Hello everyone. Sorry for the long period of inaction. Been rather busy as of late. But good news, a new chapter.

I tried my best to describe Shadow's feelings and outwardly mood in this. I told a of what I was doing with him and St. John and he said it could never work. He was plesently surprised after he read this.

Disclaimer: I own nothing of the Sonic characters.

Enjoy.

Nocturne Conversations

By: Mauser

Those red, hard eyes could put the fear into anyone. Even for Commander Geoffrey St. John of His Majesty's Secret Service. But he held calmness all the while holding his turning stomach at bay, plus doing an impressive job at keeping the same deadpan face as Shadow the Hedgehog. It was one thing to see the Ultimate Life Form run practically unchallenged around Mobius at Eggman's leisure, battle Aleutian–which to Geoffrey didn't seem much of a fight due in part to the echidna's physical state–and in particular able to wield powers that his crossbow absolutely had no chance to match. But knowing all this while that same hedgehog sat no more than three feet in front of him, and only separated by a cluttered desk was very unnerving for St. John. With a sigh at the walnut boarded walls, and letting the chairs have their last creaks in the silent, heavy air, St. John finally began:

"So you managed to come after all?"

Shadow's face never flinched from its deadpan pose, keeping his arms closed. It told St. John right off that he wasn't really in the mood to talk."So why's he even here at all?"

"I try to keep to my word," the black hedgehog answered back at last in a dead monotone.

"Well, that's jolly good of 'yea," the skunk said with a semblance of a smile, "at least we're making progress there."

A snort and a slouching shift in his chair. "If you say so."

What smile St. John had, died. Turning to his paper work, he searched for a clean sheet and took a pen from a coffee mug that sat next to a picture of a beautiful black cat with her white chest covered under a red vest, her light green eyes casting a salacious glimmer all the while her nonchalant smile soothed his weary mind. St. John tried his hardest to not make the office an established residency, but alas, the last blue glow of the sun leaving the waving slits of Knothole City's forest canopy darkened his window and his mood. A banker's lamp radiated from the center of his desk, making the wooden walls feel a bit more dingy. "Sorry Hershey, luv, I'll be late tonight."

"Alright, Shadow," Geoffrey continued on, his pen at the ready, "let's start out with your last ordered task with Eggman. Where were you and what were you doing before A.D.A.M. sent the false message for you to get back to New Robotropolis?"

A short pause. "I thought you would ask for something better?"

"Everything that you tell me will be crucial to what goes on here–just one step at a time."

"What I was getting at was the Eggfleet or his new production strength–"

"I can get those just by satellite feeds, mate!" St. John snapped.

Shadow bled a treacherous smirk. "Or your hidden operatives around Mobius?"

St. John kept his face even, however, the sentient spy within him was cursing and blaspheming almost uncontrollably. He honestly knew he didn't have to hide it. Shadow's comment was a well planned trump card, one that St. John figured would have come out sooner or later. But still, he viewed people in and around Knothole City as two types; cleared or not cleared. Shadow, for obvious reasons that didn't take an average civilian to figure out, was on the latter of the lists.

Which made the skunk all the more worried and suspicious with what the black hedgehog knew.

"How many do you know?" he finally asked, shifting his pen around nervously in his fingers.

Shadow relaxed his posture. "Enough to tell you that you might want to start bringing some in."

St. John made a priority mental note to come back to that, stomached his professional anxiety, and continued on; "What was your last mission with Eggman?"

"What's so important about it?" Shadow retorted dryly.

"Because, I would like to know why Aleutian was hunting you?" St. John said, leaning forward, further in his chair.

"Oh...him," scoffed the hedgehog, "that would have been one dead echidna if Knuckles hadn't stopped him–"

"And if you'd met the chap sooner, you would've been one dead hedgehog!"

Shadow let it go at that. Cocking his head slightly to release the imaginary strain in his neck, his expression fell back into one of not caring. "So what do you want to know?"

"Where were you and what were you doing before the transmission from A.D.A.M?"

"I was searching for Mammoth Mogul and Ixis Naugus," Shadow replied hesitantly. "I didn't get far, though, so what information I can give you is meaningless."

Geoffrey shifted in the chair, his beret off his head for once, fully exposing his wavy hair. "But they have escaped the Egg Grapes?"

"Yes." Shadow said, hidding his impatience as the Commander scribbled his notes. When a tap of the pen symbolized a period was marked, the hedgehog lifted his chin up as if a fighter was ready for the beat down.

"Let's talk about the underground," Geoffrey said in a firm, but tired voice.

