Thanks so much to everyone who's been reviewing, following, faving, etc! We're easing into the downhill stretch here, but still a fair bit to go.
Knuckles' appearance did not seem to have changed much, if at all. Perhaps his muzzle had grown just a little bit longer and sharper—but then again, his muzzle had always been a little longer than most. And perhaps his eyes were a little narrower and harder than usual—but that could've just been the suspicious way he was glaring. The changes in his posture and gait were less physical than they were physiological. Otherwise, the most notable thing about him was the fact that a patch of ragged scars was torn into his left forearm.
"What happened to you?" gasped Amy, gazing at the damaged limb. The wounds had mostly closed, but they still looked highly painful. Rouge, outside of anyone's notice, was looking a little sick.
Knuckles, however, did not seem communicative. As Silver set him down gently, he scrambled loose from the psychokinetic grip and glared about shiftily, lips curled into a snarl.
"What are you all doing here?" he hissed, his glance flitting back and forth. "Why so many of you? Come to finish me off now that I'm injured, is that what it is?"
"Oh, wow." Sonic clapped a palm to his face. "Wow. This Fio character is good."
"We're here to help," said Amy gently. "Knuckles. Did some kind of purple animal bite you yesterday?"
"Why are you asking?" asked Knuckles, drawing back and eyeing her warily. His good arm twitched, as if his fist itched to start defending him already.
"You've been bitten by Fio," explained Amy. "Remember, the monster we talked about? He bit you, and now you're all messed up. But look, we have the antidote!" She held up the little clear-plastic flask that Tails had issued her.
You could see the longing suddenly springing into Knuckles' eyes. His glare softened noticeably, and his body shifted, straining against his will towards the antidote. He wanted it, but he struggled not to show it.
"You've . . . got to be kidding," he mumbled, swallowing. "I'll bet that's poison, isn't it?"
"Knuckles!" protested Amy. "We only want to help!"
"And give me one reason to believe you," growled Knuckles. "You. You're the one who lied to Sonic, and then to me, running around lying to everyone about spies and companies and who you were in love with—lying just comes easy for you, doesn't it?"
"I . . . n-no . . . " stammered Amy, her eyes widening at the unexpected blow. "I didn't mean to . . . "
"You never mean anything, do you?" snorted Knuckles.
"Hey, leave her alone," said Sonic sharply.
"Hey, you leave my island alone," Knuckles snapped back. "You're not much better, always knowing how to butter people up, get what you want out of them, acting all nice . . . Thought I didn't know, eh? Thought the old Knucklehead didn't know you were manipulating him?"
"Uh . . . " Sonic looked at him with the blankly puzzled expression you would give someone who suddenly walked up to you and began to rattle away in a foreign tongue. Knuckles waved dismissively at all of them in general.
"Get off my island. Right now. All of you. Go do your plotting somewhere else, where it'll at least be harder for you to stab me in the back." He glanced around in a paranoid fashion. "Or are there more of you hiding in the bushes somewhere? Yeah, that's it, isn't it? You thought you could get me to let my guard down talking to me here, and then boom, somebody leaps out from behind and I'm dead! Oh, you cunning devils. I almost didn't see it coming!"
"All right." Shadow's voice cut into the tension coolly. "The sheer idiocy of this conversation is reaching critical levels. I suggest we take measures to prevent permanent brain damage from striking us all."
Knuckles regarded him suspiciously, his narrowed violet eyes searching his face as if looking for clues to deception. He didn't say anything, though.
"If the number of us present bothers you," resumed Shadow, "you may speak to only one of us. To prove our cooperativeness, we will let you choose which one of us you wish to speak to."
"I want no conversation."
"Too bad. We do."
Knuckles eyed him again, then moved his gaze to each of the other Mobians in turn, assessing their expressions. They tried to look honest and ingenuous, and not-at-all nervous, because that would just make him more suspicious . . . dang, it was difficult looking innocent when you knew you were assumed guilty. But who would Knuckles pick? The precise-speaking Omega? The grave, serious Blaze? Sonic, one of his best friends?
