Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

His feet teeter back and forth on the edge, his tails laying limply behind him. The unkempt fur rustles slightly in the breeze; It’s been unwashed and unbrushed for days now. He just didn’t have it in him to care anymore.

He lets his mind wander as his gaze drifts below, the grass seemingly so, so far away. He estimates it to be around 200 feet down—well over the lethal drop. When he hits the ground, it’ll be more like smacking down on concrete than anything else. He smiles weakly at this, as odd as it may be.

Tails is smart. Sonic knows this. All his friends know this. Tails knows this—and yet, he doesn’t stop himself from making a decision even he himself believes to be foolish.

He chuckles a little, concentrating on what’s to come. How will his friends react? How will Sonic react? He’s laughing now, his back shaking with each snicker. His eyes begin to sting, though he pays it no mind. Not even as his vision blurs, and it sounds less like laughter, and more like heaving breaths and quiet sobs.

He wonders if they’ll plan a funeral for him, and if it would be open casket, or if his body would be too mangled after the fall; bones cracked and limbs twisted into a revolting mess of flesh and fur. Maybe they would have to go with cremation. Who would speak first? —probably sonic, Tails reasons—What will they do with all his stuff? His inventions? His workshop? Will they leave it just as it was? Like some sort of sick museum—a memory of what once was? Or maybe they’ll find someone to sell it to; forget it ever existed. They’d have no use for it, after all. He was the only techy one in their group.

He supposes it doesn’t really matter, in the end. It’s not like he’ll be there to witness it.

In his right hand, he clutches a note. He had considered making it look like an accident, at first. Crashing his plane, or losing control whilst in the air and plummeting to his demise, or slipping from one of the cliffs scattered around Green Hill Zone, unable to catch himself and fly back up before he hit the ground.

He thought about all this, but ultimately decided to just be honest. It would be good to be able to express what’s been eating at him for so long. Maybe it would bring him and the others some peace. That, and that with Sonic’s protective nature, he was sure he would blame himself. Hell, he still might, but at least this way he can address it directly—which he did. Somewhere in that note he had asked Sonic not to blame himself.

He steadies himself, bringing the note up to his chest and holding it there. He blinks back the still-falling tears, and tries to take a deep breath, though it’s shaky and odd, gasping part way through the inhale. He exhales unsteadily, his breath shallow.

The awful pit in his stomach grows and sinks deeper as he glances down again, the reality of the situation seeming to crash down on him. He’s going to die. He’s going to die.

His heart races, crashing against his ribcage as if it’s a trapped animal trying to claw its way out of its cage; each pulse thunders through him like the strike of a hammer on steel. The blood that rushes in his ears is deafening, except for the sharp ringing sound that pierces his senses. He’s sure he’s shaking now, legs trembling with wobbly knees, though he can’t really feel it—No, his hands and feet are burning numb, like they’ve been engulfed in ice for hours now, the feeling in them almost completely gone except for the dull sting and tingling in his digits. Bile rises in his throat, though he swallows it back down, the sour taste lingering on his tongue.

He couldn’t slow down his thoughts, his mind spinning like a carousel on loop, the images circling in his skull until it made him dizzy, too fast for him to catch. His lungs burn like a wildfire. Was he breathing? He wasn’t sure if he was breathing anymore. There’s no direction in this cogitation, only constant movement, inverting and falling, his thoughts tripping over themselves one after another. He thinks about the memories he’s made with his friends, the battles they’ve fought—and always won—the late nights he spent working on gadgets and doohickeys, and his friends’ excited reactions, or lack thereof. He thinks of the long, late night conversations he’s had with Sonic, the times they laughed until they couldn’t breathe and their stomachs ached from their joy.

He thinks of the first time Sonic called him his best friend. The times he told Tails how important he was to the team. The first time he met sonic. How Sonic Saved him. How he saved Sonic.

What is he doing?

His lungs claw for oxygen, and he forces a gasp, the air tearing into his lungs like a tidal wave, his breath returning in desperate, choking gulps. He stumbles backwards, throwing himself back from the edge, but his back slaps against something before he can drop into a sitting position.