"Yeah...you all are losing–"

"That'sNOT what I meant!" jumped St. John, stopping himself short from pounding the ball point pen on top of his desk. Interrogations–which this has now become–are tricky matters. They require patience as a chess player would need, along with a strategy. Geoffrey had been involved with enough to know to have a plan formulated even before he got the file of the subject he was about to interview. The chore could be simple or it could be so boring that one needed to slap themselves silly to stay awake. And they were doing the questioning. But in the end, the objective was always the same and always at the forefront: retrieve information that they have that you don't. Thinking back for an instant, he should've been the one interrogating Rogue rather than Knuckles and the Chaotix–though he had high admiration for Knuckles and Julie-Su, and a growing soft spot for his brother. However, the Bat is a spy and a thief wrapped up into one tight figure. She knows the rules, the tricks of the trade, and possibly has experienced more than one questioning from other interesting figures in the spy rings. But with time, St. John and possibly with some help from his wife, Hershey, Rogue would've broken and devulged more information than what Knuckles could've retrieved. Everyone breaks; that was the unwritten rule.

Which brings Shadow. A smug smile came and went from his expressionless face and at once, St. John knew this was going to be one of those hard cases–in more ways than one. The information was there, willing to be released...willing, but that brief smile just made the evening longer. "The bloke is getting his kicks out of this at MY expense!"

"The underground, Shadow. Aleutian informed us that he was hunting you through the underground movement using Ebony Hare as a contact and leverage to get to you. I can see the motive, but I am very interested in what your operations consisted of while working for Eggman. Were you a laundry boy, a meet and greeter, or...?" St. John shrugged his shoulders and hands as a come-on for the hedgehog.

"Muscle," Shadow said after a moments calculated pause, "sometimes I had to knock some heads around to get what I needed."

"What do you mean your needs? What about Eggman's? He was pulling your strings the whole time...right?"

Shadow shrugged his shoulders that expressed the same movement from his quills. "Yea, so?"

St. John pressed forward against his desk, but never leaning too far to give the black hedgehog a sense of some spatial comfort. "So it didn't bother you?" he asked very inquisitively, holding his questioning brows up. "I mean, you were being used with your very history as a taunting bait so Eggman could make you do his bidding." St. John let his sentence hang as a light bulb clicked on in his head. "Or was that your needs?"

A shrug of the shoulders before Shadow crossed his arms over his white furred chest sealed the deal. St. John had struck a nerve that now furthered his progress. On the other hand, he was about to question the hedgehog's loyalty, for his motives for choosing sides seemed to shift with the wind, but the way those red eye's of his broke away from St. John's, darted slightly to the right, and briefly scoured the walls before staring back at him, told something else entirely that St. John was rather surprised to see. Self-guilt. He could clearly see that Shadow was inwardly loathing of being used. But he couldn't understand why the game? Was it his way, or was he sizing up Geoffrey? Or was it what the skunk thought all along; just for kicks? He honestly didn't know at that moment. All he could do was ask and wait for the true replies in the hedgehog's body language.

"Mustn't felt good to be taken for a ride, eh?" he sneered, playing his English accent a little rougher for a wanting response. It worked to his satisfaction.

"I knew what I was getting into," Shadow replied a little annoyed.

"But how long were you willing to take it? I mean, the abuse and frustrations of not seeing any results must've driven you mad, mate. That chaos business wasn't really the turning point, was it? Knocking heads around, and all...you had to feel you were above that, right?"

"I didn't care," came the rude answer.

"Rubbish–you had to. After all, you have chaos control. Just being an errand-boy with that power must've been trivial, at best."

"And if it was?"

"And if it was, then why keep being Eggman's puppet for as along as you did?"

Shadow's arms relaxed across his white furred chest, St. John at the ready with his scribing device. "I had no other choice. He had the disk, you all didn't, so I went with him."

"So does that mean we can count on you turning your back on us when our use runs out with you?"

"Possibly."

"Liar." St. John scoffed in the air. "That look said otherwise."

"So, who were these blokes you were muscling? Anyone in particular you can remember?"

"No, not really."

"Why?"

Shadow shrugged once more. "Was none of my businessafterwards. They didn't pay when they needed to, Eggman shows me a picture and some stupid codename, and I go after 'em. They paid up almost as soon as they saw me. I'm surprised some of them are actually doing what they're doing."

St. John furnished a disarming smirk. "Skiddish, I take it?"

"If you call it that," Shadow said, nodding slightly.

St. John lifted his pen and jotted down the brief summary before raising his head and continued on. "Locations by chance?"

"All over. Some of the bigger pay-ups were in Station Square. Those people can be ruthless, so watch your tail."

Geoffrey nodded as he wrote. Setting down his pen after a few short handed notes, he pondered briefly if he should choose a different avenue of questioning. He honestly at this point didn't know if Shadow was purposely withholding information, or yet again, playing games. "Course, he could be telling the truth too," he added to himself. Shadow's guilt laden glance played back in St. John's mind. He couldn't ignore it for one reason or another.