"Her," said Knuckles at last, pointing.
"Rouge?!"
"The rest of you are unpredictable," said Knuckles flatly. "I can't guess what you're going to do next. With her, there is no guessing; everything she says is a lie and everything she does is a trick."
"You say the nicest things, Knuckles," said Rouge bitterly.
The others retreated to a respectful distance, waiting for the conversation to begin. Knuckles, evidently not satisfied with this, began to walk away, watching them cautiously over his shoulder. He also watched Rouge, who was walking by his side; at the current rate, he was practically pointing either eye in a different direction.
"So," said Rouge casually, folding her arms. "Can we talk, or can't we?"
"Well, talk," grunted Knuckles, shifting his full attention to her for a second. "But I'm onto you. Make one false move, and . . . " He twitched one fist significantly.
Rouge calculated rapidly, hoping it was rapid enough not to arouse Knuckles' suspicion even more. No matter what she said, Knuckles would assume it was some kind of trick. If he expected a more nefarious trick, he would probably get violent. How to get through to such a character?
Best to work with their strongest attack. With a practiced nonchalance, Rouge pulled out the little flask of antidote she carried. Knuckles tensed towards it again, a little breath of excitement slipping into his throat unbidden.
"You know you've been possessed by Fio's venom, right?" said Rouge lazily, studying the flask as if entirely uninterested in the conversation. "You remember, we had that whole talk about purple animals, and getting bitten, and such? And you know you've been bitten. Wouldn't you like to get better?"
"M . . . maybe." Knuckles dragged the back of his mitt over his mouth. "You've . . . you've got some kind of spell going, haven't you? What are you doing? Why . . . "
"Oh, you mean wanting this?" Rouge shook the antidote at him tantalizingly. "Come on. You were there when Sonic and Cream and Amy took the antidote, you saw how they all wanted it. And if you want it now, that must mean you need it, hmm?"
Knuckles forced himself to look away, swallowing. He was shivering slightly with the effort of keeping his hands away from the little bottle; Rouge felt the slightest pang of annoyance. All these years she had been flirting and charming him, and he had never shown her even a fraction of the fascination he now seemed to be pouring into a flask of some sweet-smelling bitter-tasting medicine. Of course it was all just an effect of a powerful evil venom, but it still felt . . . belittling.
Meanwhile, Knuckles was breathing slowly, still looking away.
"It's a trick," he mumbled hoarsely. "You knew I'd want the antidote. You knew it. You thought I'd gulp it without hesitation . . . the perfect chance to poison me . . . "
"Oh, for the love of—" Rouge fought the desire to smack her forehead. "You have got to be kidding me, Knucklehead."
"I'm not," said Knuckles darkly. "But maybe you are."
"Yeah, sure," said Rouge wearily, then immediately realized that had been the wrong thing to say. Knuckles' eyes flashed dangerously. Somehow, without Rouge noticing, he had worked her gradually closer to the Master Emerald's shrine as they walked. Now he suddenly fixed her with a searing glare.
"So you are up to something."
The lightest of shoves, and Rouge stumbled back against the slanting wall of the pyramid. Even before her heart had a chance to stop, she felt a hot wave of energy flare above her, and saw her surroundings lapse into eerie long shadows. The Master Emerald was out to destroy her.
She couldn't dodge away faster than the energy could catch her. All she could do was the first blind reflex that came to mind, grabbing the blue Chaos Emerald and thrusting it up over her head.
She felt heat wash over her, dancing along her body. She didn't open her eyes, but she felt strange tingling pulses stroking over her hand and the Chaos Emerald she held out like a shield, threatening that its annihilation would come with hers. Eventually the heat subsided, then retreated, then died entirely. The Master Emerald was loth to destroy one of its own.
Rouge waited a moment, then lowered the Chaos Emerald, letting her breath out slowly.
