A/N: Bit of fluff/filler in this chapter . . . apologies for that, it's somewhat inescapable. This story might be going in a slightly different manner for a little while . . . nothing too drastic though, promise.
Disclaimer: I don't own Sonic and Co., or any of the songs referenced. Except that one I made up, nobody owns that one. :P
Bokkun's confession did not go over well. If not restrained, Amy would probably have done him serious bodily harm. It was a long, long time before anyone came even close to believing him, and even then it was only because Rouge told them how she had previously blackmailed him with the locket containing Cream's picture.
Once everyone had somewhat wrapped their heads around the idea that Eggman's most mischievous robot actually had a crush on sweet-natured Cream, things still didn't end—Sonic and the rest weren't really the kind to torture their prisoners, but in their desperation for answers they came pretty darn close. Bokkun stubbornly insisted that he knew nothing about what Eggman had released, when, where, or how, and kept begging to see Cream, insisting he could help cheer her up. Needless to say, the others were not easily convinced of this.
At long last, the messenger robo was permitted a few minutes to see her, with the strict warning that one single call of distress from Cream would bring down wrath and blunt impacts upon his head. He was escorted to the laundry room, grinning nervously and nodding fervently at Amy's admonitions. As soon as the door was closed, Amy pressed her eye to the keyhole; the view was limited, but better than nothing.
"Cream?" called Bokkun. "It's me!"
Cream bolted upright at once, her eyes wide.
"B-Bokkun?" she asked.
"They said I could come visit ya!" chirped Bokkun, perching on the edge of the laundry basket. "How are ya?"
"I'm . . . fine," said Cream guardedly. "Did . . . did Dr. Eggman send you?"
"No, no, he doesn't know I'm here!" said Bokkun hastily. "Don't tell him, okay? He'd be furious!"
Cream studied the little robo, puzzled.
"So, why're you in the laundry basket?" asked Bokkun, settling down more comfortably. From behind the door, Amy clutched the handle of her hammer and muttered.
"A lot of bad things happened . . . " mumbled Cream, unsure of how to answer so direct and casual a question.
"Yeah, the others told me about 'em," said Bokkun. "It didn't sound that bad to me. Kinda cool!"
Cream gave him another blank look.
"Oh, you know what I mean." Bokkun dug a sock out of the laundry basket and draped it over his "ear," evidently intending to adhere to dress code. "You don't have to worry about it, everyone else seemed pretty relaxed. What's the point of hidin' here when there's nothin' to hide from?"
Cream surveyed him in utter bewilderment.
"Why . . . are you here?" she ventured, trying to figure out a way to phrase such a question politely. This was the question that finally threw Bokkun. He fell silent, surveying his left boot shyly.
"Welllll . . . I, uh . . . "
Outside, things were quiet for a while. At length Amy could stand the suspense no longer and carefully opened the door to the laundry room. She was greeted by the sight of Bokkun and Cream perched on the edge of the washing machine, the former with socks jammed rakishly onto the points of his head, and both cheerfully absorbed in folding a dryer sheet into an origami swan.
"What . . . " began Amy, staring.
"I talked to her," said Bokkun cheerfully.
The others figured they'd better not probe too deep, lest they broke the spell. Granted though, some of them were just the teensiest bit hurt. After all, they were Cream's longtime friends, and they hadn't been able to do a thing for her—yet she responded to one of their most annoying enemies?
In a way though, it made a bitter kind of sense. Cream couldn't face those she cared about because she felt guilty about hurting and frightening them, but with Bokkun there was no guilt, no horror, no dismay. He was totally relaxed about the whole incident—and, well, maybe the fact that a supposed enemy actually cared for her counted for something too.
There were too many questions still left unanswered, though. Many of the crew favored just storming Eggman's base and demanding that he explain what he'd unleashed, but Bokkun desperately begged them not to—that would be a dead giveaway that he'd been consorting with the enemy, blabbing about lapses in Eggman's security. Little as the Mobians cared for the little robo, they didn't want to subject him to the consequences of that—especially not when he'd done Cream so much good.
