Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Sonic collapsed against the front door when he got home. There was a tightness in his chest, a constricting feeling around his throat, that made him breathless and sick. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to throw up or eat a gallon of ice cream. Breathing deeply in through his nose, he closed his eyes and counted to seven. Then he opened them again as he slowly let go of the breath, allowing the air escape through his parted lips. Sonic stepped away from the door, his fingertips lingering against the wood for a few seconds more before he fully pulled away.

His eyes were still burning but he’d managed to stave off a full on cry all the way from Amy’s. Just barely. But he could feel the beginnings of the floodgates about to collapse. Sonic had gotten a little better at noticing the signs before he cried now. The thickness in the back of his throat, the burn behind his eyes, the tightness in his chest like someone was squeezing the life out of him. Often, though, he was still blindsided by the sheer intensity of it.

Drifting into the kitchen in a sort of haze, Sonic opened the freezer, desperately wishing he’d borrowed the plate with the cake on. He couldn’t stand the sight of it a few minutes ago, but he could do with something sweet right now to try and keep the tears at bay. After digging around for a few minutes, he finally found a half-empty box of ice lollies. Not ice cream but good enough. Sonic fished out one of the lollies and put the box back. He might need it again later. He read the lettering on the side of the bright wrapper. Cherry. Not bad but not his favourite. The apple ones were probably all gone anyway; they were always the first flavour to go. Tearing off the wrapper and dumping it in the bin, Sonic stuck the frozen treat in his mouth. It was freezing against his tongue but after a few seconds the taste hit him.

It'll do.

He dragged his body to the living room, but he lost the will to keep going a step from the settee. He lowered himself to the floor and leaned his back against the dark coloured seat. His legs were crossed, elbows resting on his knees. Removing the ice lolly to give his mouth a quick break, he leaned his head against his hand. The sugar in the ice lolly was starting to calm him down, but it did nothing to ease the hollow pit that had settled in his stomach.

Sonic groaned. He needed something to distract him. The red headphones Tails gave him last year for Christmas would be perfect, but they were still upstairs. Forlorn, he stared at the stairs for a while. If he found the energy to lift himself from the floor and go up to his room, he had a feeling he wouldn’t want to come back down. But the ice lollies were downstairs. Such a simple inconvenience; he knew that it was silly but it still mattered to him. For once, he ignored the twinge in his chest telling him others had way worse problems. He deserved to be upset every once and a while, damn it.

The headphones were more important. Besides, if Tails came back with Knuckles sooner than he expected, they’d catch him in a slump. They didn’t need to see that.

So he popped the lolly back into his mouth, pulled himself up with the arm of the settee and slowly ambled his way up the carpeted stairs. He couldn’t even find the energy to avoid the squeaky boards like usual; each one made him cringe. Every step was an ordeal, gravity fighting him all the way up the stairs. But eventually, he made it to his red-painted door. The door opened smooth, gliding over the soft pile of the carpet.

Star-painted walls greeted him like an old friend. The ombre walls and ceiling were dotted with expertly mapped out constellations. They accurately depicted the night sky as it would appear in late June. Sonic threw open his blackout curtains, also painted with stars, allowing the moonlight to give life to his far wall. His door on this side was also studded with white paint, blending into the wall. The whole interior of his room was meant to mimic the night; even his carpet was a super dark green shade, like grass.

He sat down on his bed, running his hand over the fluffy red blanket for a moment. Then he picked up the phone that was lying on his bedside table. The headphones were already plugged in; this phone was not for communicating, it was purely for playing music and surfing the internet while he was restless in bed. He was having a hard time remembering when he’d charged it last. Pushing in the power button, Sonic waited with bated breath.

The screen failed to turn on.

Sonic growled, dropping the phone back onto the table from a tad too high. The screen cracked ever so slightly; enough to be usable but still very visible. His growl deepened and he flung himself back against the bedspread. His ears had finally been defeated by gravity and that stupid achy burn behind his eyes had surfaced again.

He was already in such a fragile state of mind today. He had been woefully unprepared to hear news about his siblings. Truthfully, he hadn’t thought about what would happen when they were finally ready to re-introduce the world to their Robotropolis – Mobotropolis, he corrected. The name still felt so foreign that he couldn’t bring himself to use it. But now it was going to be a recognised city again, he should get used to it.

Would it come out that he was related to them?