"Nice try," she said coldly, glancing at Knuckles. He surveyed her up and down, his eyes still narrowed in mistrust. Rouge swallowed, trying to cool the boiling in her blood.
"Will you," she gritted, "or will you not, drink this antidote already?"
"It's poisoned," mumbled Knuckles, unshakeable. "It's bound to be poisoned."
"Tell you what," said Rouge, forcibly calm. "I'll drink it. We brought four bottles of antidote. You pick whichever one you want, and pick another for me to drink. If I'm not scared to drink it, you don't have anything to worry about, do you?"
Knuckles looked unconvinced, but he glanced surreptitiously at the glimmering bottle of medicine and seemed to make up his mind.
"I . . . guess . . . we could try? . . . "
Rouge fetched the other three bottles and laid all four out before Knuckles, then turned away.
"Choose without me looking. I don't want you constantly checking my expression."
Knuckles took his time choosing. At last, he mumbled that he supposed he was ready, and handed Rouge one of the flasks.
"You drink this one, I'll drink this one."
"All right," said Rouge carelessly. Knuckles squinted at her dubiously.
"On second thought, let's switch. You drink this one."
"Why not?" agreed Rouge, still blandly resigned. Knuckles, evidently all tormented by doubts, demanded that they switch twice more, then switched out his own flask with a new one for good measure, then switched his and Rouge's again. Rouge was prepared to smack him.
At last Knuckles took his bottle in hand and unscrewed the top, ever so cautiously. Rouge, relieved, quickly uncapped hers as well.
"Both together now," she said encouragingly. Knuckles glanced at her keenly, then looked back to the antidote, his tongue flickering over his lips in a mixture of longing and unease. He was starting to look mildly terrified.
"And what if it is poisoned?" he mumbled to no one in particular.
"Well then, you can get a pair of green contact lenses and haunt me from beyond the grave, eh?" said Rouge drily. Knuckles' mouth twitched slightly, but he still eyed the antidote with grave foreboding as he slowly lifted it to his lips. Rouge bobbed her own drink ironically. "Na zdruwko."
"What's that mean?" asked Knuckles, jumping suspiciously. "Some kind of signal? Code?"
"It's a toast, you knucklehead!" moaned Rouge. "Just drink it!"
Knuckles drew in his breath, closed his eyes, and downed the antidote all in one gulp, while Rouge swilled hers gamely. It tasted pretty disgusting to her; she wondered if it tasted good to those who actually needed it. She also wondered if it was even safe drinking the stuff when you didn't need it. They'd find that out soon enough.
Meanwhile Knuckles ran his tongue around the mouth of the bottle, trying to draw in the last few drops of the sweet-smelling liquid. Self-consciously he looked up and drew his tongue back in, his eyes slowly growing wide with realization. Then his eyelids slid closed, and he would have fallen backwards if Rouge hadn't caught his elbow. The usual lapse of consciousness lasted only a moment; soon he came around, blinked over at Rouge blankly, and seemed to process for a moment.
"Damn," he whispered.
"My sentiments exactly!" retorted Rouge, spitting and wiping her tongue to get the bitter oiliness of the antidote off it. "I hope you're satisfied."
"I . . . " Knuckles rubbed his forehead desperately, shame clouding his eyes. "Oh sweet Mobius."
"I've got him cured!" Rouge hollered in the general direction of the others. They showed up in no time. Knuckles shifted uncomfortably and eyed them shamefacedly, unsure of what to say. He had been the cause of trouble before a time or two, due to Eggman's plotting, and the guilt always ate at him then—now was no different.
"Hey Knux, how ya doing?" called Sonic.
"And what happened to your arm?!" added Amy.
"I'm fine," mumbled Knuckles. "Crocodile."
"A crocodile bit you?!"
"I was catching fish for lunch, and suddenly this huge purple croc just jumps out of the water," said Knuckles, shrugging. "Got hold of my arm before I knew what was happening."
"Did it get away?" asked Sonic urgently. "Is it still out there?"
