*takes place after the Eclipse Cannon*

Tom eyed Sonic carefully. Something was wrong. Sure, he hadn't spoken to him in a few days, besides the occasional grunt or few words by either party, courtesy of Shadow the death harbinger - on both accounts, really, so they were both already really fucking tired, but even besides all of that, Tom could still tell when something was wrong. Blame it on his Sheriff training or the fact he's had a space hedgehog intrude on his life for the last three years.

This brings Tom back to his original musing: Sonic had a very readable face when his guard was down. "Are you sure you're okay? You seem off," Tom broached. Sonic faced him briefly and nodded to the destruction being described on the radio. As per Maddie's demands, Tom and Sonic were to stay at home—Tom due to his broken arm and fractured ribs, and Sonic due to his grounding. They were, however, allowed to garden, which they did.

"Yeah, just thinking about the cannon."Tom nodded to himself. Stupid question. "Maybe you hurt something when you fell." He continued. Sonic sighed lightly. "I'm Sonic! I don't hurt anything." He boasted - which was a big fat lie. Tom remembered both times Sonic had been flown away thanks to a bomb - and both times that amount of ribs that were damaged.
"You broke your ribs two years ago." Tom reminded.
"Ok, apart from that."
"And then again last year."
"Dude!"

Taking the hint, Tom finally left it alone. Sonic was usually a very patient creature - taking a lot of shit before he finally had enough. The first warning sign was dude, swiftly followed up by prickly quills and lightning. Tom and Maddie had once had the displeasure of being on the receiving end of those quills after a nightmare suffered by the blue creature - and the small burns they both had up their arms were enough to ward them off doing it again. Sonic stumbled a few times when walking around, but Tom put it down to exhaustion. Falling through space was tiring - he speaks as if he knows. Yet, something continued nagging at his insides.

"Hey, bud? I need you to come with me to get my ribs checked," He said. Sonic made a noise. "This isn't some trick to get me looked at, is it?" Tom rolled his eyes. "First off, I wasn't asking. Second, no. Maddie doesn't like me driving on my right now." He said. Sonic stumbled again. "Ok. For mom."

They got to the doctor's office with no issues. Tom smiled at the receptionist at the desk, smiling wider when Sonic began blabbing to a young child. "So, how is the blue justice?" Morgana asked quietly, her eyes slipping to the blue blur. Tom cleared his throat gently. "He keeps saying that he's fine, but I'm not convinced." Morgana was quiet for a moment. "He seems like his normal self." She pointed out. "You've both been through a lot. Maybe he's just tired? He's not like us, Mr Wachowski, he might process exhaustion differently." Despite the fact within her words, it was still a cruel reminder that Sonic wasn't like them - and he did process things differently. Tom hummed lightly in answer.

It was then that the child Sonic had been chatting with yelped in shock, and Sonic fell forward to the ground.

"Sonic!" Tom shouted, sliding to his knees. His ribs pounded painfully. "Get medical over here! We have a code blue!" Morgana shouted over the PA system - a repetitive code blue. Code blue blaring throughout Tom's noisy mind.

Tom turned his son over, scanning for injuries that Sonic may have hidden - which he was well known for doing. Helpfully. His chest, beneath the bright blue fur, was singed to fuck, blistered and angry. The on-call emergency team finally arrived, taking over quickly. Morgana came up behind, putting a hand on his shoulder. "Come on, Mr Wachowski. Let's get you checked out as well," Tom shrugged her off. "No, I need to stay with him." Morgana cleared her throat lightly. "You need your ribs checked before you can head back to work, Mr. Wachowski. Sonic has a pulse, so he's alive. You're currently no worth or help to him right now. Let the medical team deal with him."

His ribs were healing nicely, and he was allowed back on desk duty - thank god. Not that he didn't love his life with Maddie and the boys, but after a while, it grew repetitive. He was a man of action, not relaxation. After a gruelling few hours, Sonic was out of surgery. Tom was at his side, unwavering, for the whole twelve hours he slept. The others came in for a while, chatting to him about the success and the rewards they would receive, but Tom didn't listen.

He was too busy watching the heart monitor. It was unlikely Sonic would die, as he'd survived the night by that point, and that usually meant a good thing. He was almost more likely to run out of the room rather than die. He'd only singed his chest - everything else was fine. He'd be stiff and sore for a while, but he'd be fine.

Despite promising himself that he'd stay awake, Tom failed to account for his injuries taking their toll. He woke up, god knows how many hours later, to the room bright and a camera in his face. "You know you drool in your sleep?" Tom rolled his eyes but couldn't help the grin. "I'm glad you're OK, Sonic." He smiled. The former giggled with a small hiss and wince. "For the most part," Tom added.

Sonic rolled his eyes. "How soon are you back to fighting crime, Donut Lord?" He asked. Tom, despite being assured otherwise, was still worried about the paleness of Sonic's face. "I've been cleared for desk duty." He said. Sonic nodded as his eyes began to shut. Tom grinned. "Don't worry, princess, sleep tight,"

He laughed when Sonic narrowed his eyes. "I'm not a princess, if anything, I'm a prince… which is also incorrect."