What?

“-ails!”

Someone’s there. Whose voice is that?

“Tails…?”

It sounds familiar—like a match on the coldest night of winter, warming him from the inside out. The ringing subsides a little.

“Tails, buddy—please say something.”

The voice is shaky, cracking half-way through the sentence with a desperate whine.

“Miles…”

Sonic.

Tails blinks, tears stained in damp patches of fur down his cheeks.

When he tries to speak, no words come out, only a horrible, choked sounding noise. He leans forward, giving himself the room he needed to turn around and look up at his older brother. His older brother, who was shaking, his eyes filled with unshed tears.

Tails doesn’t think he’s ever seen Sonic cry, let alone get close to crying.

“I—” He starts, but can’t finish, his voice breaking into a half-sob, half-gasp.

Before he can try again, he’s pulled into a hug, Sonic’s arms wrapped around him like a lifeline. He’s so, so warm. The coldness melts away from Tails as he holds him, his spiraling thoughts finally slowing.

The note lies somewhere on the grass, forgotten.

He knows this isn’t something he can avoid talking about with Sonic once they’re home. Not anymore, at least. For weeks now, he’s been avoiding his pitying looks and gentle questioning, asking when the last time Tails had eaten was, or if he was feeling okay.

Thankfully, Eggman’s attacks had slowed over the last little while. However, this left Tails with far too much time alone with his thoughts. It would be hard not to notice how he isolated himself into his room or workshop, even if he used the excuse that he had to plan ahead; if Eggman was silent, then something bigger was coming. And he was planning ahead, in a sense.

He would change the subject as quickly as he could whenever his mental state was brought up, whether it was directly or implied.

He thinks maybe he’s okay with this, though. Maybe it’s time for him to be honest.

Chapter Text

The walk home was silent except for the soft pairs of footsteps on the grass, the occasional flicky flapping its wings or tweeting along their path. Tails could feel eyes boring into his skull. The pity was suffocating.

He had started to keep count of the glances in his direction, now. Within about 5 minutes, Sonic had looked over at Tails 24 times. Approximately 5 times a minute, give or take. He could practically feel the worry radiating off him in waves. He wasn’t sure if he should mention it—maybe try to ease Sonic’s nerves—but he ultimately decided against it. It likely wouldn’t do anything to soothe the other after what he just saw, anyway.

For the rest of the walk, Tails stares numbly at the ground, kicking softly at the rocks he would come across. A few times he sees Sonic’s hand move towards him hesitantly, but after a slight flinch and tensing of muscles from Tails, it always retreats before any touch. He chooses not to bring that up, either.

The silence is unusual; especially given who it’s from. If Tails knew anything about sonic—and he knew basically everything about Sonic—it was that he liked to talk. He was an endless supply of witty quips, clever jokes, and one-liners. Yet now, the only sound that could be heard from him was quiet breaths.

What was also concerning was that they were walking. Sonic The Hedgehog, the fastest thing alive, was walking, instead of simply picking Tails up, and racing home.

These facts made the pit in his stomach return, his chest growing tighter with each minute Sonic was reticent.

The door opens, the hinges creaking and echoing throughout Tails’ silent house as Sonic motions for Tails to head inside. He glances at Sonic once, then steps in and off to the side, allowing room for the other to come in as well. His expression was far too soft, too warm.

Sonic is kind. Sonic is patient. Despite Tails’ full knowledge of this, he can’t help but feel like something is coming—a lecture, an argument, a myriad of uncomfortable and sensitive questions—and he feels his breathing pick up a bit more as he goes through the what-ifs and anxious ramblings in his head.

Each breath he takes feels shallow and stolen. His stomach churns with a deep sinking sensation, like he’d missed a step in the dark and was waiting for the ground to catch him, only it never comes. He can’t shake this feeling, even as he attempts to reassure himself that it’s going to be okay, that he just needs to breathe and count to ten.

