Dinner ended silently. After the table was cleared, Amadeus bid everyone a good rest, except for Tails. "Keep your seat, Herr Leutnant. I would like a word with you. "

At those words, Tails felt…strange. He couldn't name the feeling, because it wasn't one feeling: for his father's loss, pity; at the distinct possibility his father had heard everything between him and Sally, wariness; for the boy, the kitsune girl, his blasphemy, and his abandoned suicide attempt, raw guilt; and at the prospect that simply asking forgiveness, for all of that, an excitement he knew wasn't appropriate for the situation, at all. He tried on the stoic mask he usually wore: it morphed into simple exhaustion. " Ja, Herr Oberst."

When everyone had gone and the kitchen staff were busy cleaning and preparing for the morning, Amadeus sat beside his son. "Miles. No secrets?"

Before Tails could stop himself, he responded: "No secrets." A mad, overwhelming impulse to drop the mask and confess everything fired through him. Instead, he kept silent, allowing his father to speak his mind.

"Amelia says that you blame yourself for the boy's death."

"I…yes."

"Will you do something for me?"

"Anything."

"Don't do that. The difference between your blame and mine, is that I knew Vanilla would have difficulty in keeping the secret. I told her not to walk in the light, and I did not perform my due diligence as her husband. You told Amelia to get to safety, and it was simply bad luck that brought her, the boy, and Ketteler together. That does not lay the boy's death at your door. Is that understood?"

"Yes, Vater."

"I have one more confession to make, Miles."

"Yes?"

"I eavesdropped on you and Miss Acorn a little. I'm sorry."

Again, the impulse to confess roared through his mind. How much did he hear?

He heard all of it. He knows. He's toying with you.

Tails kept his head enough to not blurt out the question on his mind.

"Are you going to ask?"

Tails blinked.

Amadeus placed his hands atop his son's shoulders. "Miles. Are you going to ask?"

Tails swallowed. So, his father had only heard that point in the conversation. He should've felt relieved, but the tension around his skull refused to unwind. Was he going to ask? Did he really need forgiveness? Was it really so simple?

Of course not.

"Do I need to, Vater?"

"It's not a question of need, Miles. Do you want to? Is it something you truly want?"

The brothel madame crossed her arms. "Do you know how ugly you look when you cry, boy?"

Do I want it? He wasn't sure he knew now. What did it matter what he wanted? And yet…and yet…"It is."

" Sehr schön." For the first time in a very long time, Tails saw his father grin. Not a smile, not a mere upward quirk of the lips, but a warm, genuinely pleased grin. He nodded upward to the stairs. "Go now. We can discuss official business in the morning."

They embraced, and then Tails got to his feet. He paused at the bottom step. He looked up into the dark hallway, then glanced back at his father.

Amadeus mouthed Go on.

Tails felt his legs carry him up the steps.

Amy was checking her stitches in the spare bedroom's mirror. A thin coat of plasma wept from them, and she could feel her hot heartbeat in the raw flesh, but the stitches themselves looked good. She picked a flake of dried blood from her quills, wincing as the action pulled on her scalp. Tails's expert stitches held together.

She smiled. He's better at that than I am. I wish… Her smile faded. She wished Tails had been there to help her with Vanilla. He might have found the bleed, or noticed something was wrong before it even started. Vanilla might've lived. She might be here with us. Sally might not've– Amy frowned. Useless. It's useless to think like that.

In the corner of the mirror, she saw Sally beginning to pace. One of her slim hands ran slowly through her auburn hair, as if to brush it back. Combined, the two gestures alarmed Amy: it was her way of fighting off helplessness. Sally had done this the morning Vanilla died. When the contractions began, Vanilla had sent Sally on an errand for vegetables; but when Sally was gone, Vanilla ha'd told Amy that Sally's nervous pacing had made herself nervous.

The old fox's words clanged around in Amy's head. God help us. I've had enough of lies. Her frown became determined, but her voice came out soft. "Sal?"

Sally stopped, as if caught out. "Yes?"

"What was really going on, with Tails, I mean?"

"Oh. He…" she sighed, tired and regretful. For a moment, she didn't say anything. "I heard the faucet running, and I went to shut it off. I heard him. I saw him. He…" She fell silent.

Amy turned from the mirror. "What did you hear? What was he doing?"

A knock saved her friend from an explanation. Sally brushed past her to answer the door. She opened it a crack. Tails's voice, soft: "I'm ready."

"Sal, what's going on?"

Sally's eyes answered. Wait.

