Chapter 23: Preparations

Sonic got off the phone with Knuckles at about 2 AM Lower Time Zone (LTZ). They had been planning the bachelor party that would go on tomorrow, and had successfully made reservations. That only took up an hour of their after-supper talk. The rest of it was just shooting the bull, as Sonic's last hours of bachelorhood slipped away from him like sand through fingers.

Seeing that Amy had long gone to bed, he prepared for himself a peanut butter and jelly sandwich to help him get to sleep. For him, the comforting taste of jam against bread against peanut butter softened the world almost as much as a cold beer. When he had finished his sandwich, he flopped down on the couch to watch some late-night television.

By three AM LTZ, he was tired of watching the bright colors of the late-night animés and tiptoed slowly down the hall to look into the twins' room.

Ame and Whisper shared a room, the two beds squished against the wall and a small dresser with a lamp stood sentry between them. The headboards of the two beds were up against the wall, and the twins could face each other while they slept. When Sonic peeked in, the lamp on the table was on, but the glow was soft and yellow. Both twins seemed asleep at first glance, each facing the other in gentle bliss. Sonic smiled sentimentally and looked upon the walls.

Ame's wall was a deep, rich purple where photographs, playing cards, and magazine cutouts danced higher up, and one could see this was the height of Ame when he stood up on his bed. His comforter, likewise, was the same dark purple, lined with white about the edges. He slept with his nose buried in the sheets, like Amy did, his eyes serenely closed. His side of the dresser consisted of a few picture books and comics stacked neatly on the one side of the lamp. His brown loafers sat at the very foot of his bed, for he slept in his socks. His gloves hung on a blue thumbtack over the dresser.

Sonic loved his son, but he wanted to look at Whisper's wall. Hers was blue and light green, painted in a wave design like the sea itself. Whisper's wall had the window right in the middle of it, the white curtains spilling onto the bed like overturned milk. On the other side of the window, a little higher up out of her own reach (so it seemed—it was higher up than the things on Ame's wall,) was a dark wood shelf. Upon that shelf was an ornate brown box, open. The inside was lined with glorious red taffeta. Inside, there seemed to be little trinkets. Peeking over the side was a tattered piece of dirty baby blue cloth and a small poseable doll made of plastic with a bald spot and a missing arm. Inside, Sonic guessed, were rocks and shells, and other smaller trinkets. She was like himself—a guilty souvenir collector. Sonic liked to play uncaring, but he did keep souvenirs. He had some from even his earliest adventures!

Upon her dresser lay a dress-up doll, the one she had received for her birthday, and the mechanical cat, off now, that she had received from Tails and Cream. He smiled.

Presently, he felt eyes perusing him. And he realized he had not taken a good look at Whisper in her bed. On the surface, she'd looked asleep.

But, when Sonic studied his daughter, he noticed that she was wide awake. Her eyes were intelligent as she studied him, like he was studying her. Her eyes were bright and intelligent, that natural spark of wisdom you might see in a young child's eye but not recognize fully until they become old enough to show it. It seemed to say: "Greetings, Father."

"I know you can talk!" Sonic teased her, reclining in the doorway. "You're smarter than your mother gives you credit for! I know you listen well to our conversations. You know a lot for a little girl."

Whisper sat up, cocking her head at him. She tried a push at his mind, but came up with images she felt were too private for her to see. Sonic felt the push, but didn't understand its source, which forced his mental blocks to become stronger.

"You're a souvenir collector, aren't you? Oh, don't give me that look. I am, too." He smiled, and Whisper smiled back, tossing her head a bit. "And soon, you'll have better souvenirs than an old doll." He walked to sit down on the bed beside her. Whisper moved a little so she could make room for her father. He was pulling up the cuff on his glove. Whisper's little fingers reached out, pausing in hesitation as a gray bracelet with ornate designs weaving around it and a small green gem atop it was revealed to her. "I never take it off," Sonic explained to his daughter, watching her wide-eyed expression as she gingerly reached to touch it.

When the little girl had touched it, an image jumped to the forefront, of a little reddish creature with fairy wings and wide, green eyes. It looked very cute to her, but felt powerful as well. She pulled away, only to see her father smile.

