeah, it's ready, I just refuelled after this morning". Sonic nodded,

"Good, then get strapped in", the blue hedgehog answered his brother's look of confusion with a hand on the shoulder and a proclamation, "we've got a cargo to get, and the clock's ticking".

A/N: this chapter was written for anyone who's ever felt that angry, ever been that mad; it's a terrible feeling when it goes away and you have to pick up the pieces. But what would happen if you could never forget, that moment of regret was with you forever – can Mighty help Big to deal with these years of lamented brooding on his one previous mistake?