Sonic whined, rolling over onto his side. His friends would hate him for lying to them about it. They’d call him a coward for leaving like he did. He was a coward. And his siblings most definitely despised his guts. The news would be over him all the time too. More than now. He’d get no peace. His life would change and he wasn’t ready for that. He didn’t want another massive change; he’d just settled into this life.

What if Tails hated him? Out of everyone, he couldn’t stand letting his little brother know. He’d kept it from him for the longest. They were so close. And Sonic had lied to his face for years. It would shatter the trust between them.

Between Tails and Knuckles, he was in danger of losing another set of siblings.

Sonic took the stick out of his mouth. He could no longer taste the cherry and, upon further inspection, determined there to be no lolly left. Without looking, Sonic threw the stick across the room. The sharp ding of it hitting his metal bin by the door confirmed he’d hit his mark. But he felt too shitty to celebrate.

With a groan, he pushed himself back up into a sitting position. Emerald eyes scanned around the room before landing on the inset, disguised wardrobe – more stars had been painted here too. After a quick mental debate, Sonic stood and walked over to it. His hand hesitated on the handle before pulling it open. Sonic didn’t own a ton of clothes, but there were a number of jackets and jumpers hanging in the wardrobe. Mostly in shades of red, but there was a blue jumper too. And a green one he hardly wore. There was a random assortment of junk on the shelf near the top. He had to stand on his tippytoes to reach what he wanted: a wooden box.

When he finally made contact with it, he pulled it off the shelf, disturbing a brown scarf resting beside it. The scarf was dragged off and it landed on the carpet in a heap. Sonic groaned, placing the box on his bed and going back to retrieve the scarf. He bent down to pick it up. But once he’d moved it, Sonic dropped it again in horror.

Half hidden by the plush carpet, the soft glint of glass.

Sonic’s whole mind shut down when he saw his medallion again. It had been years since he’d even seen it, stashed away on the top shelf of his wardrobe. It must have been wrapped up in the scarf; he hadn’t noticed it, nor had he remembered that he’d left it there to begin with. He never put it with the rest of his childhood belongings because it had hurt too much to look at. Catching the multicoloured glint of the medallion now made him want to cry all over again.

He sunk to his knees, numb to the ordinarily plush carpet. He reached out his hand, intending to pick it up, but his finger stopped millimetres away. So close to grazing the smooth glass, but at the same time it felt so far away. He had to stop himself from pulling away completely; it couldn’t be left there. The longer it stayed on the floor, the guiltier he felt. Finally, he closed the distance, fingers curling around the medallion. Sonic clutched it to his chest. The glass was silky, cold against his gloved hand. He could feel the icy sensation spreading through to his body, his heart. It had never been so cold before and it made him want to throw it across the room. But he kept it close, afraid it might disintegrate if he let it go again.

Why had he ever banished it to the shelf? Why hadn’t he put it with everything else? With the pictures, the bracelet, the guitar pick? Why had he ever left it out to the dust? An overwhelming sense of grief engulfed him. He tightened his fist around the medallion and scrunched his eyes closed, refusing to let himself cry.

He wasn’t sure how long he stayed there on the floor. At some point, he’d sat down properly, folding his legs beneath him again. After a few deep breaths, he slipped the red cord of the medallion over his head, letting it rest where it should have always stayed. His hand folded over the medallion again for a few moments. He couldn’t wear it all the time. But for now, it would stay where it was, an apology of sorts for neglecting it for so long. If his siblings were still wearing theirs, he would just be incriminating himself.

The box on his bed caught his attention again. He didn’t particularly want to relive any memories, but he was compelled to open the box. He needed to see a picture of his siblings again. Just one.

He hadn’t looked at any of the old pictures for years.

Sonic rose to sit at the foot of the bed instead. Then he set the box beside him on the carpet. After trailing his hand over the intricate, nonsense carving on the lid, Sonic pulled the key out from under his bed. It turned in the lock with a satisfying click. He opened the box and pulled out a stack of photographs wrapped in yellowing white fabric. Sonic gently untied the pink ribbon that was holding it all together. The ribbon may have been stolen from Sonia’s collection. He hoped she didn’t miss it or even notice its absence. She probably blamed its disappearance on Manic. Sonic found himself hoping she hadn’t chewed him out for it.

The first picture he saw drew a wonky smile from him. He could remember the moment clearly.