Still, they desperately needed answers, so after a few attempts at tiptoing around the subject they asked Cream directly what had happened that day. She explained the whole story, surprisingly calmly.
"I was out in the woods, picking flowers for Mommy," she said, kicking her heels lightly against the foot of the sofa. "Then I started to go home, and after a while I started to feel really . . . angry. Really, really angry. And I wanted to . . . " here she faltered a little, gulping. Bokkun nudged her lightly from his perch beside her. Amy grimaced unhappily, but Cream seemed to take heart from the gesture. She took a deep breath and continued.
"I wanted to . . . do bad things. It was just all I could think of, I . . . I just hated everyone so much. And then I met Amy, and . . . y-you know."
"Did anything unusual happen?" asked Tails cautiously, looking up from taking notes. "Did you see or hear or feel anything strange before you started feeling angry?"
"Uhm . . . I remember the birds were a little quieter than usual, I think," ventured Cream, twiddling her fingers. "And . . . well, an ant bit me while I was picking flowers, but I didn't think it was important."
"An ant? . . . " Tails blinked thoughtfully. "Hmm. How long was it between the ant bite and the time you started feeling angry?"
"Uhmmm . . . a little while?" ventured Cream. At her young age, her time-telling abilities were still a little shaky.
"Maybe fifteen minutes?" prompted Tails gently.
"I guess so? I had walked out of the woods by the time it started, and I was as far in as the creek."
Tails nodded, tugging absently at one ear.
As soon as he could, he ran a search on ant species. The results sent him into a flurry of joy.
"I found it!" he whooped, bursting out of his workshop. "I found the explanation! Ants!"
"Ants?" Sonic raised an eyebrow.
"Yes, yes!" Tails waved a printout. "There's a very rare species of tropical ant whose bite causes extreme aggression! It all makes perfect sense!"
"But . . . tropical?" Sonic tilted his head dubiously.
"That's exactly why it's so perfect!" exulted Tails. "Think about it. The thing Eggman accidentally released—he must have had a sample of the ants for some plot of his, and somehow they escaped. They would've liked the woods, since they live in jungles in their native habitat. One of them bit Cream—fifteen minutes is about the right amount of time for the venom to kick in—and when we were camping, one of them must have bitten you while you were asleep!"
"So you think you've got it?" asked Sonic, grinning. Tails grinned back, ear to ear.
"I think I've got it!"
Of course, there were holes in this theory—small holes, but holes nonetheless. For one thing, the effects seemed awfully strong to be brought on by a single ant bite; a whole nest-full of them, maybe, but one? Ant venom didn't generally pack that much punch. And why would Eggman be nervous even if his ants did escape? His style was more along the lines of spraying industrial-strength insecticide over his entire base, and perhaps the surrounding countryside for good measure, and then forgetting about the whole affair.
Compounding this, there was the small fact that the ant's bite was supposed to induce fever and general drunken behavior as well, neither of which had been present in Sonic or Cream. And what of Sonic's complete physical transformation? That didn't sound like anything ant venom could bring on . . .
But then, hope is a treacherous thing. Even the very brightest, most cautious minds can be blinded by the sudden twinkle of hope through the darkness. When you've been groping for an answer so long, the first vaguely plausible theory can seem like a life preserver in a stormy ocean, something to latch onto without a second thought.
So they latched on. It took all of one day for the news to circulate, and soon everyone was utterly giddy with the heady relief of knowing where their problems came from. It wasn't even so bad a condition, they all agreed; the antidote worked perfectly, and it even seemed like those bitten really wanted to take it. Tails could simply mix up a large quantity of the medicine, and if anyone started acting squabblish, down the hatch! Not even as bad as rattlesnakes, really.
Somehow, the general elation percolated until it transformed into plans for a small get-together at Amy's house—nothing big, just a chance for everyone to meet up and shake off the grip of darker memories with some chit-chat. Maybe some chips, a bit of soda, Tails dragged out the old karaoke machine he'd fixed up.