"Where is this money going to, and why does he even need it? That's something I really don't understand since most of his resources come from his conquests."

Shadow's glance was expected, asking if the skunk had any intelligence. "I'd figure it be obvious to you!"

"It is, but keep talking, chap!" St. John scoffed to himself, cocking his head as if he was wanting to be educated.

Shadow continued on, fidgeting in his chair in annoyance. "Pay-offs to his spies and goons. Why do you think it's called the–"

"Have you met any of those blokes?" Geoffrey cut-in calmly.

"Not that I know of."

"Okay, so let me get this straight. You've gone around Mobius, clunking heads of sorts, made sure pay-offs were given to Eggman, but when it comes down to his spies and goons, you're left in the dark? But, you see Shadow," St. John snidely launched, "he gives some metal hedgehogs that look just like Sonic, and sends them and you to Knothole to ruff up the place. I feel like I've missed out on something, you know?"

"Like what!?" Shadow hotly replied.

Geoffrey held his exaggerated bemusing face all the while smiling deviously inward. "Well...why all the roughing up jobs? Why not use your abilities instead of collecting money and powerless enemies?" he said, referring to Mogul and Ixis Naugus. Their true powerful-selves were nothing more than a new goal in their lives to reconquer.

It was here that Shadow lay silent, tucking his arms across his chest once more and digging his chin down almost at the same spot. He looked like a pouty kid all of a sudden to Geoffrey, just meaner with those drawn red eyes and black quills. The answer was in this posture this time; he'd been used and now his brain had fully come to grips with it. St. John got Shadow to where he needed him; mad and looking for vengeance to grind his teeth on.

"Okay, what about this Egg Fleet?" he asked finally, retreating back into a semblance of a slouch in the chair.

"What about it? You said you can get satellite feeds," Shadow retorted, matching St. John's posture.

"How about his plans for it? Is he ahead of schedule, behind, his production plans overall?...you've had to 've seen something?"

A slight shake of the head brought more frustrations to St. John. "He's hammering them out as fast as his machines can manage. But plans, I don't know."

"Rubbish! You were there. You had access to his computers--"

"It was limited!"

"Anything as a glance you can remember then?"

Shadow held a pregnant pause before he shook his head. "Eggman kept me out of the loop for reasons that are obvious."

"Tell me anyways."

"Well, he doesn't trust Mobians, and he sure didn't trust me, and I knew it...I knew it from the beginning. Why do you think he sent me out so much?...to keep me away and do brainless jobs. I'm sure he planned for me to switch sides..." A devious smile formed across his lips, "but Snively's hair wasn't part of the plan."

"Then why did they track you here with his follicles? Seems like they had you in the bag."

"No...the runt just has an attachment to his hair," Shadow quipped, sporting a chuckle all the same. St. John was about to join in until the hedgehog's smile abruptly ended, his face eerily serious all of a sudden. "Him, I can tell you about."

"Oh? What about Snively?"

"He's no fool, and if I were you, I'd watch him more closely than the fat-man."

"How so? I know he hates being a lackey at times, and he switches sides as well as you."

St. John's remark didn't produce anything of show of bitterness. "That mind of his is going all the time, and he shows no restraint in force, as you've seen. Consider it a feeling that he has something always up his sleeves."

"Did you take any orders from him?"

"No. Eggman handled me, mostly. I kept away from Snively unless I had to."

St. John annotated the information down and said, "How's his mood been when Eggman is not around?"

"Angry you might say, but he seems calm about it."

Geoffrey wearily nodded his head. "He's thinking...being a lackey and thinking is very dangerous." Placing his pen down, he looked out the window and frowned. Between the hot air that was being passed around, and his rump aching from the chair, St. John stood up and waved his hand to the door. "Let's take a breather, mate."

The journey to the door and out to the raised, wooden walkway was a relief. St. John could only smile as he leaned on the railing with his arms and took in Knothole as one might look a bustling city from a roof top. His office was tucked into one of the larger trees, and sat high, close to the branches. Brief outings from his desk were taken liberally, since some of his operational work had slowed, and the fresh air was more than enough to soothe his eyes and mind from the reports he had to pour over daily. Shadow on the other hand, stood like he always has: arms to his sides, and expressionless. Geoffrey wondered if the hedgehog ever knew how to relax.

"So now that you know whoyou are, what are you going to do now?" he asked sincerely. He noticed the question threw Shadow totally off just by the way he looked at him.

"I don't know...I have some questions that I need to go search the answers for."

"Purpose?"

A cocked head and a shrug face. "You can say that."

