(The title of this fic comes from the lyrics of a Taylor Swift song called "Safe and Sound.")
Hello everyone! How you guys doing?
So, this is my first time writing a fic that explores PTSD and its effects on Sonic. I've done a lot of research to ensure I portrayed it in a realistic and respectful way. Since I (thankfully) don't have PTSD, it's very likely that its effects are not 100% correct or realistic. Nevertheless, I still hope I've done a good job with this, and that you enjoy the story!
(If you have any constructive criticism, please feel free to comment!)
Until Sonic was captured, he had never let his past mistakes and bad decisions weigh him down. No matter how much he had messed up in a battle with Eggman, with his friends or with his baby brother, the blue blur would simply live and learn. The hedgehog had made mistakes (which Sonic regretted, of course), but he had always accepted them as part of what shaped him into who he was.
But this time, it was different.
The war was all his fault.
How could he live past that?
Sonic had failed everyone.
And the world suffered as a result.
He hadn't listened to Tails and had charged headfirst into the fight like a fool. He'd been too reckless, too naive, and had underestimated Infinite's power. Sonic had rushed in alone, confident as always, but the battle was over before it had even begun. The world went black as fast as the mysterious masked jackal had appeared, with his little brother screaming his name.
When Sonic woke up, he was no longer on the battlefield. Instead, the blue blur was trapped in a cold, metallic cell on the Death Egg, surrounded by nothing but darkness and silence. The hedgehog had lost track of time—minutes blurred into hours, hours into days.
Infinite visited him often—silent, menacing, and relentless. He toyed with both Sonic's mind and body. Sonic tried to fight back, but without his speed or a way to escape, he was powerless. Although he endured brutal beatings and electric shocks, he always refused to let the jackal break his spirit.
But the worst part wasn't the physical pain…
It was the illusions.
Infinite would create realistic illusions of Sonic's friends, torturing and killing them right in front of him. The visions of his friends would scream, begging for help as their fake bodies were torn apart.
It was . . . just awful. Sonic could hardly describe the pain and terror it brought him. Even though he knew the illusions weren't real, the emotional impact was undeniable.
Sonic had lost count at how many times Infinite did this to him.