"Nah . . . I bashed its head in." Knuckles glanced around uneasily. "The death traps . . . are you guys okay? There weren't more of you?"
"No, we are all accounted for," said Shadow. "By the way, what is that?"
Everyone looked where he was pointing, then fell still.
"Is that . . . fire?" whispered Silver.
Indeed, the sky to the west was lit up with a sinister red glow, and the occasional column of flame leaped up above the treetops.
"The whole island's gonna burn!" barked Sonic. "We have to get over there!"
Angel Island was mostly jungle, so it was comparatively damp, but it hadn't rained for the last few days. Also, with so many fire traps scattered everywhere, it was inevitable that something was going to catch alight eventually. The flames had gone unnoticed while the Mobians dealt with Knuckles, and had apparently managed to slowly spread their way over a broad area. Now, with no water-carrying system and a host of death traps slowing them down, the team found themselves faced with a surprisingly intense battle. Luckily they had Blaze on their side, and the semi-fireproof Omega, plus Knuckles remembered where he had set most of the traps.
Six hours later, the last of the flames had been reduced to smoldering ash, leaving about a sixth of the island's vegetation singed or scorched. The firefighters finally stopped to catch their breaths, wiping sweat and soot from their faces, some throwing themselves down where they stood in exhaustion. Knuckles was surveying the damage silently, cradling his injured arm; in the chaos, his wounds had been reopened, and a thick ooze of blood was creeping down towards his wrist. Nodding sadly at the others' murmured condolences, he gradually drifted closer to Rouge.
She didn't look up as he approached, and for a while Knuckles hesitated as to what he should say—whether there was anything he could say. He had almost killed her.
"Rouge?" he ventured at last. Rouge glanced up, but then turned her back on him, biting the crook of her thumb.
"Rouge . . . "
"Go get that arm bandaged," she replied tightly.
Knuckles bit his lip, but turned away.
The others helped disinfect his arm and get it tightly wrapped in gauze; he took the procedure stoically, his eyes glazed.
"You have to rest now," said Amy firmly, squeezing Knuckles' good shoulder. "You were up working all night. You were hurt, you've lost a lot of blood, and you've been running all over the island, digging holes, moving heavy weights, now fighting a fire—you have to rest."
"I will," said Knuckles wearily. "I will. Thank you all for coming to help. I'm sorry about the trouble."
"T'sokay," said Sonic gently. "Rest up Knucklehead, awright? We'll come in and check on ya soon."
Knuckles nodded heavily. As the others filed quietly away, he settled down against a tree and closed his eyes as if in sleep.
But as soon as the others were gone, he heaved himself to his feet and began to walk. Like a ghost he stumbled silently through the jungle, disabling the death traps he came across, mechanical in his movements, barely looking where he was going. After more than an hour of this, he seemed to have exhausted his will entirely. He slumped down on a fallen tree in the burned part of the forest, clutching his arm and letting his head hang.
There was a soft rattle of wings, and a gentle pat of someone landing next to him. He didn't look up. She didn't ask him to. Neither of them said anything for a while. Crickets sawed away through the silence, mingling their rhythm with the occasional trill or liquid warble of some nighttime creature.
"So many trees," whispered Rouge at last. "So many."
Knuckles made no move to reply. Rouge flexed her wings slightly, tilting her head to glimpse his features.
"They'll grow back."
A long cricket-filled pause.
"They shouldn't have to," replied Knuckles softly. His eyes flashed towards her for an instant, dull and dark with guilt; then he was dragging himself to his feet, ready to head out again. Rouge shifted to catch him as he collapsed back against the log. Blinking, he swayed his head in weak defiance.
"Have to get back to work," he mumbled.
"No. You promised you'd rest."
Knuckles tried to say something, but his eyes were already slipping shut in sheer exhaustion, and against his will he slumped against her. Sighing heavily, as if giving up something he'd wanted ever so much, he fell asleep. Rouge pulled him closer and continued to sit in silence, listening to the crickets and looking out over the charred remains of Angel Island's western forest.