St. John turned his attentive gaze back at the wooden city below them. Sighing he said, "Wish you'd remember something, Shadow. A code name, operation, troop strengths, what Eggman has for breakfast...shoot, a love letter could be a big help to us right now. The man hates us and wants us all dead. Even you, I'm afraid. It's nothing personal, you know, but he just doesn't like us Mobians. Your use to him would have run out. He probably would have showed you Gerald's disk and probably stuck you in one of his Egg Grapes and sucked you dry as payment. I hope you see where I'm coming from with this?" St. John took in a deep breath. "Anything you can possibly remember could help us dearly. Consider it as...retribution for what he has done to you."

Shadow said nothing for a brief moment, only staring down at his own spot in thought. A few Mobians were making their way back to their huts and nooks, all finding closure from the day and preparing for the next in their own unique way.

"I didn't pay hardly any attention to his inner workings. I knew he was going to hide things from me, so I just took it as that and went on doing what he asked of me. I only had one thing on my mind–"

"I can understand that, mate."

"Do you?" Shadow questioned with his brows risen. "Becoming awake in a different time almost seems like a different world...a different life. I have no allegiance, Geoffrey, cause those who made me and loved me are gone. I'm almost having to start all over again, and I don't know where to begin. Eggman is something as close to a family as I have...and I was used by him. So, do you think you can understand me? Do you really know what I am going through?"

St. John was taken aback for an instant. He tried to put himself in Shadow's shoes, however, he realized that the hedgehog was right, he really didn't understand. "But I think Knuckles' brother might." He withheld his remorseful face at the thought of Aleutian. Everyone had to have heard the Guardian's death wish from yesterday, and it troubled St. John the most.

"No, mate," he finally said, "I don't. But maybe you can understand us?"

Shadow lay silent once more with gears turning in his head as he fought to remember things. His indifferent pose collapsed on the railing, holding himself up with his arms the same way St. John was. He'd found himself on occasion venturing away from his tempered conscious as he felt he was doing now, giving into a subliminal temptation of sadness that only lasted for a few moments, seeking it as a refuge from his turbulent self before either going to sleep or going before Eggman for his next useless assignment. Yes. He remembered finding himself in that train of self-expulsion, wondering if everything he had been doing was a waste of time as he stared long and hard at Eggman's backside. He felt the compulsion to kill him right then and there. The fat-man with his grossly long mustache and bulk torso were nothing more than a sitting target to Shadow, just standing there and studying a large screen with his hand under his nose. He would've never known Shadow was behind him until the black hedgehog shouted "Chaos Control" and zapped his blubber-butt to the next world. But he stopped himself cold when the thought of his reward and hoping the next outing would bring halted his action. Shadow could see where he was possibly going just from the story and a half tall screen. He'd been around Mobius long enough that his geography of the planet was almost permanently etched into his brain, and so much so that a blinking dot somewhere near the Badlands ruled out his next assignment at that moment. Maybe that was why he was thinking of doing Eggman in. Maybe that was why he felt degrading at that instant, seeing his puppet master staring at that blinking dot for what seemed like a life time before turning around. He almost seemed hypnotized by it.

Like it was speaking to him...

"There is something," he said evenly, his bold, expressionless face coming back. "I caught a glimpse of his operations board one day. I didn't think nothing of it, but he was locked with something on it."

"What was it? Do you remember?" St. John asked calmly, but eager.

Shadow shrugged. "I don't remember. It was something big, I can tell you that much."

"Oh?"

"Yea, he switched it off in a hurry...probably didn't want me to see it."

"Has he left it up before while you were present?" asked St. John, his stare narrowing in puzzlement.

"Yea, but this wasn't the first time...I just caught him napping on that one."

St. John curtly nodded. "Can you remember where it was if I showed you a map?"

"I think so. Someplace in the Badlands."

Another nod. "Okay, tell you what Shadow. Sleep on it and come back to me tomorrow and hopefully you might have a better picture of things. Sound good?"

Shadow solemnly bowed his head. "Yeah."

"Alright."

St. John watched the hedgehog twitch his head one last time before he took his leave. He didn't let him get more than a few paces when he called out one last time. "Oh, and Shadow."

The hedgehog stopped and peered over his shoulder. "Yeah?" he said evenly.

With a comforting smile, St. John expressed something that he was sure Shadow had never heard.

"Thank-you."

It wasn't long before St. John ducked back into his office, pulled up his typewriter that had seen better paper over the years, and hammered away at the keys, transcribing his notes and then typing up an observation order that was sure to go to the Brain Trust and Nicole. Shadow didn't pinpoint the location, but the Badlands wasn't a very easy place to hid something man or Mobian made. If he'd hurry, he might get the order done so a night pass-over could be completed and use the inferred to its fullest. That and see–

"Hey, Geoffrey!"