1… 2… 3…

His counting is broken by Sonic’s voice; it’s strangely gentle and quiet, as if he spoke too roughly, Tails would break.

“Could we talk for a bit, bud?”

Something in his tone tugs at Tails, reaching through what seemed moments prior to be an impossible barrier. The world around him, which had just felt so far away, unblurs and fades back into view. He blinks up at Sonic once, twice, three times, then slowly nods.

He doesn’t sound angry, or disappointed. He simply smiles and motions for the younger to follow him into the living room.

Sonic sits on the far end of the sofa first, allowing Tails to choose how close he sits to Sonic, which ends up being on the complete opposite side. His tails rest on either side of him, the tips of them coming up to rest in his lap, which he fiddles with and brushes his fingers through, staring nervously at them.

Sonic waits for a moment, giving the fox kit a chance to talk if he wants to, but when nothing comes of it, he speaks up.

“Tails, before we get into any of this, I want you to know that I love you. I don’t tell you that enough, and it’s something you should—need to know.” He sighs softly, glancing at the other, who still has his gaze focused on his lap. “You’re my best friend, Tails. My baby brother. One of the most important people in my life. I don’t…” He scrunches his eyes shut for a moment, almost in frustration, trying to get a grasp on what he wants to say. “I don’t know where I would be without you. And I don’t ever want to know.”

At his words, Tails looks up from his lap at Sonic and tries his hardest to ignore the stinging in his eyes and the tightness in his jaw.

“I know you’ve been struggling. I know. I see it. You know I’m not good with feelings—that’s always been Amy’s thing—and I’m sorry.”  He continues, taking an unsteady breath, “I’m sorry I wasn’t more persistent, I’m sorry I didn’t…” He trails off, looking to the floor. “I’m sorry I let you down, Tails.” His voice sounds so broken, the way it shakes and gets higher the longer he talks. It sends a pang of guilt straight through Tails, and his vision goes blurry with unshed tears.

“You didn’t…” Tails whispers, blinking back the dams threatening to overflow in his eyes. “You didn’t.” He repeats. The air is thick under the weight of the situation, and they fall into a heavy silence for a moment. Neither move, only breathing softly and sniffling, uncertainty filling their environment.

Then, without a word, Tails surges forward, launching himself into Sonic’s arms, almost desperately, and slinging his own around his big brother, pulling him into a tight embrace. Sonic’s response was almost immediate, holding Tails in return just as tightly, his grip firm and warm. For a moment, it felt like even though Tails’ world was crumbling beneath him, Sonic was there, single-handedly catching it and holding it up when he needed him most. Tails lets out a shaky breath, but it comes out as more of a choked sob, and devolves gradually into hiccups and weeping. He tucks his head down, resting it on Sonic’s shoulder and dampening the blue fur with his tears. Sonic could not care less even if he ended up soaked. His little brother was still here, and that’s all that mattered to him.

They didn’t have to say anything anymore—not for tonight, at least. There was certainly more to be talked about, but it had been a rough day. The silence spoke more than words ever could; a promise that even if everything hurts, Tails won’t carry that weight alone. That even when everything else felt lost, they still had each other.

Tails isn’t sure how long they stayed like that. What he does know is that the next day when he wakes up, he’s tucked safely into bed, the covers pulled over him, and there’s a… burning smell wafting in under his door, presumably from the kitchen, from which he can hear faint mumbling and clambering.

Sunlight slips into his room in thin, golden lines, striping his bed and casting a warm glow on the room. Tails squints a little from the brightness, stretching his arms up towards the ceiling and flexing his fingers open, into a fist, and open again. Soft light glints on his claws, which he realizes are ungloved—Sonic must have taken them off for him when he put him to bed.

He shuffles forward, bracing his upper body on his elbows, and takes a quick glance around the room, spotting his gloves on his bedside table, folded one on top of the other. He peels himself out from under the thick covers, and scoots to the edge of the bed, letting his legs dangle off the edge, along with the ends of his tails. He yawns, his eyes watering and scrunching shut, while small fangs pop into view.

