Icarus Part I

There's been so little time to write lately, but that has largely been due to circumstance. How can one describe the gnashing mouth of war when you're caught inside its jaws? At first, I found myself deliberately disregarding my diary, instead focusing on my duties as the defining voice of the Freedom Fighters, but in truth, that was a smokescreen for me not wanting to remember the mistakes of my past, and it hadn't taken long for me to forget about it in its entirety.

Reading through some of these earlier entries has been insightful, and I find myself once more inclined to put my thoughts down on paper.

In retrospect, I was acting a lot like a rebellious teenager. This doesn't surprise me really. I've needed to grow up very fast and very strangely. No, my behaviour doesn't surprise me, not in the least. What does is how much I've let self-loathing and impulse govern my decisions. I suppose I was young and still am, and I'm still so unsure of whom I am and whom I wanted to be.

In any case, I suppose it's best to start at the beginning. Less than eighteen hours after Elias had arrived, his men had set up the beginnings of a makeshift camp with a 15-foot high chain link fence topped with spirals of razor wire that surrounded the village. He claimed it was to keep wild animals and potential interlopers out, but I had already thought of about forty better ways to accomplish this besides razor wire and armed guards. Besides, they only fenced in about twelve acres, which was an inadequate amount of space for the numbers we already had, let alone the thousands that I knew would be streaming in soon.

In the end, I said nothing, since the trees were higher than the fence to begin with, and that was at the very least a transient comfort.

In many ways, I find that maintaining conflicts is easier than forging friendships. In those difficult weeks, friendship was all we had to offer. I was well-versed in the art of war: weighing losses against gains, assets against liabilities. Now I had to consider learning the art of diplomacy to nurture the precious relationship we established with our government in exile, and we needed all the help we could get because when news of the Great Forest as a safe haven broke through to the outside world, a steady flow of migrants started streaming in.

We were diligent, at first. As was our practice we kept detailed tallies, not just of the number of people, but of genders, ages, heights, weights and even province of origin. I knew it would be difficult to integrate them but I also knew that breaking down pre-existing social structures would breed resentment, as most of the new migrants tended to cluster together with people they already knew. This was something that helped to ease them and keep them from becoming unruly.

After a while, however, all talk of social engineering ceased when we started becoming overwhelmed to the point where we stopped taking any kind of detail in our censuses. Instead, we had one person assigned to tic off how many were arriving and even that turned out not to matter since groups of unauthorized migrants slipped in amid the obscuring multitude or found their way in over the fence in the dead of night.

Those weeks were quite difficult for Sonic and I as well. There was a lot of disagreement, a lot of shouting. He didn't -or refused to- understand why I couldn't 'chillax' now that we weren't actively fighting against Robotnik. I couldn't find the words to tell him how saddled down I was with new obligations and how uncertain our futures still were. It got violent sometimes. Lots of posturing, lots of arms and legs thrashed in rage. I slapped him once, but not hard, and not on purpose and I immediately apologised afterwards.

I felt helpless a lot of that time. Some days, I felt less like a leader and more like an extra hand to be coerced into signing treaties and documents for the advantage of the many puppeteers that now surrounded me.

Luckily, most groups were accommodating, save for one: the Overlander delegation, led by Abraham Tower.

About a week into the truce, a few Overlander helicopters landed in our rough and ready encampment, one of which contained the self-styled president of the United Federation government-in-exile and Commander in chief of G.U.N.

They claimed to come in the spirit of cooperation and to work out a treaty between our peoples against Robotnik, our mutual adversary, but I knew it was more a political gesture than a genuine attempt at reconciliation. Their delegation came with a low-ranking official by the name of Maria Kintobar (no relation, she assures me) and a few bodyguards whose sole purpose it seemed was to intimidate me.

By that point, I had gained some skill at negotiation. Elias had been kind enough to bring me law textbooks, political doctrines, manifestos, and all sorts of other rhetorical texts to kick-start my education. It was some of the most difficult crash course reading I've ever accomplished, but my skills with negotiation had improved considerably. Overlanders were difficult, manipulative and above-all driven by selfish personal agenda, but not all.

Abraham Tower expected only a smile and a signature, but Elias and I had very specific demands for them:

First, that a substantial portion of the Overlander scientific team would be wholly devoted to the endeavour of reversing the roboticization process on our people. Addendum to this was the suspension of Snively's sentence with an option for amnesty for good behaviour.

Second, that for the duration of the final battle their military would be subordinated to Elias and his council of war. They groused and grumbled at this prospect.

I called them "reparations" to settle the unpaid obligations owed to the Acorn Kingdom which his government had apparently inherited. They weren't happy about the demands, but they didn't walk away entirely. It was a waiting game and a test of who would crack first under the circumstances.