Hershey's cool, but demanding voice startled him in the most peculiar way. He didn't snap-to from muscle memory or reflexes, but instead, looked up from his work with a guilty expression. Her left shoulder was leaned up against the door frame, all the while her eyes beaming a scathing look at Commander Geoffrey St. John, who now felt no tinier than a flee. "Hello, 'luv. Bit busy but I 'shaln't be long."

To his satisfaction, she relaxed right down to an easy stance. That was something he truly loved about her. "Something going on?"

A weary shake of the head. "Everything, Hershey."

"Well, it must be something good to keep you away again. Please tell me you're not going to establish residency here?"

"No, 'luv...that I intend not to do." He sighed at his almost completed work and looked back up to Hershey. "Anything from our trio out in the plains?"

Hershey shook her head over her red handkerchief. "Nothing."

"Well, I might have some good news hopefully come morning. Shadow said something about a dot marking something in the Badlands. That last message that was sent this morning went to that direction. Could be something, could be nothing."

"Well, there hasn't been anymore since, and Uncle Chuck and Rotor have called it a night. It's not looking good."

"It's never good when it comes to something like this, Hershey. I just...can't put my finger on why use a new encryption and still use the other. It doesn't make since."

Hershey shrugged her shoulders in sympathy. "I don't know what to tell you."

St. John frowned in frustration and lowered his head back to his typewriter. Three sentences later, he was done. Pulling the sheet out, he grabbed his beret and pulled the chain to shut the light off, and made his way to Hershey at the door, waiting for him. He looked tired; felt it. The dark room kindling his mind to sleep. Taking Hershey under the arm, he lead her outside, closed the door and proceeded to lock it. Another day uselessly spent in a shack and another to come, he thought. Such is intelligence and war at times.

And there his mind went to a certain General, his brother, and Tails.

"Any word from the Prowers?"

Space had shown no mercy to his mind. For thirteen long years, Amadeus' mind misplaced the sound and the lavish melody of a piano. The music was served almost like fine wine at the dinner table, taking in the flowing pieces with sips from the silences of the conversations. At times, he struggled not to tear-up in front of Darien, his wife Heather, and their young daughter Amber, all the while holding his pride for his son. The soft strikes of the keys meant that much to him.

As night fell, the conversations died as fast as the food was consumed. Topics that would've seemed trivial from the ongoing conflict actually helped pass the estranged afternoon. Some pasts were revealed while other points stretched from gardening to alien beings on other planets. Merlin on the other hand didn't partake in any of the dinner talks, instead, he just sat idly with his mind further from reality it seemed. Amadeus could see that something had scared him...and his brother was hardly ever scared. Nonetheless, a feeling of comfort sprang from the dinner table to Amadeus, one that he was glad to feel, only wishing Rosemary was with him to enjoy it.

Coming from the hall, Amadeus entered the livingroom and found Darien sitting in a love seat, and staring at a glass in his uninjured hand. He swirled the clear liquid around as if thinking he wanted to take another drink. Amadeus already knew what it was, he could smell it quite easily. "Looking for a liver replacement with that diesel?"

Darien snorted then took an easy sip from the glass. "You know...I–I didn't start drinking until you came along. You just had to come and–and make my life complicated...again."

"So, I have resorted to you to drinking? What is that–Overlander ale?"

Resting the glass, still clutched in his hands on the armrest, Darien let a sheepish smile come across his face. "Yes, my father's old bottle before the war. Before the exodus. And his father's before him. We only–only drink it on special occasions...and, ahh, you happened to be it, Prower."

Amadeus inched his way to the sofa that was in front of Darien, holding back the complaint he wanted to grill Darien with. The Overlander was visibly intoxicated. Even under the low light of the lamp beside him, Amadeus could see the nystagmus in the Overlander's sagging eyes. "Why me...I haven't opened up old wounds from the past. It's done, said, and over–"

A curt wave of his injured hand, wrapped tightly by a white bandage. "Bah...I don't give two squeezes about that. You won and we left. Left me behind in the processes cause I was–too slow to get back. You wouldn't believe how much a girl can hold you back–"

"And you speak like that about your wife?" Amadeus interrupted gingerly.

Darien cocked his head in an intriguing way. "I see your point, but hear mine: I was left behind and happened to be around for the coupe thanks to it. If I hadn't gone for her and to get her out, I could've been out in space and resting comfortably and not fighting a second war that very few of us Overlander's saw no need to fight. They saw Julian's oppression as just rewards for you crushing us, Amadeus. I–I saw it as enslavement in the long run. And to hear of children and kids, like your son, fighting for their lives and freedom–and ours if you look at it–I couldn't believe that myfellow Homo sapiens didn't see this, and take a blind eye about it!"

