As a matter of fact, I did walk home. The walk back gave me lots of time to think.

I was surprised at myself, to be honest.

After Campfire Night, I remember a day or two of travel, as fast as we could, as far as we could. Rotor probably doesn't even remember it. He and Amy Rose slept almost the whole day. I remember my mind wandering.

I realized just how little I knew about Sonic. Honestly, he'd just become my friend in the weirdest way...how could I describe it? To anyone but Rotor and Sonic, "intellectual high" just wouldn't cut it.

What were Sonic's goals? Did he live for anything but the universe itself? What did he dream about at night? What was his family like? Did he worry about anything?

Heck, I didn't know what his favorite color was.

"Alright there, Tails?" Sonic asked. Even after six hours, driving didn't faze him. Crazy, crazy hedgehog.

"Of course," I smiled weakly. Stupid.

"I'm gonna stop soon anyway. Get you a chance to stretch your legs. Feel free to chat up Amy Rose."

"Right, whatever." I rolled my eyes. I didn't want to roll my eyes, I wanted to ask him important life questions that would give me a deeper understanding of him. My tongue had other ideas.

We did stop, ten minutes later, at a gas station. I did, in fact, talk to Amy Rose. If ever there was a doll, two years ago, Amy Rose was her.

But I became concerned when Sonic was five minutes in holding us up. We'd begun to get restless, and I wanted to know what was taking so long.

Leaving Amy for a moment, I walked closer to the station. I gradually became aware of a smell, close to the station building itself. Dismissing it as gas, I kept looking for Sonic.

Maybe if I was lucky, I could ask Sonic about himself before his charismatic personality got in the way. Strange how great things about a person can be just as bad sometimes as their faults.

And people have faults, let me tell you. I could get cynical and snappy in a heartbeat. Rotor sometimes lapsed into his parents' strict ideas, giving you lectures at the worst time. So what was Sonic's flaw? Was he some kind of snake oil salesman by night? Was he a kleptomaniac? (Look, that one's true, actually. I'm not condoning it.) Really, what was his defining problem?

I walked around the gas station some more, not finding any hint of Sonic. I probably looked really dumb, and I finally gave up my search, leaning against a shady wall. The smell started to creep into my nostrils again, stronger over here now. I sniffed in, grimacing as it fully entered my nose.

Holy cow.

Holy cow, that wasn't gas.

That was actual smoke. Not fire smoke, cigarette smoke.

Back then, it wasn't too rare to see a college kid smoking. Luckily for me, I'd always been reminded of the dangers of smoking by not only my mother, but Rotor's parents as well. No one I knew smoked, not really.

And then I put two and two together.

I didn't know Sonic's major flaw. No one I knew smoked. I didn't really know Sonic myself. Sonic was the only person behind the gas station. He'd taken an unreasonably long time behind the station. And there was smoke coming from behind the gas station.

And that wasn't just any kind of cigarette, considering Sonic's behavior. His ideas were crazy, erratic. Intellectual high? Maybe it was more than that.

Dreading my conclusions, I debated whether or not to look behind the station. If I did look, I'd have to take responsibility. If not, I'd be enabling his drug abuse. Yeah, there it was, plain and simple. He was a druggie at this point.

Looking back, I have to say I'm glad I looked. It didn't save me any trouble, but it was the right thing.

Sonic dropped the pipe almost immediately. I could already tell he knew he'd been caught. His ears drooped, and he had a cornered look in his eyes.

"Aw, geez, Sonic!" I muttered, and he sank down to a sitting position.I crouched down to his level. "Why drugs, man?"

Sonic wouldn't look me in the eyes. With a start, he got to his feet, pushed past me, and began to run away.

My shoulder fell against the station brick - to this day I swear I've got shoulder problems - giving Sonic quite the head start. I cursed and began to follow him as fast as my legs could carry me. I learned something about Sonic: he hadn't been a long-distance runner in high school.

Even out West, there are still woods. I found Sonic by a thickly-branched tree, head in hands, slumped over.

"So that's what they put you in jail for," I muttered.

Sonic didn't nod, didn't really move at all.

"You know that stuff's gonna kill you, right?"

Another non-committal not-nod.

"Look," I sighed. "I can take you back to jail. Looks like the best thing I could do for you. But I won't."

"Ah, that's the thing," Sonic mumbled. "I'm not just fresh outta jail."

I ran a hand through my hair. "Oh, come on. So if I don't take you back, I'm a criminal?"

No movement.

I took Sonic to the Montana State Jail in silence, after dropping off a confused Amy Rose and an equally confused Rotor. It was a long, angry, silent ride. The police questioned me later on, but I'd managed to keep them from Rotor and Amy by being the only one to deliver him.

I didn't really know if he'd ever kicked the habit. That got me thinking.

And then it hit me, for the second time. What if Sonic had never kicked the habit? Oh, who was I fooling; two years and then an Ok-you're-fine never happened with the police department!

Sonic needed me, if only to put him back into jail.