Elias called an emergency meeting the following day. The diplomatic situation, though not dire, was inching that way, and immediate action had to be taken to mend it.

They were upset, to say the least, and retired to their aircraft and left behind a gaggle of war correspondents to record the debacle of posterity sake. I felt those threatened, prey instincts exacerbated by the claustrophobia of flashbulbs and boom microphones and buzzing war correspondents flare up, so I decided to retire early to be with Tails without a final, private consultation.

By Elias's advice, I've decided to officially adopt Tails into the family. In retrospect, this may have been a mistake, for I spend most of my time working these days and hardly see him. I hate this. I hate this a lot. I've tried to bond with him; to earn the kind of trust only shared by parent and child, but he always pulls away. It's almost as if he's ashamed of acting like a child around me or being anything but a good citizen and follower around me.

This is made all the more apparent when I offer him a treat and he thinks it's some secret test of character. He stiffens when I chastise him for petty childish misbehaviour; he swallows back tears and laughter when I'm around. I make him feel uncomfortable. I make him feel stiff and unwelcome in our home. This realisation might have made life feel entirely unbearable to me save a chance discovery. Only one thing makes him act like my child when I'm around:

Thunderstorms.

This discovery couldn't come at a more opportune time, for a melancholic depression had manifested itself in the form of severe headaches that I could barely work through. Most private moments in a day were spent resisting the ever-increasing urge to break down into sobs.

The rain started early and I watched the storm growl and grow angry, I watched it whip the forest around. I felt Tails whimper as he nestled deep into my arms.

He begs me not to tell Sonic about this even as he watched the rain from beneath the canopy, the way it twisted and changed in every strobe of lightning. The wind howled, the boughs moaned and creaked with the weight of their shoots holding the oncoming downpour, and our entire domicile shook and swayed in the gusts of wind and rain.

Sally had seen a couple of bad thunderstorms before, but that paled in comparison compared to this. I sighed as a bolt of lightning illuminated the sky and grew despondent at imagining the clean-up this would require tomorrow.

I felt his gloved hand on my hip before I heard him. He was sobbing. "Mama," he whimpered as he grasped for more of my protective embrace. "Oh, Tails. Shush, come here, you're all right." I cooed as I turned, lifted, and pulled him to my front. He clung deeply to me, driving his wrist and knee into my skin, burying his face into my chest. I wrapped my arms tightly around him as he sobbed.

"It's all right," I assured him. "I won't let it hurt you. Shush, my love. It's not going to hurt you. I'm here. Nothing will hurt you as long as I'm here." I whispered to him with motherly gentleness.

I held him and hummed one of mother's lullabies till he fell into a calm slumber, and he did so before the rain stopped, and of course, I kept my promise.

For Sonic, it didn't even matter—once he was asleep, nothing would wake him, least of all torrential rain, high winds, or lightning and thunder. It didn't matter for me, either. I wouldn't sleep. The thunder and lightning had little to do with that. I just didn't sleep much at all anymore, but that night, with my little two-tailed kit sleeping in my arms, I finally got some of that rare comfort that gives one rest.

The both of us slept in till late morning, and by the time we arose, an army of pioneers were already hard at work restoring the damages from the storm.

"Aunt Sally?" Tails asked me.

"Yes, Tails?" I asked him in reply.

"Will you and Sonic get married just like Aunt Bunnie and Antoine?" He inquired in all of his innocence.

"I can't, not yet I -" I replied with a heavy sigh as I stumbled over my words.

"When can you?" He asked.

I shrugged "I don't know, Tails. I want us to be a family here permanently but—"

"I understand." He replied with a disappointed sigh.

"Don't do that," I begged him. "I'm sorry, Tails, but please, tell me you're angry if you're angry."

Tails looked down. " I know it's selfish but I just want you here," he said as he looked back up to me with his sky-blue eyes. "Aunt Bunnie doesn't think I know, but I do. People are going to get hurt and I can't be scared. I have to be strong "

"And I'll be strong for you," I assured him.

At this, Tails began to cry. "How can you be if you aren't here? You're never here," he said through his sobs.

I wracked my brain, turning away, then I looked up at him and smiled, "Walkie Talkies. The army gave us tons. You know how they work, right?"

"Yes, but—" He began to reply, his eyes still wet with tears.

"If you need anything at all, you can just call me. If you just need to be reassured. If you need to talk I can be here without being here." I explained to him.

"Aunt Sally—" He began to say.

"This is the best compromise I can offer, Tails. I can't be in two places at once, and I have to keep us all alive through this," I interrupted.

Tails breathed deeply and pursed his lips, he more used to accepting all of my poor compromises than he should be. "Okay."

I gave Tails a long, comforting kiss, told him he was the bravest person I knew, which felt a little condescending but it made him smile and made it so I could take off for work as the last of the summer fire collapsed into embers.