Cream insisted that Bokkun be invited too; by now it seemed those two were actually getting to be friends. Attending was a risky business—he was usually free to run all over creation during the daytime, but Eggman wanted him on a curfew at night—but they managed to set up a careful exception through Maria. Maria herself would also be able to come over, which you didn't hear Shadow complaining about. He wouldn't have showed up normally, but in that case . . .
It was a warm, subdued little affair. Vanilla chatted with Blaze, Vector hung about nearby and swirled his drink awkwardly, Rouge squabbled good-naturedly with Knuckles. Cream's fellow Kid Brigaders were off to one side, eyeing Bokkun with suspicion, but for now he was behaving reasonably well.
"So, ants," said Espio, his arms folded. The look on his face said that something wasn't sitting right with him, but he said nothing out loud.
"Yeah, who'd have thought?" said Tails, smiling ruefully. "Little old ants."
"We should sing a song in honor of 'em!" declared Charmy, and went marching over to the karoake machine.
"Where are you going to get a song that honors . . . " Tails trailed off as Charmy began to sing "The Ants Go Marching," nevermind the musical accompaniment. "Oh."
"I'm getting a bad feeling about this karaoke idea," joked Sonic, as several of the others began to laughingly sing along with Charmy. Sonic himself was lounging by the kitchen table, which had been dragged into the living room and placed by the sofa. Nearby, Silver looked up from tugging the pull tab of a soda can.
"Hey, how about I sing next?"
"No!" yelped several of his friends at once.
"Aww, come on! I'm not that bad."
"Exactly. You're worse," retorted Shadow, looking up from the armchair he was slouched in. "Don't even think about it."
Silver huffed in annoyance and reached for the potato chips.
"Oooh, how about you sing?" smirked Sonic. "Sing us the Phantom of the Opera, eh Shads? Maybe some heavy metal?"
Shadow rolled his eyes silently; he had come because Maria was coming, but now that he was here he didn't care to do much more than commandeer this armchair and watch the merrymaking through hooded eyes, his head propped resignedly up in one hand. You could put a little caption above his head, reading "Bored Hedgehog is Bored."
Now that Charmy had started the ruckus though, a couple of the others were more willing to give singing a try—although there was still a lot of awkward grinning and false starting. Marine joined Charmy for a wildly enthusiastic (if utterly tuneless) rendition of "Waltzing Matilda," Vector sang "Don't Stop Believing" (if imagining this gives you a headache, don't be alarmed; that's the normal reaction), and Maria, under prodding from the other children, attempted "Let It Go." She did about as well as could be expected for a ten-year-old, but hey—this was karaoke, not Broadway.
"How about you, Blaze?" asked Sonic, grinning mischievously. "Are voice lessons part of the princess education?"
"They are, actually," smiled Blaze. "But I'm not sure I ever did very well in that respect."
"Only one way to find out!" sang Amy, gesturing towards the cleared-out part of the living room that served as a "stage." "Give it a go, Blaze! Nobody's gonna judge!"
"Ohh, I couldn't . . . " Blaze blushed slightly, but the others were so eager to hear her that she relented. Her princess training shone through as soon as she stepped forward; not a trace of nervousness was allowed to peek out. No matter if you know everyone in the room and are pretty sure you'll do fine, singing karaoke is ultimately an embarrassing experience—but Blaze merely adjusted the microphone and checked the song selection with her usual quiet gravity.
"I'm going to try 'I Knew You Were Trouble,' if that's all right," she announced politely.
"Ooooooh, Silver, what'd you do?" sang Sonic, as several of the others cast the hedgehog amused grins.
"It has nothing to do with me!" protested Silver, reddening. "She just likes that song."
"Of course," grinned Sonic, rolling his eyes exaggeratedly. Silver turned to give him a look, but was interrupted by a new disaster. Shadow had idly been swinging a sugar packet between his thumb and forefinger for the last few minutes, but now he took advantage of the distraction by surreptitiously flicking the contents of the packet into Silver's soda can. The soda promptly became a mass of fizz, burbling into the air and all over the table in a caramel-colored fountain.