Amadeus rounded the sofa and sat down, his expression leaning towards curiosity. "So what did you do to fight Julian? You had no army–"

"I tended to your's...the ones you sent to the East Coast to fight us at sea. You should have seen Mathias' face when I told him that we almost came and annihilated his little house and sank his boat. Real close, Amadeus. But you all won, and they were saved, and it was a damn miracle that they were. You see, us few who saw Julian–whatever he called himself afterwards–we helped as much as we could with the resistence. We weren't many, but we helped. I saw to Mathias' crew and their families's health. Other's supplied him with parts to make his torpedoes and gave him any leftover fuel we had. In kind, Drake protected our shores every now-and-then, while sinking bulk shipments that Julian Kintobor plundered from the places he took over." Darien took another sip from his short, elegantly etched glass before asking, "You were robotsized right?"

Amadeus' head sunk to the brass buttons of his uniform. "Yes, I was. The day my son was born...I would have loved to have ran my saber into Julian's fat-gut for that."

Laughter filtered in from the hallway, beckoning Amadeus to lift his head and glance over the sofa. Amber had a sweet, childish laugh about her that calmed him from his past nightmares. After a moment he heard his son's voice joining in. And there, he smiled.

The little girl was captivated as she sat and watched her two toy spaceships whirling around the room without her hands acting out the battle. Tails didn't understand wether he was laughing at the two toys chasing each other through the cluttered room, or at Amber. He was sure she had never seen magic used like this before, or even at all for that matter. Her widen eyes of joy and wonder made it evident, having shed the warrior mask as he first saw her wear and bringing her back to the plane of a little girl.

Merlin himself couldn't be more happy at Amber's expression, sometimes joining in the fray of laughter as he maneuvered his hands as if they were the controls of the two ships; one wide and streamlined, taking the appearance of a duck's bill, however extending two long prongs on each swept-back wing that made for weapons, and the other ship a crudely modeled Hoverbot. The hooded fox's eyes twinkled as he manipulated the dog fight, letting the Hoverbot become the prey while Amber's ship looked as if it was getting the slip from it. Bringing the chase higher up, Merlin mangled the Hoverbot through the blades of the ceiling fan that was turning at a steady speed, only letting the streamlined ship take a higher avenue before apexing and diving down after its quarry. To Amber's amazement her ship actually fired at the Hoverbot that was looking to escape between her and Tails. Streams of purple light pulsated from the ship's cannons and caught the Hoverbot. And there, Merlin worked another spellbinding trick as he simulated the lasers eating away at the Hoverbot's hull, giving Amber a fiery finale' before crashing the Hoverbot into the floor.

"Cool!" she laughingly praised.

Merlin couldn't help himself not to laugh, playing a victory roll with the surviving toy before landing it on top of a bookcase just to his right. "Hail the Mighty Amber, slayer of all Robotnick's robots!"

Amber cheered while simultaneously turning and facing Tails with a smile. "So what can youdo?" she asked him tauntingly.

"Well," he began hesitantly, "I can fly."

"Really!?"

"Yea," Tails replied with a wide face, "I whirl my tails around like a helicopter and I can go pretty far up. Usually, my buddy Sonic needs me to fly him someplace if he can't climb or whatever."

Amber rolled her eyes and Tails could see what was coming. "Is that why they call you Tails?"

"Duh!" he scoffed, shooting his uncle a glance that received a smile in return. "I'm also a pretty good pilot too...an't that right uncle?"

Amber never gave Merlin a chance to reply. "I don't know about that. You look kinda young to fly machines. Besides, there's always someone out there better than you are."

"Who says!?" festered Tails.

"My daddy...that's what he always tells me."

Merlin clasped his hands inside his sleeves. "Your father's wise. No matter how prepared you are, you may find an adversary that is stronger, faster, and more cunning than you."

"Uh huh, and you know what?...sometimes that person may also be your friend..."

"You think those two will be fine together?" Darien asked, his hand shaking from the effects of the ale as he poured more into his glass from a elegant looking bottle, its color surprisingly still flush. "I mean, they're not going to get into fight or anything?"

"Miles behaves himself pretty well. I think they'll gain insight from one another, really. After all, Amber kept referring to us as Furies–"

"She did?" Darien said sternly just before he took another sip. "I tried to...ah–stop her from saying that...but my mouth and my wife's sometimes get in the way of raising her. Y'all have made some pretty dumb decisions as of late. Especially that truce with Eggman."

"From my understanding that was with Sonic, not the Kingdom–"

"And the King should have seen it comin--"

Darien suddenly stopped himself cold. Amadeus watched carefully as the Overlander perched his lips shut and took held a distant stare at the far wall, as if searching it for his next line of thought. From there, anguish mixed with pity slowly traced upon his rounded face.