On the third day, however, the low-ranking official by the name of Maria Kintobar approached me.

"We understand that many of your people languish under the dreaded roboticization by Robotnik," Maria said. "We're willing to offer the best medical experts and scientists we can to help your people."

I refused their offer.

I accused them of manipulating my personal relationships. I think I called it bribery, or maybe emotional coercion. I got angry, much angrier than the advice in Overlander texts recommended. I informed them in no uncertain terms that conceptualizing me as a weak-willed, corruptible leader was a mistake. That I would not give in to temptation so easily and that manipulating me in such a base, unforgivable way was not the way I thought Overlander chivalry was supposed to work.

However, I would be lying to say if it didn't tempt me. It would mean giving Bunnie every possible chance of saving her limbs. It would mean genuinely being able to tell myself that I had done every possible thing to help her. Giving in to their terms would give me my most pressing, immediate desire, but it would most likely have unforeseen consequences later down the line when we're pressing ahead with the final battle and I think I will probably be dead before any of those horrible consequences I had imagined would come to pass, but that's not the leader I wanted to be.

I wept when I refused, but this was well after I got home. The abstract generosity and selflessness that I afforded my people meant nothing if I couldn't protect Sally's friends. My friends. All that mattered now was Bunnie, whom I betrayed, and for many heartwrenching moments after that, I felt that I had broken a promise, and neglected her needs over petty politics.

The Overlander delegation let me sweat for a day. Reporters hovered over a card table we had laid out for negotiations, holding boom microphones and making frantic calls to and fro from our two camps every quarter hour. For the better part of the day, the Overlander delegation stayed aboard their aircraft, keeping out of sight, doors closed.

When the treaty was finally signed by representatives from both sides. I did not let my relief cloud my strategic judgment. I insisted that a copy of the treaty be made a matter of public record, I pushed for every shred of transparency I could get, I was to receive daily summaries of the day's research programs and written testimonies from experts on the state of things.

We shared a private luncheon with the Overlanders complete with a whirlwind of introductions, perfumes, alcohol, and pungent animal-based foods. There was Sam Speed, a famous former race car driver turned ace fighter pilot and Chuck Thorndyke famous scientist and inventor. Our hosts were gracious enough to put out a table of acorns, but as with most well-meaning favours they do for us, it was dry and inedible. The rowdy patrons focused their gossip on me, which never does much good for my insecurities.

We did try to push our agenda of sharing military technology, but Abraham Tower did have more than his own fair share of detractors within his own camp and they vehemently denied our requests. I don't blame them, and it was probably a truth best learnt early.

It was just as I had assumed so long ago: their alliance with us was more out of an act of desperation. They doubted our capabilities to defeat our mutual enemies and wouldn't admit that they considered us potential future enemies once things were resolved.

I still don't blame them for passing judgement on us and like I said I still have a lot to learn, but that still doesn't mean I had to be happy about the whole situation.

That being said, as with so many things to bring the war to a conclusion, I had to fake understanding, to express forgiveness for mother's death at their hands prior to the Great War. I had to lie. I had to play the role of hard-pressed, Sally Acorn, tough-as-nails Freedom Fighter. I had to nod my head and say: 'Thanks for your generosity human, but please don't neglect our people' with markedly false courtesy.

The next day, I got the first real opportunity to speak with my brother.

I can't describe exactly how I felt around him. Starstruck. Charmed. Threatened. Some combination of the three, even though I knew Elias wasn't wholly trustworthy.

He'd gained a great deal of mythos since addressing my people as the direct and legal continuation of the Acorn government (never-mind the questionable legality of a government that hadn't set foot in a land they claimed to administer in nearly a decade).

I watched him silently as he mingled and glad-handed with my people. I noticed the way he glanced up at me every few minutes as though he were seeking my approval.

We shook hands on a couple of separate occasions, mostly for photo-ops. In the pictures, I seemed tired and browbeaten, but Elias gave off that great impression of easy comfort and charisma that made me feel comfortable around him. I knew Sally probably had millions of photos taken for her but those pictures are the only ones I don't hate looking at. I don't know if he's just incredibly good at his job, but Elias seemed sincerely glad to be standing with me, and I look half as stiff and guarded as I usually do.

That didn't ameliorate some of the troubling things he muttered to me before those pictures were taken. 'Hope your Freedom Fighters are up to snuff.' 'How is the supplies situation looking?' It was typical of political small talk. No offers of assistance, no sincere sympathy or insinuations of solidarity, just a sort of removed interest, like someone watching a trapeze artist cross a tightrope.

Apart from photos, that trip was the first time I actually got to speak to him in person.

The morning after the party, Elias invited me on board the Alicia for a private meeting. "Just pleasant company and no shop talk." He assured me. I didn't feel like I had much of a choice, so of course, I agreed. Hard to argue with the presence of a staff car complete with Acorn Kingdom flags that showed up at my doorstep.