"Don't worry," sonic explained. "The gem is enchanted. His name was Chip. I--" Whisper was amazed, watching her father shed a single tear. "He—he saved my life. It was…a long time ago, but…" Whisper hugged her father, and Sonic smiled shakily, sighing to keep off the tears. "He was my friend. You see, you lose a lot of people when you're off adventuring, but the worst is failing to remember them. Chip told me that he'd always be with me, and I believe that." Sonic shrugged. "I've never told anyone that," he mused in wonder, looking at his daughter. Whisper smiled sentimentally, and reached up to kiss her father's cheek.

"One of my other friends…" Sonic reached down into his sock and pulled up a white handkerchief, wrapped around a smaller item. He unrolled the cloth, revealing the magical qualities of the thing. Inside, it appeared that there was sand, as white and pure as snow. But when Whisper touched it, all she felt was cloth. She giggled in amazement. Sonic smiled. He produced a feather from the center of the hankie. "Two of my friends," Sonic corrected himself, "gave me these, in one way or another. This feather," he smiled, watching Whisper play with the frayed edges, "this belonged to a human princess. Thanks to the strange powers of the gods, she has long forgotten me. But, for some reason, I remember her. To this day, I still don't understand it." He shook his head in amazement. Whisper grinned.

"The handkerchief was a present from my friend Sharah. She was a genie of the ring." Whisper nodded. She knew all about genies from her books, learning to read from Ame. "Hopelessly in love with a genie of the lamp. I felt bad vanquishing her significant other, so I asked for one last wish. A mountain of handkerchiefs." Sonic smiled, eyes far off as he remembered. "I told her she could cry as long as she needed to. Then, I had to go." Sonic watched his daughter, struggling not to talk. "I know you can talk," Sonic repeated gently. "I won't tell anyone."

Whisper cleared her throat, blushing. "You…you had to go?" She asked him gingerly, testing the waters of speaking aloud. Her voice was soft, like the whisperings in the wind she was named for. Sonic grinned. Somehow, he'd thought that's exactly the way she would sound.

"Yes. I never wanted to stay in one place for long. The only time I ever did was the many times I was unfortunate enough to be captured."

"Captured?" Whisper's eyes glistened as she climbed into his lap. "Like when, daddy?"

Sonic laughed softly, so as not to wake his son or wife. "I will tell you some other time," he answered her, struggling to hide a yawn. "I'm tired. Tomorrow is a big day for me."

"I know. You're marrying mommy."

"I was right to assume you were smarter than you look!"

"I'm smarter than mommy thinks I am. I'm smarter than Ame." Whisper touched her father's cheek with her small, light cobalt hand. "I don't think I'm as smart as you yet, daddy."

"Mmmm, not yet." Sonic admitted, nuzzling her nose with his own. "But, maybe someday you'll be smarter than your old man."

"There'll always be something you'll know that I don't." Whisper kissed him on the tip of his black nose, making her father jump. "And who said you were old?"

"You're right. I'm barely twenty-five. How did you figure that one out?"

"Easy!" Whisper's voice was beginning to take on a cocky, over-confident undertone. Sonic had to keep back his laughter. She was already so much like him. "You don't look anything like the elder hedgehogs in the stories!"

Sonic kissed her between the ears. "And with any luck, I never will! Now, are you awake because you need a snack, or is it something else?"

Whisper shook her head. "Daddy, you won't tell anyone, will you?"

"What do you mean? That you can talk?"

Whisper nodded.

"I won't tell a soul. I promise."

"Really?"

Sonic laughed. "Ask your mother. I've never broken a promise."

Whisper shook her head. "I'm not talking yet!" She teased, swatting at him. Sonic chuckled, avoiding her hand.

"Okay, okay! But, yeah, I won't tell anyone. It'll be our little secret." Sonic lifted her off his lap and tucked her under the covers. "Get some rest, Wisp."

"You too, daddy. Good night!"

"Good night." Sonic flicked off the lamp and closed the door.

He had just one more secret to keep now. And it was one that he would happily carry to his grave.