Manic, his grass-green quills all over the place, had an arm wrapped around Sonic’s shoulders. He really missed those spiked wristbands of his sometimes. Sonia was on Sonic’s left, arm disappearing out of frame. She’d been holding the camera, he remembered. Her dress was without wrinkle, quills and fur brushed down immaculately, despite the conditions. And there he was, dead centre, one gloved hand over his face, the other held out to the camera. His ears were pinned to his head, face turned to the side. Sonic allowed a sad chuckle to escape his throat. Sonia was laughing, Manic was pulling a silly face, and Sonic was dying of embarrassment. Chaos, he used to be so shy.

They’d been together for just over a week when this picture was taken. Sonia and Manic were already so close by then. Like they’d never been apart. And Sonic was just… horribly distant. He couldn’t connect with them. Part of it had been on purpose because he’d been afraid of losing someone else, afraid of allowing himself to get too close. But part of it had to have been the way he was wired. Subconscious. Because sometimes he’d found himself longing for that closeness that his siblings shared. But he could never take that step; the road was too long. What if his legs had given out before he’d reached them?

What he would give to be in that moment again. To do things differently. But then, if he hadn’t left, he would have never met Tails. Sonic didn’t think he could live without the yellow-furred genius anymore.

And he wouldn’t give the fox up for the world.

But he definitely still had problems connecting with others sometimes. Certain interactions still felt foreign, even when he’d had them hundreds of times. Some days were fine. Others were a struggle. Tails never gave him any shit for being a little aloof on occasion though. It’s not like Sonic even liked himself when he was like that either. He couldn’t help it.

Sonic flipped to the next photograph. This one was only of his siblings; he had been behind the camera. Manic looked rather sheepish. Sonia had her hands on her hips. She was glaring at her green-furred brother, mouth open mid-lecture. Manic appeared to be trying to side step away from her, like it would stop her from yelling at him. His shoes were caked in mud, a trail of conspicuous footprints ending at his feet. The snapshot was taken at a slight angle, almost hastily. Sonic shook his head. The picture had perfectly captured both their personalities in one shot. That was why he’d had to take it. Manic and Sonia, diametrically opposed, yet so very, very close.

He tucked the photo away and his eyes flicked to the one behind it.. It made Sonic’s blood freeze. What had been a gloomy but happy flick through some old memories had taken a turn.

The last picture they’d ever taken.

Manic had been the one to take this one. He was standing in the foreground, giving a peace sign to the camera and angling it over his shoulder. Sonic was over by the van, tucking some things into an old, beat up backpack. The same one that he’d left the palace with. The same one that had housed all the pictures, the ribbon, the guitar pick, the medallion, before the box had. He’d looked up, startled, at the flash. Sonia was closer to the camera, dumping a bottle of water onto the half-lit campfire. Already, a plume of smoke was rising from the charred sticks. There was another backpack at her feet. She was giving the camera a small wave.

They’d been getting ready to… This was before the… the…

The SWATbot.

He saw a flash of Manic’s wide, horrified eyes. The tears streaking down Sonia’s face as she was screaming. And then the blood came. The blood. There was so much blood. It was all a blur. The commotion had been deafening. But he could barely hear anything at the time over his own panicked breathing. And his mother.

Her head had been at the wrong angle.

Sonic dropped the stack of photos. They cascaded over the carpet like playing cards but he couldn’t even bring himself to care. He pulled himself to his feet, dashing to his ensuite. There, he collapsed against the toilet, body convulsing as he heaved out dry air. A hot wetness had gathered in the corners of his eyes, blurring his vision. The tears had finally come. Half from strain, half from emotion. Nothing was coming up. But he couldn’t get that image out of his mind. The one of her lying there, all limp and red.

Lifeless.

“Come on, Sonia. It’s just a couple weeks. You sure you won’t come with?”

“I’m not our diplomat,” Sonia replied. “Besides, Mobotropolis needs me.”

Her brother had been asking her to go with him all month. But Sonia didn’t think she could leave. While they were getting ready to re-join the rest of the world officially, there was still so much work to be done in Mobotropolis. They’d only just gotten around to the west side of the city a few months ago. Reconstruction and restoring buildings and streets took a long time, especially with their limited access to resources. That was why Manic was traveling to Central City tomorrow. To represent Mobotropolis as well as ask for assistance.

They’d hit a wall, so to speak, recently. The fixing up of the whole of the west side and half of the north had been put on hold. Manic’s job was to make an appeal to the government entity known as G.U.N. for resources. It was more proper to do so in person.

“Just one day?” he tried instead. “You don’t have to stay the whole time.”