"Time for bed, Amber," annouced Heather from behind Merlin, "you've been staying up way to late for the past couple of nights." She then looked down at Tails on the floor. "You don't mind sleeping on the top bunk, do you?"

"Not at all, ma'am. It beats the ground and the cockpit of a plane," he reminisced.

"Then up you go you two," she smiled, stepping past Merlin as Tails and Amber got up and crawled into their respective beds by the back wall. Heather tightened Amber's blankets snugly and searched for a stuffed teddy bear that the little girl had named Pal. Lastly came the gentle kiss on the forehead and a playful tickle of love before Heather rose up and walked to the doorway where Merlin waited with a warm smile across his face.

"Night, Miles," he said.

"Night, uncle."

Heather flipped the switch and the room went crisply black before a blue nightlight began the journey's glow throughout the night. "Don't talk too much...we have a big day tomorrow." Turning her gentle smile to Merlin, she said, "we have a spare room down the hall for you and Amadeus."

"Thank you. I am most anxious to sleep after today," replied the fox cordially, only shifting his eyes away from Heather for a moment to see his brother's head nodding in understanding from the apparent soft spoken words of the Overlander.

"...yesterday, my wife says to me that we should leave here...leave all of this and go back to our old home."

Amadeus nodded and leaned forward, supporting his arms across his legs. "I don't see why not. What were you thinking when you brought them here, and this close to Eggman?"

"Why I'm drinking tonight of nights, Prower," Darien retorted snidely. "If you were in my boots, you'd do the same."

Amadeus jolted his head back as if he were slapped in the face. It was the first time that night that Darien had become defensive. "On the contrary–"

The Overlander carefully balanced his glass as he pointed squarely at Amadeus uniform from across the void. "No...you would, trust me. With what I have charged myself with and–and with what I have to show you, I–I bet you your good eye you'd drink."

Shifting himself back in the sofa, Amadeus was on the verge of protesting once more when Darien abruptly stood up from the love seat, glass still in hand. "There was a king once. None of our history that I know of, but there was a king once, Amadeus. And a defeated one at that," he pointed once more as he paced back and forth in front Amadeus. The spirit was taking hold of his motor-skills, his stance wobbly with every stride, and his speech sloppy and slurred. "This king, a human if I remember, was...ah–sentenced to be executed by the conquering clan, or monarch, however you want to call them. Anyhow, they posed him in front of his generals, soldiers, and of course, his conquered people. One of those...message deals I'm sure you're aware of." Amadeus nodded and said nothing. "Well, just before the conquering king rammed the other king's sword through him, a mere soldier came running up through the crowd, screaming at the top of his lungs to stop the execution. I think he was even crying. Well...the guards stop him and almost slain him, but he stops them. You know how?"

"No," Amadeus confessed.

"He cries out to his king that he has forsaken him...that he was the reason for defeat and that he should fall upon the sword before his sire does."

The one eyed fox held an inquisitive look. "Why? Why doesn't he rescue his king?"

Darien took another pull and waved his glass afterwards as if it were a conductor's wand to an orchestra. "Because he says, 'I have forsaken you for I held my tongue. I knew of their armies plans and I knew of how they were to strike, but I held my tongue and my duty to fight for fear of my life.' That...that was why he wanted to fall upon the sword, and in front of his king and subjects. He did to nothing to save his own people and his king." Darien took an uneasy step forward and posed in front of Amadeus, still using his glass as an assist to his story. "And you know what the king did to him, Amadeus?"

Amadeus shook his head in a puzzled way. "No, Darien," he replied softly.

"The king pardoned him, Amadeus. He pardoned the soldier that was responsible for his fall and death...leaving him to carry the burden of his people's suffering through the rest of his days."

He drank the glass dry this time, grimacing at what Amadeus could see was more at his own thoughts that plagued him than the rough drink. "I have forsaken, Amadeus. I, like that young soldier, have forsaken not a king, but of many lives...and yet I was pardoned by one just by his mere conscious."

A twitch of his right ear brought a sympathetic expression to Amadeus' face. "And who was the king, I might ask?"

Darien gazed inside his glass, peering at the last droplets of the amber liquid as if they were urging him to speak his haunted memories. Setting it down by the bottle on the night stand, he sighed. "A friend...the same friend who told me the story."

"Amber?" Tails quietly whispered, his hands clasped behind his head as he watched the shadows from the fan blades trace the ceiling. "You still awake?"

"Yes," she said.

"You said something about a monster...that he was real?"

An uneasy silence followed before Amber spoke, her voice calm, but somehow sounded scarred to a degree that nipped at Tails' mind. "He came during the worst storm the world had ever seen. They call it something–The Day of...I don't know..."

