A/N: One more chapter after this. A big thank you to all those who review, follow, and fave, especially Lost and Forgotten Memories, who seems to have PMs disabled, and anonymous reviewer Guest. Thanks to both of you!


The next morning, Rouge slowly clambered out of a surprisingly blissful sleep. For a minute she was surprised at her surroundings, but then she relaxed. Right, she was sleeping on Amy's couch after the fire. Also, she was doomed. Sighing drowsily, she snuggled down under the quilt Amy had loaned her, huddling against the back of the sofa. It was surprisingly comfortable, and very warm . . . and somehow she felt strangely safe. And very exhausted.

She lay still and feigned sleep as Amy came padding softly down the stairs. She didn't feel like getting up just yet. Amy went to the kitchen and began to clatter about quietly, probably fixing up a bit of breakfast. Eventually she must have put on her boots, because the soft sock-footed padding changed to a firm clomping sound. The front door clicked open, then shut.

Probably she had gone down to help the others dig through Rouge's house. Now left in peace, Rouge sighed and stretched, gingerly flexing her muscles against the sting of bandages on burned fur and skin. She considered getting up, but thought better of it. Very soon Amy and the others would come over with their questions. Might as well enjoy her last few hours of freedom.

Rouge drowsed peacefully until Amy returned. Then she sat up and rubbed her eyes, yawning. Ave, Caesar. Morituri te salutant.

"Oh, you're up!" said Amy cheerfully, stepping into the living room. "Did you sleep well? I'm sorry I couldn't offer anything better than the old sofa."

Rouge glanced at Amy curiously. There was not a trace of unease on the hedgehog's face; merely a smile of solicitous concern. Well . . . no sense inviting the storm in, if it hadn't come yet.

"I slept great, thanks," said Rouge honestly. "Better than I have in days. Have I missed anything?"

"Not much," said Amy, going to wash her hands. "I was just out helping the guys with the . . . uh, with the cleanup," she finished awkwardly. She noticed the strange look on Rouge's face. "Oh, I'm sorry Rouge. I know it's really soon after all this happened, I didn't mean to upset you."

Rouge was not upset, however. She was puzzled. Amy was acting as if nothing had happened. Had the Master Emerald somehow escaped detection?

"I'm fine, hon," Rouge said hastily, realizing she was staying silent too long. "I was just wondering if you guys found anything in the wreckage?"

"Oh, that thing you were worried about last night," said Amy, sitting down on the sofa next to Rouge. "Sorry, but we looked through everything, and we didn't find much. Some of your kitchen appliances were still kind of in one piece, but I don't think they'll work. There were also some pieces of jewelry and stuff. I brought those home for you." She motioned to a paper bag she had left near the door. "Otherwise, we found some melted silverware, a lot of broken pipes and things. Nothing else. Was there something important you lost?" She tilted her head sympathetically.

"No, no, it's fine," mumbled Rouge, trying not to stare vacantly. Her head was spinning. No Master Emerald? It was gone? How in the world . . .

She must have failed at looking fine, because Amy gave her a concerned look.

"I really am sorry, Rouge. Don't worry, we can help you find a new house in no time, or rebuild the old one. And until then, you can stay with me as long as you need to! Everything will be all right, trust me." She stood up perkily. "Why don't I make you some tea, Rouge? Or would you like coffee?"

"Tea would be great," said Rouge, not really thinking about what she was saying. As Amy went into the kitchen and began to rattle the kettle, Rouge sank back on the sofa and clutched her head. How in the world could the Master Emerald have just disappeared? Had Knuckles taken it? Oh, come on. With a loose-hanging arm like that, he'd never have been able to carry it. She wracked her brains, then suddenly hit upon a theory. Supposing, she postulated, that the Master Emerald had been smashed? After all, when the house caught fire, it must have fallen a fairly long way when the second floor collapsed. And then it was subjected to an insanely high heat, too.

Yes, that was it! The Master Emerald had smashed during the fire, and as was its custom, the pieces had scattered all over creation. That would explain it!