He pushes himself up and off the bed, placing his feet on the cool hard-wood floor and quickly grabbing his gloves, tugging them on silently. The little black bands slap into place over his wrists so they don’t fall off, still a little loose on him even after all these years.

He crouches and fishes a pair of socks out of his dresser, slipping them on and stepping into his shoes. When he turns and chances a glance in the full-length mirror, he frowns a little.

His bangs, once styled deliberately, hang limply between his eyes, oily at the roots and frayed at the ends. His fur remains messy, tangled in some of the longer areas. His fur looks thinner than usual, he notices, and when he meets his own eyes, he sees they’re rimmed in red, tear stained, with deep purple-ish-toned crescents beneath them, dull and tired looking.

He sighs, closing his eyes and turning away from his own reflection, unable to bear looking at it anymore.

He takes a deep breath in, stares at the length of his door and summons the courage to face Sonic after last night’s events, lets it go, and presses forwards, turning the handle.

Just as the door swings open, a high pitched, incessant beeping begins. After a moment of confusion, he realizes this is likely the smoke alarm. Tails peers out from the hallway, seeing Sonic scrambling around the stove—which is not on fire, thankfully, but does have plumes of smoke emerging from it—as well as an array of messy bowls, spills scattered across the counter, and a plate of sausages set off to the side. A soft smile paints Tails’ face, and he makes his way over to the fire alarm.

He spins his tails back and forth in quick succession, hovering until he makes it high enough to press the ‘test/silence’ button. He notices a glint of light just beneath the vents that lead into the smoke alarm’s inner mechanisms, but after staring at it for a moment, brushes it off as unimportant.

 It takes longer than he’d like to admit for him to gain enough speed to actually make it into the air, something he never had a problem with before. He’s felt a little weaker, as of late; more fatigued.

When the beeping stops, Sonic spins around, spotting Tails just as he lands. He puts on a bright, beaming smile, and waves excitedly at the younger.

“Tails! Good morning! I cooked—” He turns, facing the splatters of pancake batter and bowls. He grimaces at the mess. “…Tried, to cook breakfast. The eggs are ruined, but there’s pancakes and sausages.” He flashes a toothy smile, placing a hand on his hip. After a small pause, he squints, mumbling something mostly incoherent about opening a window.

Tails takes in a deep breath, trying not to cringe at the burnt smell, and steps forward to meet Sonic by the counter. “…Thanks, Sonic. You, er… really didn’t have to do that.” His voice sounds raspy; whether this is from all the crying last night or because he just woke up, he isn’t sure.

Sonic shrugs, opening the window by the kitchen sink to air out the smoke. “S’ no big deal, bro.”

It is, though. Sonic doesn’t know how to cook, which is made glaringly obvious by the hotplate that was nearly set on fire, and the charred eggs in the cast-iron frying pan thrown into the sink. Despite this inability, he not only cooked breakfast for Tails, but also stayed the night, made sure he got into bed at a reasonable time, held and reassured him, and less than an hour before that, he—

Tails stops that thought in its tracks, shaking his head and snapping his eyes shut. Sonic is here because he cares, not because he feels obligated to clean up after Tails’ mess.

Maybe if he tells himself that enough, he’ll start to believe it.

When he blinks his eyes open, Sonic is staring at him, his brows furrowed, and his lips pulled into a frown.

“What ’cha thinking about, bud?” He questions, his voice hesitant, and oh, Tails would love very much to tell him, but he isn’t sure how to put it gently. Maybe, ‘I know we’ve had this discussion multiple times in the past, and that you keep telling me I’m important to our team, but I continue to feel utterly useless and like you’re constantly getting me out of messes, which I’ve only managed to prove in the last 24 hours.’ Or maybe, ‘Well, Sonic, I’m not exactly sure what brought on this bout of emotions, but lately I’ve been wondering if the people back on West Side Island were right, and I am just a freak, something that never should have been born!’ Or maybe even—

“Tails?”

Right. He’s been staring into the void for a hot second here. Probably best to answer before he gets even more suspicious.

