ARK.

It was little more than a memory bobbing along the surface of Amy's mind like a bottle cap in a river. Her thoughts sailed back to flashbacks that were wet with tragedy, only docking on main events from an era long gone:

"Can you both hear me? The ARK is close to the Earth! Please hurry up!"

"As a child, I looked up to my grandfather because of all the great things he accomplished in his life. He was my hero, and I wanted to be a great scientist like him. But...did he really mean to destroy us?"

"I don't know...but what I do know is, we all did it together!"

"Sonic? What's taking you so long? If you don't get here soon, she WILL die!"

"Just letting Knuckles pilot the ship over here was more dangerous than you could ever be!"

"It's all going according to plan; there's no reason for me to help them..."

"There has to be!"

"...Do you really think...that the professor created Shadow to carry out the revenge on all those who live there, on Earth?"

"What's the matter, Sonic?"

"Oh, it's nothing. Come on! Let's go home! To the planet as cool and blue as me!"

For two years, Space Colony Ark had been just another star on Orion's belt, and like an artifact lost to history, it was a star that no one looked at. As she turned her ear away from the old monodies of what was echoing, she blended in with ebullient citizens who were unsullied, unrazed, and unaffected by the glimmer of her adventure on the Milky Way. Her eyes were for other stars―stars that raced against the sun with red sneakers. Her heart was for other matters―matters that involved romantic dates in "One if by Land, Two if by Sea." Her brain was for other memories―memories that blurred tragic sagas to buttress the rainbows in her brain.

She'd never thought of herself as any kind of /m/u/r/d/e/r/e/r/ hero when she already had a hero to do her saving. And her hero, alas, hadn't been seen in nearly two years, but it didn't stop her from seeing his color. She saw blue in the sky when she looked up, blue in the ocean when she looked down (oh, how ironic; he hates the water, but it's as cool and blue as him), and blue on the magazines rocking a thumb's up. She missed his blueness to tears and sighs; she missed it to death and insanity!

A month before his disappearance, he would talk less, stare more, rescue off time, and disappear all the time. He had stopped acting impatient and started acting indifferent. An alter ego had encapsulated Sonic then―an entity with some kind of bipolar depression that made him bluer than blue could get. When he finally returned to her district bluer than ever before, it was reflex that made her want to crush him with a hug until his ribs cracked. Yet when she saw him, and he saw her, she had no desire to smother him with lip-glossed kisses and sobbing hugs.

Sonic's eyes didn't "wink with a twink," as she had once said about their green personality. They were these unsmiling, stale types of jade...well, things to look at! And instead of giving her a wave, his lips contorted into an upside down smirk. She rubbed her ankle with her toe in angst before looking down at her feet. This was not the type of blueness she had wanted to see. This was not his blue.

Nevertheless, to the train station they went, having agreed to see Tails months ago. She spoke and he mumbled.

'...S—Sonic...'

She walked and he staggered.

'Sonic...'

She hated brushing shoulders with him.

'Sonic...!'

She hated it when he didn't look at her.

'SONIC!'

And she hated wondering if he hated her.

'Where are you, Sonic?!'

Vaguely she knew that he was falling apart in some way. Vaguely she knew he was out of touch. With today, tomorrow, next week. Forever.

'My goodness, no! Not forever! Please don't let it be forever! Sonic!'

When they took a train into Mystic Ruins, he murmured, "Pathetic." His tone was foul as he watched the city's gray towers morph into the jungle's green trees.

That recognizable quote was used by only one hedgehog, but he was the hedgehog who Sonic was now becoming.

And Amy hated it.

Chapter Notes:

When I wrote this story, I was straight out of elementary school and suffering from complex, subconsciously locked trauma that poured into so much of my work. Some fan works in my teen years were infested with "edge lord/lady" energy that partially stemmed from that trauma while the rest came from me trying to wear "the cool girl" mask for an audience regardless of my discomfort, but I suppose much of it would've been called art therapy in another field. After I reached a certain point in my adulthood, I decided to return to this specific story and revise it into something better in either 2017 or 2018 despite the fact that no one asked me to. Here is that version saved by WintermoonQueen. It is only rated T for Shadow's canon potty mouth, some blood, and brief mentions of mental illness.