Rouge hugged herself quietly. The situation was perfect! Nobody knew that she had taken the Master Emerald, and presumably nobody knew about Knuckles either. Now that the Emerald was smashed, Knuckles would probably start running around trying to find the fragments, instead of bugging her all the time. She was safe! It was amazing, how she always managed to slither out of these situations. Oh, things were splendid now; soon she'd have a new house, settle down to normalcy again, all her troubles would be over.

"Drink up!" sang Amy, strolling out of the kitchen with two steaming mugs of tea. Rouge looked at her blankly for a second, having forgotten that she'd asked for tea in the first place. Still, she quickly recovered and took the mug Amy held out.

"You okay, Rouge?" asked a puzzled Amy.

"Oh, I'm fine," smiled Rouge, sipping at the warm, sweet liquid. "I'm just wonderful, really."


The days went by. The burns on Rouge's wings and body began to heal slowly. Her mind began to grow calmer, too. During the first few days she was in constant agony that Knuckles would make an appearance, but he never did. Then for a few days she was in constant agony that he was just trying to get her to lower her guard, but eventually that slipped away too.

And it was easy to be happy. Amy was a most gracious hostess, giving Rouge a little space while assuring she was never lonely. All of Rouge's friends popped in to visit her often, too. Cream brought baked goods and gentle hugs every day. Sonic would come to ricochet around the room a few times, chattering, while Tails inquired after Rouge's health in his adorable little gentlemanly way. Silver and Blaze would play board games with her, and Big brought her a fish once. She had no clue what to do with it; truth be told, she and Amy had quite a laugh at poor Big's expense once he was gone. Even Shadow dropped in now and then, with a sardonic line or two that stung Rouge into snapping back, and a triumphant smirk teasing her gently whenever he got her to lose her temper. With him around she'd never sink into self-pity, that was for sure.

Time made her thoughtful. She began to look at her friends with a new perspective. She had called them her friends for ages, had thought of them as friends and treated them as such. Or at least, she'd thought she had. Thinking about it now, she realized she had always been a little smug, a little superior. She'd always thought herself somewhat better than Amy or Blaze or even Sonic, because she was tougher and had more street smarts. She had always loved to tease and show off and put others down a bit, flaunting her superiority. At times she had regarded Amy's innocence with a supercilious pity.

But looking at it now, Rouge felt a twinge of guilt. Tasting fear had made her humble. She saw the others being so good to her, worrying about her health and happiness, and asked herself if she would have done the same for them, one month ago. The examination of conscience was good for her; as time passed, she tried her best to be kinder and more understanding to those around her.

Eventually her burns healed. She knew she had to start doing something coherent towards finding a new house. The others had said nothing about it, not wanting to remind Rouge of what she had lost, but she couldn't just keep exploiting Amy's hospitality.

She wasn't sure how she'd feel, seeing the ruins of her old home. The last thing she wanted was to make a scene in front of anyone. As such, she decided to go at night and have a look at the wreckage. Depending on how she felt about it, she might opt to rebuild, or to find a home elsewhere. Something told her she didn't really want to hang around that place anymore anyway . . . but still, something drew her to the spot. She had to at least see it.

As midnight oozed slowly over Mobius, Rouge slipped quietly out through Amy's front door. She tested her wings, and smiled when she felt them flex as lightly and smoothly as ever. How long had it been since she last flew? Digging her toes gently into the turf, she took off.

It was beautiful. The night shimmered and hummed all around her, dribbling cool, damp air into her lungs and stabbing the sky with an occasional star. Wings barely stroking, hair ruffling in gentle ripples of wind, sharp clear energy pulsing through every milliliter of air—you felt like you were motionless in the void of space, cloaked with the chilly alchemics of some nebula.

Damn the house. It wasn't going anywhere. For now, Rouge just wanted to fly.

Her skills hadn't left her. She could still tumble and dive just as she pleased, her wings snapping sharply to pull off acute-angle turns, her knees tucking up neatly for somersaults. The old thrill of flight carried her away and blurred her perception of time, blurred her very consciousness—till before she knew it, her boots were connecting with the edge of Angel Island, already prancing as habit had taught them in the direction of the Master Emerald shrine.

She had gone four steps when realization suddenly sank a steel-toothed trap into her. Her heartbeat and breath both shot into a shallow, uneven gallop, as her muscles pulled tight over her bones.

Why was Angel Island floating?