“…Nothing important.”

Sonic’s frown deepens at this, but he doesn’t push the subject any longer.

Tails realizes rather quickly after sitting down that the idea of taking so much as a bite of the food laid out in front of him makes him feel violently ill. He’s not one for wasting good food. Really, he isn’t. But even as his stomach clenches painfully and releases, letting out a quiet growl, he can’t bring himself to pick up his fork, only staring blankly at the plate.

It’s not that there’s anything wrong with the food. No, it looks great, and if he ignored the faint burnt smell that was still lingering even with the open window, it smelled delicious too. His appetite just isn’t what it used to be. He’s not sure when it changed, when he started skipping breakfast and dinner; but it’s hard to break the habit.

He must have been watching the pancakes intently for about 5 minutes now, studying the way they crisp at the edges, the little trapped air bubbles frozen at the top after being cooked into place. He finally wills himself to pick up his fork and knife, cutting one of the pancakes into small, precise squares.

Sonic had gone through the trouble of cooking them for him, he wasn’t going to let them go to waste, even if he had to force them down. He had buttered them and drizzled syrup overtop—but not too much—just for him, the way he’s always liked them. They were probably cold and a little soggy now after absorbing the toppings and sitting there. It doesn’t matter; he tells himself. It doesn’t matter.

He pierces a piece with his fork—maybe a little more aggressively than necessary, but who cares—and slowly brings it up to his mouth. He places the piece on his tongue, and slips it between his teeth, puncturing it with his canines and grinding it until he can swallow.

Despite the fact that he was right and it is cold and soggy now, it did go down a lot easier than he expected. He takes his time with the rest, eventually moving onto the sausage, which he eats about 3 quarters of.

There’s still a quarter of a sausage left on his plate and half of the second pancake pushed to the side, but when Sonic collects his plate, he doesn’t seem angry or disappointed in the slightest. Rather, he smiles and mentions something about plans he has next week with Amy to go shopping. He doesn’t bring up how it took Tails nearly 40 minutes to finish what he did, or the amount of time he spent just staring at the food.

The faucet turns on, water rushing and filling the sink as Sonic cleans their dishes and the cooking utensils he used. Tails focuses his gaze directly ahead of himself, his brows furrowing and lips pursing. He can’t quite comprehend why his brother goes through all this trouble just for him, even when he isn’t co-operative, though he supposes it’s always been that way.

Sonic is the selfless type—when it comes to people he cares about, at least. Tails should be used to it by now, sure, but with being outcasted for the first several years of his life, it’s still hard to accept having someone throw everything else out the window just for him.

He isn’t sure if he’ll ever get used to it, really.

The rest of their day seems to go by… relatively smoothly, all things considered. Sonic doesn’t seem keen on leaving Tails by himself, however—which is valid, he thinks, though it would be nice to have some time to himself—and Sonic decides to spend the night again. He blames it on Tails’ home being much nicer than the little shack he has, but Tails knows the real reason is likely that he’s scared he’ll try flinging himself off a cliff again if Sonic leaves him.

He spends the majority of his day watching TV with his brother, reading comics, or tinkering with his newer inventions, for which Sonic follows him into his workshop to observe.

He was unbearably jittery and full of questions the whole time, until Tails told him he could take a run; that it would be fine, he’d stay right there, safe in the comfort of his workshop the whole time.

Sonic had seemed hesitant at first, but ended up agreeing, getting some of his energy out before returning shortly after.

Now, the sun had begun to set, casting a pink-ish-purple glow through the windows scattered throughout the little home, where the two brothers lounged on the couch, mostly silent as they tuned out some romcom Amy had recommended a few weeks back. The writing was bland and too quickly paced, in Tails’ opinion, but he wasn’t going to tell Amy that.

Occasionally, one of them would crack a smile and roll their eyes at a dumb joke, or comment on one of the character’s actions, sporadically listening back in.

Tails yawns, stretching his arms high above his head before letting out a deep breath. He pushes himself up and off the couch, using the arm of it as support. “I’m gonna head to bed, I think.” He mumbles.