Sonia couldn’t meet his eye. It was hard turning him down time after time. But the journey was several days. Either way, she’d be out of the city for at least a full week. The one day plea meant nothing. And he knew it. Perhaps Manic was just hoping she’d conveniently forget. Sonia may have been almost wholly absorbed in the city, but she wasn’t completely oblivious to everything around her. Granted, the exact day of him leaving had slipped her mind. It sort of creped up on her yesterday when she’d realised. She’d been faintly ill at the prospect. But it had to be done.

“Manic…”

“If you don’t mind me saying, Your Majesty,” the Oracle said. “I’m sure a day away from the city would do you some good.”

Sonia almost jumped when the old hermit opened his mouth. He was so quiet, sometimes, she genuinely forgot he was in the room. The Oracle of Delphius had officially been her advisor now for a year, only ever opening his mouth if he felt she needed help. If she asked for advice, he would happily provide. But he also encouraged her to think with her heart as well as her head, to make the choices she felt was right. The Oracle was not there to impose, only to guide. He’d made that very obvious. Sometimes, Sonia thought he might have been cowed slight by their mother’s death. Manic hadn’t been very pleased about the whole prophecy thing…

And it had been a bit alarming at first, but she’d since gotten used to his quiet support. In fact, she was grateful for his presence most days. He really lightened the burden when she was struggling with making decisions. The Oracle pushed her in the right direction subtly with calm wisdom.

“Are you sure, Oracle?” she asked. “I don’t know…”

She let her eyes wander over the Throne Room. The old one, the one closer to the entrance of the palace, was boarded up. This one was more central. A smaller room, but one without the horrible memories attached. Or the evidence of what had happened. She’d been crowned in this room, in this chair. Sonia’s hand fiddled with the purple velvet armrest, eyes lazily drifting over the tapestry of her mother on the wall to her left.

No image could ever truly do her mother’s beauty justice, but the tapestry was definitely close. Violet fur and amethyst quills. Flowing white, immaculate gown. Brilliant blue eyes filled with so much love. Love she could no longer give. And, of course, the crown; the very same that was resting between Sonia’s ears now. It was all captured so stunningly.

She wished she’d had the chance to really know her mother.

“Go, Sonia” the Orace insisted. “Make your brother happy. Mobotropolis will be fine.”

“Yeah, sis,” Manic added. “You’ve been working almost nonstop since we started! You need a break.”

Sonia was silent for a good while, weighing up the pros, the cons. Thinking about her advisor’s guidance. He had not steered her wrong yet. And her brother wanted so desperately for her to go…It felt risky and incredibly silly. But Manic would only sulk the whole time and Sonia would worry about him in his absence.

She sighed.

“A week and a half. Including the trip here and back.”

Manic cheered, grabbing her hand and practically dragging her down the hall. Sonia allowed herself to be ferried to her room to pack. She just hoped she wouldn’t regret this decision. Still, she couldn’t help but smile as Manic excitedly hovered beside her as she was choosing a couple dress options, perfume and jewellery. She tossed some essentials in the bag too, like her quill brush. And out of habit, Sonia tucked away some rope, a lighter, a torch and a canteen. Manic watched her but said nothing.

She assumed he’d done something similar. Sometimes, they were both still wired for survival even when the city was more or less safe now. But a few things here and there wouldn’t hurt. The objects were light enough and compact. They wouldn’t add too much weight or take up too much space. It was just practical, she reasoned.

Besides, Manic had refused an escort. They were on their own.

But she didn’t have to pack much; Manic was planning on taking the van anyway. Which meant their stash of explosives, travel hotplate and all their old supplies would be with them. They’d be set, like they used to be, for any situation. It really would be like old times. And something about that was oddly… comforting for Sonia. Scary but comforting. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad.

She told Manic to remember to pack his Consort crown. They’d had it specially made to designate him as Royalty for formal occasions. It would be appropriate to wear it to the meeting they were to attend. The State crown was the one that she was already wearing and would take the trip with her. They’d discovered, stashed away in the treasury, the official Coronation crown – they’d found it after her coronation, of course, since they hadn’t known about it at the time – but that one was to stay in the palace at all times to keep it safe. Part of Sonia didn’t want to take her crown with her. But she must. That would be packed away tomorrow morning, when they actually left the palace.

It suddenly hit Sonia what she’d just agreed to. She was leaving the city she was born in properly for the first time ever. Manic seemed excited about the trip. But Sonia was overcome with dread. It felt wrong, intimidating. At the same time, her brother’s enthusiasm was so infectious that in managed to quell the anxiety somewhat.

Chaos, she was actually setting foot outside of Mobotropolis tomorrow.