In a way, it didn't matter how many times he had experience this…torture. Whether it was only one time or two hundred and seventy-seven times, it was just too many.
P̵̰͌̄ͅe̶̟̞̫̐͐̒ṙ̵̘̭́ĥ͂a̷̒̈͜ps,̶̤͌͝ ̷̲̻̃̅͝S̵̮̹͗͠ǒ̶͓̇n̴̼͉̄ḯ̴̱͍̗́͝c̴͙͌̎,̵̦̚ ̵͈̘̖̅t̴̯̖̅̈́̊ȏ̸̳̽ ̵͈̟̺̇̓s̵̱͕̗̅̉ö̴̢͉́m̴͈̉͗e̵̮̒͘ ̶͍͓̞̐̈́e̴̥͆̏́x̷̞̀t̵͍̩̀̈́̌e̶̢̝̒͝n̷̮̾͒t̷̞̓,̷̢̻͖͗̄͒ ̷̨̙͛̒d̴̛͇̿̒ë̶̩́ṡ̶̿ͅé̷͍̤̎̑r̵̥̫̄v̴̟̯̊e̒̎ḏ̸̀͐̚ ̵̨̞́̓ẗ̶͓́̈h̴̗̻̭̀͗͋e̵̻͈̐ ̷̙̩͉̈́̿t̶̰̫͒̌ó̌͝ṛ̵͖͐̌͊t̊ứ̷̧͝ȓ̸̨̼̌̑ẽ̴̫̼̲̐̚.̴̤͉͓̋̈́ ̵̰͑͝D̵͉̾͝e̵̗̖̿s̄͗ȩ̸̦̿͛r̷̰̠̐̔̋v̵̨̫̲͑̓e̵͔̱̋d̵̲̍̀ ̶̫͘͠i̶̛̻̭͌̾t̴͕̝͊ ̉f̆͛͝o̴̱͕̥̔̃͊r̴͓͊ ̂t̴̘͖͎͊h̷̛͓͍͊̄e̶̢̧̺̐ ̵̞͙̰́t̴̪̱̠͝ȟ̸̢̭̉͠ouͅs̷͙̯̣̈́͆̽ả̶͍̗̟̈́nd̶̘̱͖͐̐ș̴͒̒̍ ̵̠͖͐̌ỏ́͠f̶͚̲͐͜ ̷̭͉̒́p̶̤̠̈́̔e̷̿̓̄͜ö́̓͐p̷̗̘̓̇͋l̶̥̬̝͛̄ę̂ ̴̱̭̒k̵̡̜̂͒̆͜ȉ̸̖̠̩̌͝l̶͎͇̚l̷̢̢͘ė̵̖d̵̙͎͆͝ b̷̫̩̗̐̎̑ỳ̶̤͚͂̀ ̶̘͌ṱ̸̑h̨̰̔̄͜ẽ̶̫̄͝ ̄͠ẃâr̶̨̈́.̶̻̗͑͆̔ ̶͈̟̅F̵̤̂̀̉ỏ̴̼̤͇̓͛r̷͇̦̳͗̄͘ ̷̮̜͓̍͐̐n̴̛͓̪̈́͆ō̴̱̘̂́t̊̆͊ ̈́͋̏b̀͋e̵̢͖̣̅̎͑in̶̞͝g̷̥͉̓ ̃̌th̶̯͍̓̇ḙ̵̍̒̚r̷̘̹͓͑͝e̷͕̝͓̐ ̵̡̟͈͗̏̄w̵͓͈̘͋͑̚h̆ḙ̶̜̄ṇ̶̡́ ̴͍͕͊̅̆t̷̲̠͖̾̍h̷͕͎͐ͅḙ̸͈̆̓̔ ̷͕̰̅w̴͉̰͂o̵̲̔̋̊r̶̛̲l̒͜͝d̵̫͘ ̷̮̮̒n̷͇̑̽̍ẻ̶̦̮̚͝ȩ̴̰̓͘ḑ̶̦̑͋̽ę̷̼͈͛̄͌d̴̹̐ ͅt̵̩̜̃̃͂h̦͑̌͘e̵͖̰̙͗̆̕ ̶͖́mö̵̯́̈́͘s̷̜̭͎̾͝ẗ̵̘̅.̷͚͛͘ ̶̧͉̭̄̃F̴̝̹̙̂̈o̶͍̻̰͗̆ŕ̷̠̮̞ ̶̳͂̓̈͜f̵̫̯̋̎á̵̬̇i̴͎͙̤̾̀̆l̵̟͂̈́̌ͅḯ̴̪͑n̦͛g-̴̣̜͇̇
But the worst illusions were the ones of Tails—gruesome and truly sickening. Sonic's little brother's illusion would scream as Infinite tore him apart, piece by piece. In the end, Tails' fake blood would splatter across the hedgehog's face.
Other times, his cell would flood with water, nearly drowning him, only for it to vanish just before the black points on his vision took over.
Then there were the illusions of his friends coming to rescue him.
Sonic wasn't ready for those—how vivid and realistic they felt. It made him question everything. He became unsure of what was real and what was fiction.
That was the darkest time in his life.
The hedgehog lost the ability to distinguish between reality and illusion. In those moments, Sonic felt truly lost and hopeless.
The jackal wanted the hedgehog to suffer. To break. For his whole being to shatter into a million pieces. But no matter what Infinite, or Eggman, would do to him, Sonic would never let them see any of his tears fall down. The blue blur would never allow them the satisfaction of victory. No matter what.
Only in the darkness of his captivity did he allow the tears to fall.
Sonic was not going to let them break him.
And so, he got back on his feet.
Infinite used the same illusions so frequently that it backfired. Sonic started to spot the differences between what was real and what wasn't. The illusions of his friends didn't know certain details, acted slightly different, and were always cold to the touch.
Eventually, the blue blur became pretty much an expert at detecting illusions.
But he pretended not to notice.
