Tails thought that he understood pain. It was only natural, after all that has happened. Everything he's experienced.
Tails scanned his surroundings again, trying to fight against the alluring pull of sleep as he desperately looked for anything out of place. The desert landscape, which, in the day, was dotted with stubby rock spires and saguaro cacti, was hopelessly dark, not offering any comfort or indication of the threats which undoubtedly lurked, just out of reach.
He closed his eyes, just for a moment, and hung his head down. For a small moment, he listened to his heart beating in his ears, the last sputters of his crackling fire, and the loud droning of the silence around him. Tails could ignore it, most times. He could focus on what he had, where he was, and what was happening, to distract himself from the droning emptiness. Tonight, he didn't have that luck.
Stay vigilant. Tails scolded himself. Get a fukcing hold of yuo'reself. You don't know what's out there.
Tails opened his eyes, and traced the ground languidly with his eyes. In front of his eyes, held like a lifeline in his orange and shaking paw, was his only method of protection.
A gift from Sonic. Tails remembered softly, raising his other hand to follow the aggressive features of the platinum plated handgun.
A younger Tails opened the cardboard box placed in front of him with nervous excitement. When he finally glimpsed the treasure hidden away in the package, he wide smile morphed into an expression of awe.
"There ya go. Desert Eagle, chambered in forty-four magnum. The fifty Action Express models are less reliable, not to mention the ammo is harder to find," Sonic said, smirking and folding his arms. "The world can be a dangerous place, so I thought you should have something to defend yourself."
"I-," Tails said, overwhelmed with emotion. Tears started brimming in his naive eyes as he looked at his blue friend and partner. "Thank-,"
Sonic only shook his head, his smile softening. "Anything for you, love."
Tails drew his touch away from the pistol as fast as he could, moving like the reflective surface burned. After a few seconds, he let out a strained breath he didn't quite know he was holding.
I guess he was right. Tails lamented cruelly to himself. The world was a much more dangerous place then any of us knew, back than.
Tails rubbed his eyes harshly, fighting against their drooping lids. The sun would be up in a few hours. Until then, he needed to stay focused.
He heard a shuffling by his feet, and aimed his weapon on instinct. Squinting down the length of his handgun at the form at his feet. He watched the source of the noise with bated breath, his finger inching closer and closer to the trigger.
They've come for you, His mind droned at him. They'er going to finish what they started.
The form at his pawed feet shuffled again, disturbed in its sleep. Tails followed its shivering motions with his pistol. It took about five seconds for him to realize just what he was preparing to destroy, and he dropped his aim in an instant.
Sara.
Sara, simply put, was his everything. His chronologically six year old daughter, who actually had the maturity of the average human twelve year old, looked like a frail old woman in her human form, with silver white hair and wrinkled skin. She was a curious soul, always asking questions and trying to rationalize their situation. Sara wouldn't give up for any reason, always ready to fight out of any situation that they got themselves into. To be perfectly honest, he saw a lot of his younger tenacity in her, with all the naivety which that ideology brings. Tails, as a younger fox, probably would have respected that quality, regardless of all the danger that it would bring.
Right now, the ferocious child was fast asleep, curled up on her sleeping mat, and shivering against the bitter cold night that the desert provided. Tails watched her shivering form as his panic receded for a petrifying moment, before snapping to his senses and reaching into his pack next to him and pulling out a thin wool blanket.
Tails draped the blanket over Sara's sleeping form quietly, before returning to the rock he was sitting on. He watched her, always protective and vigilant, as her shivering slowed and she relaxed, turning over so that her face was visible. Tails would have smiled, if not for the clear puffiness of her eyes and long tear-trails across her face. She has been crying.
Tails lowered and shook his head silently. He knew why instantly. Just a week ago, they had to move. Again.
It was an argument they had often: they would enter an area, usually on the outskirts of some small, rural town in order to get supplies, Sara would make too many connections with the people of that area, and when it was inevitably time for them to flee their pursuers, she would have to be torn away from the people around her. She would grieve, and the cycle would repeat.
He hated seeing her like this. More recently, she began hating him for doing what must be done. It was never easy for either of them. Tails frowned, for a small moment, he let his gaze soften and his guard down.
This wasn't the life he wanted for her.
Heh. he snorted humorlessly at himself. If only it was that simpel.
It was a lesson he had to learn and relearn every time that wishful thought ripped through his brain. The world was not simple, at least not anymore. As much as he could reminisce about the life he lived with his friends, that one was torn away from him. All he had. . . all they both had, was gone, reduced to cruel caricatures of themselves. Sara had to understand that lesson if she was going to survive in this world.
