"He hasn't come home yet." she heard her son speak.
"Not in his room?"
"No. I've been checking. I've run around the house a thousand times."
She heard the worry in his voice. His friend was missing. Her son was missing.
Her elbows dug into the table with the weight of her head in her hands. She felt a burning at the back of her throat, but she couldn't break. Not now.
"Maddie? Is he coming home soon?" Her youngest asked, his voice soft, unsure.
She forced herself to pull her head up, an almost immeasurable weight on her shoulders.
"Of course, sweetie." she answered, with more confidence than she felt.
Why had she yelled at him? Why had she let her frustration get the best of her?
Yes, adjustment had been tough. Her family had grown from three to five in the span of a blink. She suddenly had three young boys, kids, to take care of, to protect, to love. She knew this would be hard. And hard it had been.
But it wasn't harder on anyone than it was on the oldest. He was such a mystery. Strong, yet soft. Confident, yet scared. Tough, yet guarded. She still didn't know much about him. Sonic had told her as much as he knew. He was an orphan, just like him. They had lost their families, at the same time, in the same battle. He had been alone ever since. Rather than be able to experience childhood, he had been thrust into a war he never asked for. He'd had to grow up in an instant, innocence gone in a flash, push himself forward to fulfill what he claimed was his destiny. He was never able to be a child.
She had tried to talk to him, encourage him, connect with him, but his walls were tall and strong and he had yet to allow even a small breach. He kept himself pulled away from her, from his new tribe. She wanted nothing more but for him to trust her. He did not. Not yet.
She couldn't blame him after what he had been through. He'd lived on the run, not able to trust anyone but himself. And at his first attempt to make a friend, to join a team, he had been betrayed, cut deeply. The wound still bled.
After about a month she was thrilled to see him start to become more involved. She tried to guide and encourage him, but his upbringing was so different, this planet so foreign, he struggled.
It was hard to watch him struggle. She had tried to guide him, encourage but correct, like she thought a mother should. But each time he seemed to become more discouraged.
Then this morning. She had heard the commotion and immediately went to investigate. When she saw the man running she panicked. Adrenaline pumping she tried to find out what happened, apologize. Her chest was tight and she felt the anger build - what was he thinking?
She had regretted the words almost the second they left her mouth. As she spoke she could feel her anger leaving her body, replaced with fear. What if he had hurt someone? What if he had gotten hurt? These thoughts were too much to bear. They lived in a precarious situation, constantly in fear that at any moment these boys could be taken away. They couldn't draw attention to themselves. They couldn't make mistakes.
She watched, and as her words and anger left her body, they seemed to flow into his. He receded, became smaller, slowly stepping back, increasing the distance between them. She stopped talking, catching her breath, and as she stood and looked at his crumpled frame, her anger turned to anxiety, anxiety turned to regret.
She watched as he continued to take small steps backward. She could no longer touch him.
"I am sorry." he said flatly. Her heart broke.
"Knuckles, I…" but her breath got strangled in her throat.
"I will take my leave." he spoke. And all she could do was reach out into empty space as she watched him turn and walk solemnly into the woods.
She did not follow. Everything in her was telling her to give him his space. She would make this right, but not now. Now was not the time. Let him think, let her think, then fix.
Morning bled into afternoon. She made chili dogs for lunch. He did not return for lunch.
Afternoon bled into evening. Tom came home. She made spaghetti for dinner and placed a plate of grapes in the middle of the table. He did not return for dinner.
She sent the boys to get cleaned up. She needed a break from their worried glances and fidgeting.
Once the dishes were done, she found herself shaking. She began to wring her hands. She began to pace. At some point Tom came in and ushered her into the kitchen chair. And that is where she stayed, her head buried in her hands, her worry and shame threatening to erupt.
"I want to go look for him." Sonic said, his voice soft but firm. "I heard the radio, it's supposed to get really cold tonight. I want to get him home."
"No, honey, I couldn't take both of you out there on your own." she answered, risking a glance at her middle child. When her eyes met his she was shocked at what she saw. The same determination that helped take down Robotnik. He looked so much older, stronger. He was not asking a question. He was telling her. Taking control.
"I can't leave him out there." he answered with only could be described as a bite to his tone. "I'll bundle up and I'll run fast. I can cover a lot of ground quickly and I'm sure we can make it home before the snow hits."
She looked at him and sighed. Argument was not an option. "Ok." was all she could manage.
She watched as he zipped off and quickly dress for the cold.
"I'm going to!" she heard her youngest exclaim. "I can help too."
"No, baby," she begged, her chest tightening. "I don't think I could take all three of you out there."
"But…"
"Please, I beg you, stay home where it's safe." She watched as he opened his mouth to argue, but immediately closed it, discouragement painting his features.
"I'm going to help look." she heard her husband say. He was holding it together so well, but she knew, on the inside, he was terrified.
"I should come with you, too." she said, her guilt pouring into her words. "This is my fault…"
"No, honey, stay here with Tails. You aren't in any state to go out." Her eyes met his with a flash of anger. He didn't shrink under the stare, but met it without wavering. "We'll find him." he said, squeezing her shoulder. "I promise."
She felt all the anger wash from her body, replaced with nothing but bone numbing exhaustion.
"Please bring him home." she begged. She felt his lips brush her forehead, then he was gone.
When she heard the front door open and close, her two boys leaving to find her third, she collapsed. Tears flowed out of her like a waterfall. Her sobs were strangled in her throat.
How could she have done this?
She barely heard the soft pitter patter of feet come up to her, but when a warm fuzzy body crawled into her lap she parted her arms and took him into them letting her tears mix with his fur.
"Miss Maddie?" the soft voice asked. "Is Knuckles coming home?"
"Yes" she answered thickly. Because that was the only response that was acceptable.