Sonic nods in acknowledgement. “I think I’ll turn in too.” His voice is soft, an edge of sleepiness seeping into it.

Tails pauses for a moment, turning back to look at his big brother, who still remains sat on the couch. They meet each other’s eyes, and Sonic tilts his head in question, letting out a small ‘mm?’

The younger shuffles a little, holding one of his arms at the elbows and turning his gaze downwards. He pauses for a moment, trying to get a handle on his thoughts and turn them into words.

“I wanted to… Thank you. For last night. And today.” He looks up to Sonic, who has his attention focused completely on Tails and his words. “You…” He trails off, shutting his eyes. “You’re the one I thought about, when I… backed away. From the edge.” He blinks, training his vision back on the other. His voice breaks a little when he speaks again, “I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry…”

Sonic stands, takes a step forward, and opens his arms, smiling softly at his little brother, who happily accepts the embrace, his arms coming to rest on Sonic’s back.

“I’m trying. I promise.” He mutters, his voice higher than usual and a little shaky.

“I know,” Sonic replies, his voice gentle. “It’s okay, buddy. That’s all I ask, is that you’re trying. I’ll be here with you the whole time, every step of the way.”

Tails internally scolds himself when he feels his eyes watering again. Don’t cry, don’t cry, don’t cry.

Sonic doesn’t pull away until Tails does, breaking the hug. He sniffles, finding himself smiling weakly as he looks up at his brother. “Good night, Sonic.” He whispers.

“Good night, Tails.” Sonic replies, tone warm and kind.

Tails falls asleep easily that night.

Chapter Text

Tails has had a sinking feeling in his stomach since the moment he woke up.

This isn’t unusual for him, of course, but this felt different somehow. Something is wrong, though he can’t quite put his finger on it. Something in the air is too still, too silent. He swears he can feel eyes boring holes into the back of his skull, yet when he glances back, nobody’s there. He’s unable to shake the sickening, crawling sensation squirming through his spine, nor the sense of dread creeping up on his nerves. A pressure settles on his chest, heavy and aching, and it gnaws at the back of his conscious throughout the day.

He feels like he’s missing something, like he’s left the oven on, or forgot to lock his doors. Everything had been going so well—He’d been so anxious to talk with Sonic, only to be met with patience and kindness. He wasn’t angry. He didn’t yell, or ask Tails what he was thinking. He was gentle, holding his little brother as if, to him, he was his entire world and more.

So why did everything feel so much worse all of a sudden?

The thought leaves a sour taste in his mouth, like rotten fruit he’d forced down his throat. It lingers, even as he trudges to the bathroom and scrubs at his tongue and teeth in circles with his toothbrush until his gums are enflamed and bleeding. The gross flavour of the morning is replaced with something metallic—iron, he internally remarks. It’s bitter and faintly salty, and honestly not much better than before. He does his best not to gag as he gathers a small pool of water in his ungloved hands, sipping it to rinse his mouth and spitting it into the sink.

He watches the deep cherry red swirl and circle the drain as the water runs, the viscous fluid gradually becoming thinner as it mixes with the water and washes away, the toothpaste making small bubbles before slipping into the pipes below. While the water still pours, he bows his head, placing his open fingers under the stream and bringing them up to rain over his bangs and face, soaking them. He blinks away the stray droplets, turns off the tap, and looks up at the mirror attached to the medicine cabinet.

The dark circles are a little less noticeable today, he finds, the bags under his eyes smaller after finally getting a good night’s sleep for the first time in what felt like an eternity. Despite feeling well rested, he has almost no memory of his dreams—just small snippets. Flashes of light and mumbled words, eyes and glitching tv screens. It’s strange to him. Maybe he should start keeping a dream journal.

His bangs cling to his forehead uncomfortably, messy and dripping, and he pushes them off to the side of his face.

Quick tap-tap-tapping footsteps down the hall indicate Sonic is still here, not having left since the first night everything happened.