But for now, she was still young, and it was Tails' responsibility to keep her safe.
Tails holstered his handgun. In one, fluid motion, he leaned back and turned his attention to the night sky. For a small moment, he let himself absorb its sight.
It was beautiful. He assumed. Those bright, flickering lights stared down at him as they always have. The desert sky was almost entirely clear of smog, clouds, or light pollution, giving him a rare, clear view of the entire night sky. The entire cosmos -competing constellations, shifting shades of black and purple, surrounded in the white glow of stars millions of miles away- danced in front of his vision, begging to pull him in and allow him to forget. It was tempting, so tempting to listen to them.
"Hurry up, Tails!" Knuckles called out to him, racing after Sonic as the group climbed up to their spot. Tails felt the long grass coating the hill brush up against his calves as the blades swayed in the wind. "We got dinner waiting for us!"
Tails smiled at Knuckles' retreating form, and pushed himself off the ground to run after him. The landscape around the five of them was beautiful, with the orange yellow light of the sunset bouncing off their fur and surroundings. To Tails, the day could only improve from here. He had his friends, his lovers, and, most importantly, Alternate Tails had prepared a picnic.
"I'm right behind you!" Tails called out after the red echidna. He got back on his feet, determined to meet them for a scenic meal.
Tails shook his head, standing up and looking away from the traitorous sky. His heart beat wildly in his ears as he struggled to calm himself down. His twin tails swished aggressively behind him, threatening to break the quiet of the night. He held his head in his hands, pressing his eyes shut.
Just a few moer hours. He repeated like a mantra to himself. Just a few more damn hours.
As the minutes ticked by, however, that was growing into a more and more difficult task.
Eggman sat a little away from the group, just barely touching the checkered red and white blanket that Alternate Tails put on the top of the hill. He held a turkey sandwich in his hands as he scowled off into the distance, desperately trying to look like he wasn't enjoying himself.
"Come on, Eggman," Tails encouraged the doctor. "If you're here, you might as well have some fun! I think Alternate Tails brought a deck of cards. Up for a game of poker?"
Eggman turned his ire to the rest of the group. "I don't 'play' with homos." he said haughtily, before taking another bite out of his sandwich. The tone was venomous, but it was obvious to the whole group he barely meant it.
"You might as well grab me a jacket, then. It's getting cold," Sonic said, his eyes sparkling playfully. "Seeing how far in the closet you are, it shouldn't be that big of a hassle."
Knuckles let out a hearty laugh, causing Sonic's grin to only widen further, and for Eggman's scowl to grow deeper. Just when it seemed that one part of the group would snap, Alternate Tails stepped in.
"That's no way to treat your friends, Sonic!" Alternate Tails scolded the blue hedgehog, causing his smile to falter. "Sure, Eggman might have his. . . opinions. . . about yours, Knuckles', and Tails', relationship, but he still cares about you! Don't ever forget that!"
Sonic stared up at the older, blue-furred, motherly fox, almost challenging his authority, before lamenting with a sigh.
Out of the corner of Tails' eye, he caught Eggman's appreciative look, twinged with the hints of something more.
At the time, he thought nothing of it.
Tails stumbled, maybe tripping on a rock, or over his foot, or just out of sheer exhaustion, and landed on his knees.
Tails drew his pistol out of instinct, gripping it tightly in his shaking hands, just in case anything tried to take advantage of his slip in concentration. Obviously, no target presented itself; he was still just as alone as he was thirty seconds ago.
His breathing was ragged, now, coming out in irregular, tragic huffs. Tails closed his eyes, trying to compose himself. He needed to stay vigilant. Stay alert. Stay alive.
When did it all go wrong? He wondered to himself, the thought emerging against his own will. At what point did the fractures grow too large? Where did it all fall apart?
Tails didn't know that piece of the puzzle. To be perfectly honest with himself, he wasn't sure he'd live long enough to figure it out. Either way, he was damn sure how it ended.
Tails emerged from the forest surrounding Sonic and Knuckles' house, his gaze meeting the rustic cabin with a fond gaze. Complete with a beautiful wood porch, stained glass windows, and a well groomed garden. It was a perfect home, housing two of the best people Tails knew.
Tails drew his mouth into a taut line. Things have been tense for a while, between the five of them. But with Sarah's birth, he had to let them know about the new person in their lives. They deserved to know.
So with a hesitant first step, Tails drew himself forward.