The door gently pushed into the room. For a moment, Amy saw her friend resist, before letting go of the knob to let Tails hrough.

His sky blue eyes were still glassy, but he seemed much more like his usual self–actually, he seemed his father's usual self. Straight-backed, self-contained, and calm. The key difference was that a gentle smile was on his face. "Amy. I'm not disturbing you and Miss Acorn, I hope?"

Though bewildered by the absurd contrast between his and Sally's demeanors, his militaristic confidence began to put her at ease. She adjusted her quills as she approached. "No, you aren't, but…" The value of the belt Tails had given her popped into her mind, and her cheeks reddened. It was more than simple gratitude for the harmonica that had prompted such a valuable gift, she knew that much. She wanted to ask him about that, but first she needed to know why the hell Sally had asked her to cover for them. "Tails, what happened?"

The confidence held, though she saw the regret in his eyes. "My apologies, but I can't tell you now."

She was looking up into his face now. "Tails, you were at the same dinner I was. We can't keep secrets from each other anymore, they'll just bite us in the arse, or get one of us killed. Tell me."

Sally put a hand on his shoulder, which he quietly shrugged away. "Amy," Tails said, "Will you do something for me?"

She didn't like that question. At all. "What is it?"

"Ask me in two weeks. By then the expedition will be in the city, and we'll all be safe."

"What does that have to do with anything?"

"We can't afford distractions just now."

" What."

Tails's tone brooked no argument. "What I'm saying is that until we're out of the Boxers' hands, we should focus solely on our duties. Allowing our minds to wander beyond them can get us killed. Is that understood?"

It was a deflection. All three of them knew it. But Amy sensed that she would get nothing more from Tails, at least not now. She resolved to press Sally for details later. "What are 'my duties', then?" Amy grumbled.

Tails's expression softened. "What you've been doing: see to the wounded, and keep my sister safe."

Amy glared at him. "Two weeks. But you'd better tell me the truth."

"I will."

" All of it."

"...I will."

When they were alone in the half-light of Tails's quarters, Sally spoke in Mandarin, and chose her words carefully: Amy might be listening. "She doesn't forget promises like that."

Tails responded in the same language. "I made no promise. My yes is yes."

"Are you going to tell your father?"

"Yes. He deserves to know."

"In two weeks?"

Tails sighed. "I don't know yet."

Sally considered. "If you're going to tell her, tell him first."

His military confidence waned into perfect glumness. He sat heavily on his bunk, as though he were wearing a monstrously overstuffed rucksack. "I will," he said quietly.

Sally sat beside him. After a long moment, she asked in English: "Are you still ready?"

Tails shut his eyes. Ten seconds passed in silence before he answered. "I'm ready."

He stood up to get on his knees beside the bed and fold his hands, but she stopped him mid-kneel, shaking her head. "No. Not like that."

"Why not?"

Sally smiled, remembering what Vanilla had told her when she saw Sally kneeling in prayer. The same words left Sally's lips. "You're not pleading the audience of a distant king," she said. "We're going to speak to The Father, who is omnipresent. He is here, with us. Sit with me."

Tentatively, Tails obeyed. Gott mit uns. The Hohenzollern motto suddenly took on new coloration in his mind. We're going to speak to The Father. To Yahweh, the head of the Godhead, the only judge, jury, and executioner that truly mattered in all the universe. Tails had always thought of Him as a sort of God in the distance, omniscient but far removed; unbeknownst to him, this was part of the reason why his prayers usually took on such a desperate tone.

She took one of his hands in hers, then shut her eyes and bowed her head, as she would during a service. To Tails, it all felt…wrong. Extremely wrong.

What blatant disrespect. He'll never listen to you like this.

Tails imitated her. His heart skipped. Then he realized he was beginning to tremble.

Never forgiveness.

She felt it. God give me wisdom. She spoke quietly, gravely. "Father, this man comes to you with a heavy and broken heart. He believes he is beyond Your forgiveness, but he wishes to ask Your pardon anyway. I would ask that You hear him out." She squeezed his hand. "Be bold," she whispered, "and do not beg."

Never forgiveness.

Tails tried and failed to still the tremors. An image of a white throne flitted through his mind, and the pierced feet of the Lion who sat in it. Though clearly flesh and fur, the feet shone like molten brass, just as Revelation described.

" Mein Herr." More images flitted through his mind, faster, faster, faster. His eyes began to heat up again. " Hilfe."

Sally heard the plea that it was. "You don't have to beg."