Even though Sonic knew they weren't real, seeing the illusions of his friends—especially Tails—gave him some sense of comfort. It helped him cope with the lies Infinite and Eggman told him: that his friends were dead, that Tails was gone, that Eggman and Infinite had dominated Mobius.
Those six months were harder than he'd ever admit.
In the end, though, Sonic reunited with his friends, helped save the world (even though he should've been there from the beginning), and the war finally ended.
He still vividly remembered the moment he saw Tails again after six months.
They hugged tightly for what felt like hours.
They cried—both of them.
The hedgehog had missed his friends, but he had missed his baby brother so much more.
He wasn't one to cry when anyone was around— in fact, Sonic can count the times in one hand he cried in front of anyone.
But, at that moment, it didn't matter.
Infinite had lied—his brother was alive and well! In fact, Tails had spent most of the war looking for Sonic. The blue blur wasn't entirely happy that his friends had let Tails, only by himself, search him during a war. But, in his friends' defense, the fox had run off on his own, disabling all communication except his vital signs.
His little brother was the only one who believed Sonic was alive.
So, Sonic couldn't exactly blame Knuckles, Amy, or anyone else for not searching for the kit, especially given the circumstances they were all in (and, besides, the kit was more than capable. Sonic just worried too much, sometimes).
For months, his little brother traveled from city to city, town to town, scouring old Eggman bases and searching every place he thought the hedgehog might be held. At the same time, Tails discreetly aided civilians and secretly provided support, in all the ways he could, to the Resistance. The fox had done so much to help others.
Sonic was so proud of him.
His brother had matured, grown, and moved closer to becoming the hero he aspired to be.
He really had the best brother in the world, didn't he?
Tails was the main reason he didn't lose his mind in that cell. The thought of seeing his baby brother again gave him the strength to carry on. It didn't matter what lingering effects Infinite's torture might have on him; as long as the kit was okay, that was enough.
And speaking of side effects…
Surprisingly, even before the war had ended, Sonic wasn't doing too badly, considering…everything, really. Of course, the hedgehog didn't come out of it without scars. He was more anxious, constantly on edge, more stressed, and less happy—just . . . duller.
Small things would trigger memories of his captivity, making his stomach turn. He had these... flashbacks, maybe? That was probably the best word for them, right?
They weren't just memories. They felt like relieving the horror all over again. In those moments, it took all his strength to keep from breaking down.
It was as if Sonic was back there…
Back to the cell where he bled.
Where the hedgehog was handcuffed.
Where the illusions of his friends were tortured.
Where the blue blur watched them die.
Where he watched Tails die in front of him.
The memories flooded back at the worst times. Like when Tails got hurt during a battle, and suddenly, Sonic wasn't in the fight anymore. He was back in his cell, watching Infinite torture and kill his baby brother all over again.
Or the time the hedgehog felt trapped in a tight space, and the cold, suffocating memory of his cell and the blue handcuffs surged back into his mind.
Or when Amy came back from a mission, sporting a few minor wounds. Nothing serious. But to Sonic, those cuts triggered a flashback of his friends screaming for help, begging for him to save them—but he couldn't.
None of it was real.
It wasn't even one of Infinite's illusions.
Just . . . flashbacks.
Every time it happened, Sonic would find an excuse to slip away—whether it was to use the bathroom or to grab something he had 'forgotten.' He'd retreat to a quiet room, hiding his hyperventilation and panic, and only return once he had calmed down.
And that's not even mentioning the first time he fought Infinite after being freed.
During that battle, he had a flashback—an overwhelming flood of memories. Infinite electrocuting him, beating him senseless, strangling him, nearly drowning him. All of it rushed back at such a critical moment. It was nearly impossible to stay focused on the present, to stay grounded in reality, but somehow, he managed.
There was no way Sonic was going to talk about any of this. Not with his friends. Definitely not with Tails.
He wasn't about to admit that the nightmares of his torture had started haunting him every night after the war ended.
It was a miracle Tails didn't hear him the first time it happened.
As for his little brother, after Infinite and Eggman were defeated, Tails had been exhausting himself, working nonstop in his workshop to assist the Resistance. He felt so guilty, believing it was his fault Sonic had been captured—when, in reality, it was all Sonic's fault. The kit had been tirelessly upgrading all of Sonic's tech, desperate to make up for something that wasn't even his responsibility.