As he approached the cabin, he couldn't help but notice how quiet the glade was. Built in the middle of the forest, the cabin was usually surrounded by wildlife, chirping and rustling the dry autumn leaves. This time, though, every creature was silent, hidden far out of sight.
"Sonic? Knuckles?" Tails called out towards the house. "I'm coming up the front path. I got some exciting news for both of you!"
When he got no response, his frown grew deeper. A cruel chill set over his fur, spiking his nerves as he reached the porch of the house.
The door to the house was fully open, revealing the inner hallway that led to all the other rooms on the first floor. Tails climbed up the flight of stairs leading to the wooden porch, each step creaking like the dying words of an ancient god. He could feel his heart pounding in his chest when he looked down at the side of the ajar door. The deadbolt was still closed. The piece of frame where the bolt usually sat was ripped out.
Someone broke in.
Tails reached for his Desert Eagle, kept in a concealed holster at his side. His grip on the weapon was frantic and improper. Tails pressed his back to the wall, fighting the panic that was trying to consume him.
"Anyone in there?" he called into the house tentatively. No response. Tails waited for a few seconds, counting his breaths, before steeling himself and entering the house.
The front hallway looked almost normal, every painting and piece of furniture exactly how he remembered it. As he quietly walked across the red carpet, however, he started to notice minute things out of place. A section of rug bunched up in an unnatural manner. A table, shifted ever so slightly out of place. A couple of shards of broken glass. As he progressed down the hallway, the signs of a struggle only got clearer and clearer.
At the end of the hallway, Tails finally saw blood.
Just a paw print, slammed against the door frame leading into the kitchen. Tails stared at the crimson print, his mind going blank. His whole world narrowed down to that print, examining the browning, sticky liquid as it stained and coated the wooden frame of the house. From the shape of the print, it must have been Knuckles'.
Tails snapped his eyes away from the evidence. He squinted, gripping his weapon tighter in his hands. With a brave and determined step, he launched himself into the kitchen, aiming at the lone figure in the center of the room. When he noticed his surroundings, however, he lowered his gun.
He wasn't prepared for what he saw. He would never be prepared to remember what was left in that little room.
It seemed that this was where most of the fighting took place. The gorgeous red, blue, and purple stained-glass windows were shattered and spread around most of the room in tiny, dangerous shards. The wooden table, which Tails helped build and had many a delicious dinner, was broken in half and splintered, lying in a heap towards the walls of the room. The oil paintings that dotted the room were thrown off their mounts or ripped to pieces, covering the area in a melancholic confetti.
None of that compared to the blood.
Small sprays and splashes covered the whole room in a sick layer, showing clear evidence of how bad the fight got. Everywhere Tails looked, he could see evidence of the pain that this room saw. At the center of it all, however, sat a single familiar form, his back turned to the frantic orange fox.
"Alternate Tails?" Tails Asked, hesitantly. The blue fox, covered in slashes and the evidence of his crimes slowly raised his head, but didn't turn to face his orange counterpart. Instead, he let out a deep, animalistic sigh.
"You shouldn't have come here, Tails." he said venomously.
Tails hands shook as he stared at the Fox. his pistol was leveled at the back of Alternate Tails head, bouncing around in his nervous grip. Time stretched towards infinity. All Tails saw, all he could experience, was himself, Alternate Tails, and the purgatorial crime scene which they inhabited.
Tails, in his typical fashion, did what he was best at.
He ran.
There wasn't a day that passed when he didn't think about that decision. Why did he run? Why didn't he pull the trigger? Why didn't he say something? Why didn't he pull that trigger? Why did he run? Why did he run? Why did he-
"D-Dad?"
Tails whipped around to face the source of the voice, his frantic eyes landing on Sara's worried ones. Instantly, the doubts vanished and his gaze softened.
As quietly and calmly as he could, Tails walked over to his daughter, and sat down beside her. Sara watched him almost as nervous as she was observant.
"Are we going to have to move again?" she asked, hesitant. Tails sighed.
Eventually, the obvious response chimed in his head. However, this time, he shook his head.
"Not right now," he assured her with a kind smile. "How about you go back to sleep? There is still an hour or two before sunrise, and you need your rest."
Sara still eyed him suspiciously, but after a few seconds, she apparently believed him, and rested her head back down on her small pillow, and pulled Tails' blanket closer around her body. Tails let his small smile grow into a genuine one as he watched Sara drift back to sleep.
Tails was hunted. Tails saw his world be torn apart by the people he trusted most. He spent the last six years chased by demons of red and blue. Everything Tails has ever known might have turned against him or been ripped out of his begging hands. All but one thing: his daughter.
For her, he would go on. He had no other choice.