Not that Tails… minds, exactly. It would be nice to have a bit of time alone, of course, but he gets it. He knows why Sonic is still here. And maybe it’s best that he isn’t left alone with his thoughts for too long.

Still, it makes his gut twist with guilt, seeing how much he’s inconvenienced his brother. He’s sure he’d rather be off on a run, or reading some comics, or whatever else he does when Tails isn’t around.

He unclenches his jaw and smooths out his expression as the footsteps arrive just outside the room, and he quietly slips on his gloves and pushes the door open, the hinges squeaking quietly. He’ll have to use some silicone spray on them—he’s sure he has plenty stashed away in his workshop.

His workshop… He should head over today. He’s sick of feeling useless, hidden away in this house.

When the door opens, Sonic is tapping one of his feet rapidly, his hands on his hips, and his usual cocky grin splayed across his face. It becomes a little more genuine, though, when they lock eyes, and Tails lets his lips curl up a fraction in return.

“Morning, Tails. How’d you sleep?”

“G’morning, Sonic.” Tails replies, putting on the happiest tone he could muster—which must have been quite obviously fake, given how Sonic’s expression falters for a moment. “I slept okay, thanks. Do you… usually wait outside the bathroom for people?” He chuckles—and God, that sounded wrong too, didn’t it? Be normal.

Sonic squints, smiling a little and going along with his question with a ‘yeah, you know me’.

After a moment of awkward silence, Tails speaks up; “Did you, uh… Need inside…?” He asks, stepping outside and into the hall.

Sonic shakes his head, mumbling a small “nah,” and trekking quickly to the living room. Tails brushes it off as Sonic getting lost in thought—not all too uncommon for him.

“Tails?” Sonic calls, staring at the front door. His tone sounds… off, somehow.

“…Yeah?” He replies slowly, curious, but cautious. He makes his way out to the living room as well.

“Would you wanna head out together? Meet up with Amy n’ Knux? I thought we could do something fun today, get your mind off of,” he gestures with his hands in small circles, “everything going on.”

He... isn’t sure. His immediate instinct was to say yes—but the thought sends anxiety careening through his heart. He opens his mouth to agree, but hesitates, glancing between Sonic and the front door.

His fingers twitch at his side. He closes his mouth, and shakes his head.

“Maybe another time? I,” think, think! “I wanted to go to my workshop today—and you know how I get when I’m focused on a project.” He smiles. It feels wrong on his lips. “Sorry.”

Sonic recovers quickly, “No need to apologize, bud, that’s fine with me. Y’mind if I tag along?”

Tails cringes at this. Don’t get him wrong—he loves Sonic. A lot! Like, a lot, a lot. He’s the best big brother Tails could have ever asked for. But Sonic is also… eccentric, at times. Loud. Talkative. Messy. Not exactly the best for an environment where he’s working with small mechanical parts. He is, however, a great test subject! He never minds any of the danger involved. He’s actually the first to volunteer, usually.

So, he thinks about it for a moment.

“Sure,” he decides. “Just, y’know, be careful.”

Sonic waves him off, “I’m always careful.”

“Uh huh.” Tails rolls his eyes fondly, and again, finds himself genuinely smiling.

Getting out the door was, frankly, an unreasonable struggle. Tails isn’t quite sure what’s wrong with him—a lot, he’s sure of that—or why he stared at that handle for so long before finally opening it, but the second he got close enough to touch it, it was like someone—something—was shouting at him to stop. Give up, go back to bed. Try again tomorrow.

But Sonic, brave, kind, patient (that’s a new one!) Sonic, was there, waiting for him. He was there waiting for him to do something he’s probably done millions of times before. Open the door, go outside, face the world like the person he was a few years ago. Bright eyed, excited to live, ready to try. And if there’s one thing Tails is good at, even now, it’s trying.

So, he tried.

In the coming days after a near-death experience, the world seems much more beautiful, he thinks. The way the sunlight hits the trees, dappled light scattering across the grass in pretty gold and green hues, how the flickies tweet and chirp as they pass, flapping their little wings and singing, the wind brushing through branches and long tufts of grass, a slow, soft dance…

He thinks he would have missed these little things a lot.