Thankfully, Sonic had managed to talk Tails out of his guilt. After a long conversation filled with tears and hugs, his little brother finally began to understand that none of what happened was his fault. Or, at the very least, the kit was doing his best to believe that. Since then, Sonic had been watching over Tails' sleep habits, making sure he rested—something Sonic wasn't doing himself.
Tails was already too mature for his age, and there was no way Sonic was going to let him have a sleep schedule unfit for an eight-year-old. Sure, Tails was more than capable of living independently, but Sonic, legally and emotionally, still had to take care of him. While Sonic was all for giving Tails the freedom he needed and deserved, he made an exception when it came to his little brother not getting enough sleep.
'You're such a hypocrite,' a voice whispered in his mind. 'Worried about Tails not sleeping, while you haven't slept in who knows how long.'
Long ago, Sonic had accepted the responsibility of saving and helping everyone he could. He couldn't allow himself to burden his friends and brother with his problems. He was a symbol of hope, after all.
Being a hero wasn't something he had sought out—he just wanted to help the little guy. But his morals aligned with heroism, and he was more than willing to continue down that path. It just meant that he had to keep showing up, pretending everything was fine, that he was ready to kick Eggman's butt like always.
Sonic had been a hero for years. Disguising his feelings with wit and jokes was second nature by now.
But his friends noticed something was off—especially Tails. They would ask, now and then, when they sensed something was wrong with him. It wasn't enough to make them too concerned, but Sonic knew they weren't fully convinced. He just hoped his attempts at feign normalcy (Tails' vocabulary was really rubbing off on him, wasn't it?) would be enough to fool them.
They probably weren't. But they knew him well enough to know it wasn't a good idea to pressure him into telling.
Whenever anyone asked what had happened during his time on the Death Egg, Sonic would only say that he had been locked up there.
It was technically the truth.
He was getting better, though. Since the war ended, Sonic had started feeling a bit more like his old self. The flashbacks weren't as intense or as frequent.
Time does heal wounds, after all.
He knew he'd never be exactly the same as before, and that was okay! But he was getting better. Just like his friends and Tails were.
They might not be the same as they were before the war, but they were still the people Sonic loved and cared for.
He would always be there for them.
However, as the flashbacks lessened, the nightmares increased.
And after a few agonizing, sleepless nights, Sonic came up with an amazing, foolproof plan.
He just wouldn't sleep.
If his brain insisted on haunting him at night with endless dreams of his little brother dying—right in front of him, where he was powerless to do anything but fight back the urge to cry and scream as Tails' fake blood splattered across his face—then the hedgehog would simply avoid sleep as much as possible.
His plan was simple: secretly drink as many energy drinks as he could, run and stay awake as much as possible. Eggman was still MIA and would likely stay that way for quite some time. Infinite was found dead. So, eventually, the nightmares of his brother's lifeless body would have to stop haunting him.
So, despite his bed calling out for him, his ever growing headache and his growing resistance to caffeine and energy drinks, the blue blur spent hours every day helping at Resistance HQ, working with Amy, Knuckles, and Tails. He kept fighting, breaking into Eggman's bases, and freeing prisoners with his friends.
It was his way of battling the guilt.
And it helped—a lot, actually.
This way, Sonic could spend time with his friends and brother, while still running as much as he wanted.
There was no way he was ever going to stop running after everything he had been through.
During those six months, Infinite took that away from him.
He wasn't about to waste his freedom by not running. Especially now that the hedgehog wasn't sleeping, nighttime had become his favorite time to run (for obvious reasons).
Running had always been a part of him.
When he ran, he felt truly free.
Feeling the wind in his quills . . . was just the best feeling in the whole world!
Running made him feel alive.
Every morning, Sonic would go for a run, then apply some makeup to hide the ever-growing dark circles under his eyes before heading to the Resistance headquarters. Just like today, with a dull ache in his head, as everything felt fuzzy and distant.
The blue blur arrived at the Resistance HQ and grabbed an energy drink, downing it in one gulp, pretending the caffeine still had an effect on him.