"The Day of Fury?" Tails replied, his voice raised out of surprise. He remembered that period very well. Not only did he and Sonic take a good hit of lightning while flying Winged Victory, but they also ended up helping Knuckles save a lost tribe of Echidnas just shortly after.

"Yea, that's it. He came that night. You know what monsters wear, Tails?"

He shook his head even though she wouldn't see it. "No. What do they wear?"

Another short period of silence. "This one wears a long black coat, and a huge hat. He has these hair strands that are thick...I don't even think that they are hair anyways. Well, not like mine." The description formed in Tails' mind as Amber continued, her calm voice slithering a troublesome fear across his skin as the dark figure slowly came to light. "He has this gun, Tails. It takes life without making a sound. I saw him about to use it on my daddy, but I stopped him just before he could shoot it."

"How?" Tails whispered eerily.

"I don't know. I just ask him what he was doing to my daddy...and he stopped and looked at me. He looked scarred...I never knew monsters could look scarred, Tails. And you know what else?"

"What," Tails whispered again, feeling his heart sink as he waited for the next haunting reply.

"His face bleeds."

Tails felt something seep into the pit of his stomach; sadness but yet, mixed with a troublesome fear he couldn't put his finger on. "It does!?" he swallowed, finding the aghast sensation still remaining.

"Uh-huh, and if he comes back, I sure will kill him before he tries to kill my dad."

Tails' eyes remained fixed to the ceiling, however, his vision gazing upon the scarred, lonely face of someone he now realized he knew. "Amber?" he whispered somberly.

"Yes, Tails."

He rolled over on his side and strained his sight at the open doorway. "Please don't kill him...he's my friend."

"...How is he, my–my old friend that is? Is he still wearing black?" Darien said, almost mournfully.

Amadeus straightened himself in the sofa and undid the brass buttons to his heavy tunic. "The time I saw him yesterday he wasn't wearing anything black. He has his gloves and a new pair of shoes from what I saw. His father, I can only hope is training him...really hope those two are bonding more than anything."

"So he is an Echidna Guardian?" Darien asked a bit dazed.

"Yes,"Amadeus replied, his brows raising. "His white crest should have been evident?"

Darien plummeted back in the love seat, his expression one of shock, figuring out a riddle it seemed. "Why, Emi-La?" he muttered, reaching blindly for the bottle once again, holding his trancing stare at the foot of the sofa.

"What?" came Amadeus, almost jumping out of his seat and fur, "you knew her?"

His soft gaze lifted up to the fox. "Those two were inseparable, Prower. I just don't understand why she didn't tell me about him then, instead of just what she thought about the company we unfortunately took."

"What do you mean?"

Darien sat the bottle back down and clasped his empty glass with both hands, stealing a glance at the floor before fixing his glazed eyes on Amadeus. "Emi-La told me that something was wrong, that things were being done to clean, she said. But she was unsure, and for the life of me, I don't understand why she told me to begin with. Aleutian trusted me, and I sometimes I wonder if that was why she trusted me more."

"Huh...why do you say that?"

Darien's stare turned eerily sad, as if Amadeus should have known the answer. "Didn't he tell you? Did Mathias tell you?"

A puzzled look stretched across the fox's shaking face. "Unfortunately I had to cast my old friend off to sea...never had a chance to speak with him. And Aleutian has laid silent with us for the most part. When he spoke of his past, tears usually followed."

Leaning forward, Darien pinched his lips and tried to swallow. "I...I had pronounced Emi-La pregnant."

"She was what!?" Amadeus snapped in a whisper.

"Yea, and she told me not to tell Aleutian about it." Darien softly replied, his gaze going back to the floor and saying nothing more.

Questions raced through Amadeus' mind faster than he could fathom them. Some answers were far removed while others wear so perplex he never bothered to trouble the Overlander with them. He saw Darien's face grow sad, searching for sympathy at what he'd done...at what he didn't do. "Pardoned by a king," he muttered in his psyche. It was the only feasible thing Amadeus could think, only wondering why Darien had to be pardoned before falling on his sword. By all means, he understood the reason for the pardoning, but he didn't understand why it almost came to that...Darien had his own life and family to worry about. From what Amadeus gathered, he cherished them more than suicide...

It came to him just as the last minor chord of a nocturne piano piece was played, the turn table falling silent, saved for the hisses and pops of the record. The thought frightened Amadeus but also saddened him all the same.

"You know, Darien," he said, his voice tranquil but sincere, "I think I might join you in finishing that bottle."

The most pleasure I had in this chapter was writing the conversation with Amadeus and Darien. The king bit came a little out of the blue but it fit perfectly with this. I hoped you enjoyed and keep coming back for more.