Of course, there was someone waiting there who I had gotten very well acquainted with over these few weeks...

"Sally!?"

I smiled sheepishly. "Hi, sis."

Megan took a few moments to get herself back together. Once she did, she beamed widely, rushed out and practically squealed with joy at seeing me, wasting no time in hugging her sister-in-law beneath a loving embrace.

"Oh wow, you came. Your brother told me so much about you! But you must've got so much to say. Anything you want to tell me. Like when the two of you were kids? Off the record of course" Upon seeing my struggles to breathe, she quickly relaxed her grip. "Oh sorry, I bet you've got so much to share with us!" She apologized as I coughed and regained respiratory function.

After the awkward meeting, I sat down with the in-laws and kept things civil, if only for the sake of my baby-niece Alexis and the proud mother. It was only when little Alexis began wailing for her bottle and Megan had to excuse herself that Elias had the opportunity to level with me one-on-one in his private office.

I remembered sitting in that leather chair, folding my hands in my lap and avoided eye contact with him as he carefully sized me up, cradling his chin in his hand, slouching against his desk which crumpled his freshly pressed and starched uniform.

"You're big enough for the chair now, " he noted, taking me by surprise.

"So, you've noticed. It's been years, brother I've grown," I said, uncrossing my legs.

Elias rested his head on his hand before speaking: "I just don't know what to make of you," he finally said.

"Whatever do you mean?" I asked curiously.

"You're not quite the same ever since I've met you. Are you?" He asked.

I slumped a little. He was more insightful than I'd thought. I hate underestimating people.

"Are you planning on leading an uprising?" he asked.

I was a little shocked by his candidness, having expected a sprightly game of charades, but I felt my anxiety ebb. I was much better with open conflicts than with covert scheming.

"Not during your term as regent," I smiled reassuringly.

He smiled back. I relaxed. There was a sense of diffused tension, now that we honestly acknowledged each other as rightful antagonists.

"You know, when we got that message and travelled all the way down here that address was one of the hardest things I'd ever done as king-in-waiting, you know, " he remarked.

"You're practically the king now," I scoffed.

"Prince-Regent technically, but that's not my point. I'm not talking about the acclaim, which gets redundant rather fast. I'm talking about the solitude. The alienation. The knowledge that you're the only person with the power to make things right, and if you do it, you have to keep doing it. There is no finish line, no happily ever after. A hard decision is usually rewarded with an even harder one, ad infinitum," he explained with a heady sigh.

"I was a prince without a kingdom," Elias continued. "Yet, I brokered an alliance with the Echidnas. I led a campaign on the ground within the Feral Forrest where I met my wife. Great things happened during my regency. Heck, they used an emergency congressional vote to move up my post because of my experience. What if our cabinet decides to amend our constitution and expedite my coronation?"

"You deserve it, and you certainly don't strike me as an arrogant man," I replied.

"You think I've kept my position without being a little bit of wrangling? Come on. Not all of us are best friends with a 'Hero of Mobius'. Some of us actually have to campaign for it..." Elias paused, glanced to the side and let loose an audible sigh. "If only dad were here to see this through. I can't remember how he would have dealt with all this loneliness."

"Lonely," I repeated. "Even if you did remember, I doubt we would be any wiser. Dad usually kept his own counsel."

"Yes. I think we both are, aren't we?" He mentioned.

I felt a swell of emotion in my chest. Out of everyone who'd spoken with me, entered into debate with me, admired my bravery and strength he was the first to truly understand. It was all the more a pity that he would undoubtedly be a political opponent in the near future.

"Now on a practical note," Elias instructed me to hold out my hands and produced a pair of blue bands from his overcoat.

"What's this?" I asked.

"Try them on for size, my head scientist Dr Ellidy whipped them up from regular old power rings. He calls them 'ring-blades'." Elias said as he slipped the rings over my wrist. "Alright, now clench your fists together - impressed?" he asked as I observed dumbfounded at the approximately twenty-inch blade of solid blue light that suddenly appeared when I followed his instructions. "It's even your colour" he wryly noted before the blades faded away with another clench of my fists.

"Are you alright?" Elias asked again. It was then that I realised I hadn't responded for several minutes.

"So what?" I asked, "you want to be friends?"

"I don't know, Sally. We've been apart for years. And the odds of us reconciling aren't great" he said, reaching up and patting my shoulder. "Just know that you're not alone and just try to think of us as a family every once in a while, alright?"

On the way back home, I wondered if he had manipulated me. If his agenda was to make me feel comfortable and familiar so that I would be easier to pacify and use in the future. Elias was a smart man and a shrewder politician, but for that long walk home, I decided not to worry. I decide to let myself feel like I could be a part of some community, even if there was only enough room for two.