It hadn't for a long time.
The base was bustling with activity. Amy led a group of volunteers, Knuckles was deep in conversation with Rouge, and Tails was focused on tinkering with... something.
Sonic blinked. For a second, it looked like the figures in the background were shifting, their faces warping into strange, unfamiliar shapes. He shook his head and everything had returned to normal.
"Hey, lil' bro! What'cha working on?" Sonic forced a grin as he approached his brother.
"Hey, Sonic! Just upgrading the communications devices. Thought it might help us stay in touch more easily." Tails looked up, smiling brightly. However, as soon as he looked directly at Sonic's face, his little brother's smile faded slightly.
"Are you okay, big bro? You look... tired." Tails' concern was evident.
The words seemed to echo. Tails' face flickered, like a broken video feed, and for a split second, Sonic thought he saw something else—Tails' eyes, cold and lifeless.
Sonic blinked...
And Tails was just standing there, looking at him with concern...
This was different than his flashbacks...
Was if he... was hallucinating from his lack of sleep?
Y'know what? That didn't matter, right now! What mattered was finding out what the hedgehog could say to convince his baby brother he was fine (when he clearly wasn't).
"I'm fine, buddy," The blue blur answered too quickly, his forced smile faltering. "Just didn't sleep well last night, you know?"
Today, Sonic felt more tired and out of it than usual. Weirdly irritated, too—something that wasn't common for him at all. And, for some reason, out of the corner of his eye, he kept seeing shadows moving, walls breathing, shapes that weren't really th-
But the worst part was how hard it became to think clearly and to pretend he had been sleeping.
"Are you sure? I don't mean to pressure you, but-"
"I said I'm fine!" Sonic snapped, harsher than he meant to. The sound of his own voice felt sharp, and everything around him seemed to tilt. Tails flinched, his expression hurt. Guilt began overtaking Sonic's heart, as he softened his tone, "Sorry. I didn't mean to snap. I'm okay, Tails. I promise."
And there he was, messing up again.
Why was he so irritated?
His little brother was just concerned. Nothing more.
"Alright... but if you ever need to talk, I'm here, okay?"
"Yeah," Sonic replied, though the words felt heavy, as he fought a sudden wave of nausea. "I know." As he nodded, his surroundings briefly warped again, Tails' face twisting into something grotesque for just a moment before snapping back to normal.
What was happening?
They worked side by side for the rest of the morning, but the usual banter between them was missing. The hallucinations were getting worse. Sonic saw flickers of things that couldn't be real—the ground shaking when it wasn't, phantom sounds, distant voices calling his name.
It was like the world was trying to break through his mind.
It seemed like his lack of sleep was finally catching up to him.
But he wasn't gonna let that bring him down. Nuh uh.
Especially not today.
Later that afternoon, the team headed to Station Square to assist with rebuilding efforts. Determined to push through the exhaustion, Sonic volunteered for the more physically demanding tasks. But the world seemed to tilt more and more, and his headache worsened. The throbbing pain sent waves of nausea through him.
"Sonic, are you okay?" Amy called, worry evident on her face and tone.
"Yeah, just peachy!" Sonic called back, forcing a grin.
He tried to focus on the task at hand, but the edges of his vision began to blur.
A splitting headache and an overwhelming wave of exhaustion hit him like a tidal wave.
Too much noise.
It hurt Sonic's ears as he fought to open his eyes. Black spots were quickly overtaking his vision, squeezing the life out of him.
And then the world tilted again—only this time, it didn't stop.
He felt himself falling, his legs giving out from under him. He found himself unable to focus on anything. Everything had become a blurry mess to him.
The last thing he heard was his baby brother shouting his name before everything went to black…
Maybe Sonic's plan wasn't such a foolproof plan, after all ;)
Also I know it's very heavily implied that illusions don't bleed, but screw canon 😍😍
I hope the pacing doesn't feel weird in this, btw. Tell me if it does, please!
And, dw, next chapter, Sonic and Tails are gonna have way more interactions (obviously lol) :) This chapter was a way for me to train descriptions lol