"I can't." Abruptly he stood, pacing to the wardrobe across the room. He stopped in front of it, paused, then came back to her. "I can't do it. All I see when I close my eyes, is fire."

I should have told him to ask earlier, Sally thought. Calmly, though wearily, she said: "Only fire?"

"The girl, the boy, an ocean of flame, His hand holding me over it, and then…" He rapidly shook his head, as if to clear away dizziness. "And then He drops me in."

The brothel madame crossed her arms. The judge had hauled him off his feet. "Do you know how ugly you look when you cry, boy?"

Sally stood. "He won't do that to you." She took his hands in hers again. "Sit with me."

Though assaulted by even more hesitation, Tails sat beside her.

"Do you believe the Gospel?" Sally asked. "That Christ is the only valid sacrifice for your sins?"

"Yes."

"Do you trust the promise He attached to that belief? That you will have eternal life, in His halls?"

"I think I do. Rationally, I mean, but…" He trailed off.

"Then He won't drop you." Into an ocean of flame, he says. Father, I could use some wisdom in this. "You shall not perish. How afraid you are, does nothing to the validity of that promise. I will stay with you, but you must ask yourself. Do you understand?"

His father's question whispered through his mind like a fall breeze. Miles. Are you going to ask? Aloud, he said: "Yes."

Sally resumed her sitting posture, head bowed and eyes shut. Tails copied her. "Go on. He won't drop you."

So she says. But you know better, don't you?

Tails frowned in concentration. She's right, he decided. For nearly eight years, he'd been afraid of whether or not God had chosen him, truly chosen him before that thought invaded his mind. Sometimes he'd wondered if that thought meant he was unelected; other times, he'd wondered if his original confession of faith, made when he was six years old, wasn't valid because how would a child understand what he was confessing?

Well, now he was making his choice. It suddenly occurred to him that an unelect, whether he nominally believed or not, probably wouldn't bother with any of this in the first place. Assured now, he made an effort to sound calm, as if he were addressing…who, then?

When you were small, did you ever beg your father to feed you?

Amadeus, of course. " Vater."

–at shall blaspheme–

The apocalyptic images returned, flitting with insane speed through his mind, more vibrant, more real, so large in his mind that he could practically feel the mile-high flames roaring up to catch him!

Don't beg. Ask.

To his surprise, the flames flickered out. He was alone in the darkness behind his eyelids. He tried to formulate a sentence that would sound proper to a prayer like the one he intended, but his mouth felt wired shut. So he prayed in silence, unconsciously folding his hands together as he did so.

Vater. I'm sorry. For the children, Ketteler, Amy, the gun, and that…that thought. I would…Do I…May I…

Tails inhaled, as if he were about to leap off a diving board. He felt his lips move, but no sound came out.

That won't do. I need to say it out loud. Come on, say it.

Go on, Miles. Say it.

"I would ask Your forgiveness, Vater."

Tails suddenly felt…light? He couldn't think of a precise term: the weight of all that he had done and failed to do was still somehow on him, but now it didn't crush him, as if someone far stronger than himself had taken hold of that weight. His mouth felt dry.

I'm so sorry.

You are forgiven.

But what if–

Miles. You're forgiven.

But…

Miles. It is finished. You are forgiven.

For all of it? Even…that?

For all of it. Even that.

All of it.

The weight on his heart lessened further. Forgiven. Tails felt lighter than he had in years, as light as he'd been the day his father had come to bring him home! Then the young fox became aware of a different weight on his right arm and shoulder, as well as soft snoring. Opening his eyes, he realized that Sally had fallen asleep. He took her shoulder and shook it, though not ungently.

Sally's eyes creaked open. "Hm?"

Tails felt his mouth split into a grin. "I asked," he stated.

Through her exhaustion, she smiled back. "Good." Her eyes slid shut, then flicked to half-open. "I'm glad. Thank God."

Tails stood slowly, bringing Sally to her feet with him. "Thank you. I don't know what might have happened if you weren't here to help."

"Are you…" She yawned, now more awake. She faced him squarely, now deadly serious. "If you are tempted to do that in any way, come to me."

Tails held out his hand. "On my honor as a Prussian."

She wasn't entirely sure what to make of that promise, but she judged him sincere. "On your honor." She shook the proffered hand, then suddenly blushed. "I fell asleep on you. I'm sorry."

"You're forgiven." He pulled her into a tight embrace. She returned it. "Thank you."

Author's Note:

Thank you all so much for following the story this far! I won't be updating further until January, to work on a special Christmas short that takes place in the same AU, fourteen years prior to this story's events. Hope you all enjoy it!