"Hey!" yelped Silver, trying to clamp his hand over the frothing mess and instead somehow managing to spill most of it over himself. "Oh, come on—"
"You're going to need a napkin," smirked Shadow, scrunching up a paper napkin and tossing it at Silver's head. Silver blew through his nose and folded back his ears, but concentrated on keeping more of the soda from spilling off the edge of the table.
"Aww Shadow, you leave him alone!" scolded Amy, scooting a pile of napkins towards Silver.
"That will happen when he grows a backbone," retorted Shadow, remorseless.
"I am serious," said Amy, glaring. "I suppose you think backbone involves picking on the defenseless?"
"So you're calling him defenseless now," remarked Shadow, closing his eyes boredly. "Apt."
"Can we just end this conversation, please?" asked Silver through his teeth, bunching up a pile of soda-soaked napkins. Shadow snorted quietly. Usually he wouldn't dream of getting involved in such trivialities, but there was just something about tormenting Silver that inspired all kinds of exceptions. The hedgehog was too dang mild-mannered; he drove Shadow up the wall, and Shadow compensated for this by taking any opportunity to exchange miseries.
While all this had been going down, Blaze had finished her song, doing quite a good job. Those who had been paying attention clapped enthusiastically, while most of those who hadn't clapped even harder to save face.
"Nice job," said Silver shyly as Blaze sat down next to him. She raised an eyebrow amusedly.
"Thank you . . . what happened to you?"
"Eh . . . nothing." Silver twirled his now-empty soda can into the air glumly.
Suddenly Amy stood up from where she was sitting.
"My turn to sing," she announced, oddly determined.
"It's not so bad," smiled Blaze. "Don't be nervous."
"I can't help it," laughed Amy, and strode to the front of the room. Smoothing down her skirt with a purposeful snap, she stepped up to the mike. "Hey everybody! You ready?" She shook back her bangs, smiling crookedly. "I'm going to do 'Potato Patch' for you all!"
There was a bit of surprised laughter—"Potato Patch" was one of those unusual songs that only got popular in Mobian circles, but it was the absolute last song anyone would have expected Amy to pick. It was a wistful little ballad about a secret love—a girl too shy to reveal her affection for the boy next door, resorting to peeking through her window while he tends the potato patch in his backyard. Definitely not Amy. The only thing more unexpected might have been Eggman sauntering in through the front door and announcing that he would lead them all in "Give Peace a Chance."
Amy was a tolerably good singer, really. She didn't have the greatest range or power behind her voice, but it was sweet and clear and didn't tend too much towards wrong notes. What really caught everyone's attention, though, was the strange fervor with which Amy sang. She seemed to be throwing her whole self into it, not just in a "whee-this-is-a-fun-time" way, in a truly visceral way, the way people sing breakup songs just after a breakup. She was smiling from ear to ear, but her eyes glinted oddly.
The clapping after the last note died away was noticeably subdued.
"You okay, Pinkie?" asked Rouge, twitching an ear.
"I'm fine, I'm fine!" Amy ran a hand through her quills, laughing gamely. "Haha—sorry, didn't mean to get that into it."
"Into it?" Rouge chuckled. "What are you so into?"
"Ugh." Amy bit her lip, but made no move to step away from the mike. "Okay . . . um, hey, everyone? I know this is a pretty terrible time to be making silly confessions, but now just feels like . . . the right time . . . " She chuckled nervously, scruffing back her quills again and closing her eyes. "I'll make this quick, I promise. I've been . . . well, lying. To all of you. For—for a long time now. I can explain, I promise I'll explain, but right now I just have to get to the point, just have to tell the truth. That song—I chose it for a reason. Because I . . . I . . . " Her will seemed to be petering out right now, and her fingers closed tightly around the microphone stand, her voice faltering. "I-I love you . . . "
She could barely bring her voice above a whisper to say his name, but the microphone still picked it up. The dead silence that followed was broken by a glass slipping from Shadow's hand and shattering.