Maybe his perspective is still a little dimmed—his problems won’t go away overnight, of course—but he’s finding some things a little easier than before.

The feeling of being watched eases a bit on the way to his workshop, and for the first time in forever, Tails breathes without such a heavy weight on his chest.

The moment ends, however, when Sonic walks into the workshop backwards, hands behind his head, going on about something Shadow had said to him that he thought was weird—‘he talks so… pretentiously. Half the time I can’t even tell what he means!’—when he trips over some stray tools laying on the ground, and falls over backwards with a harsh clatter and thud. It takes everything in Tails not to snort at the sight.

“Always careful, huh?” He laughs, flipping on the light switch.

“Zip it.” Sonic chides, chuckling softly as he peels himself off the ground.

“You’re lucky I don’t have cameras facing over there.” Tails mumbles, heading over to his work bench as sonic trails behind him. He smiles to himself, wondering if one of the further ones might have caught his little fall. He’ll check later.

“Yeah, yeah. What’re we working on today?”

“Eh…” Tails thinks for a minute. “I’ve been between a few different projects. Mostly better engines and power cells, combat stuff and some higher-tech communicators.” He speaks, pushing blueprints, rough sketches, and small parts to the side of the work bench, leaving a clear area in the center. “Sorry, ‘s nothing too exciting.”

Sonic nods, giving Tails his full attention, though he fidgets a little with his hands and taps his foot. “Sounds plenty exciting to me. What d’ya need me to do?”

Tails hums, “Actually… I was thinking about testing out something I’ve been working on. It creates artificial gravity fields using centrifugal force, and allows the user to emit and manipulate the gravitations of…” He glances over to Sonic, who seems to have understood maybe the first 5 words of that sentence, standing there with a dumfounded look. “…That’s not important. Wanna make things levitate?”

“Is that even a question?” Sonic grins, crossing his arms.

Tails smiles, crossing the room to grab the device, and getting to work.

When Tails finally gets home, Sonic in tow, it’s dark out. His stomach aches—Sonic had ran to get food about halfway in, but he couldn’t find it in himself to eat much of it. He has a bag slung over his shoulder, bringing home some of that silicone spray and a few small gadgets to work on.

He realizes, as they walk, that he hasn’t taken a good look at the stars in a very long time. The moon is a waning crescent tonight, giving minimal light, the land around him cast in a dark purple-ish glow. The stars blink tiredly down at him, twinkling and fading in and out, while the brighter, bigger ones stay constant illumines dots.

That had always been one of the things he found most beautiful about the world. It’s rare, now, that he finds the time to enjoy the little things that used to bring him happiness.

A lot of the time, when he sees things he used to enjoy, he doesn’t feel… well, anything. It’s just another aspect of life.

…Does he have a right to feel that way? His life is good. He has good friends, he’s found a family, a roof over his head, he—

“They’re pretty, aren’t they?” Sonic interrupts his inner dialogue.

…What?

“What?”

“The stars.” Sonic hums, staring up at them. “That’s what you were looking at, right? You stopped walking, n’ you were staring up at the sky.” He pauses for a moment, then glances back down at Tails. “Y’know, I’ve never paid too much attention to them. Everything moves so fast, and if I don’t move too, I feel like I’ll miss the important stuff.”

Tails is silent for a moment. Then, “It’s nice to take things slow, sometimes.”  Fireflies blink silently in the distance, small balls of light illuminating the bushes where they hover.

Sonic nods. “Yeah. Dunno if I’ll ever get the hang of that, but… Maybe the important things are what we don’t always notice.” It’s quiet for a moment, only crickets chirping in the background and a soft breeze brushing against their fur. “Anyways, we’d better get home. I dunno about you, but I’m pretty hungry.”

Tails thinks Sonic continues to talk, probably about what they’ll have for supper tonight, but he isn’t really listening, still stuck on what he said. ‘Maybe the important things are what we don’t always notice’?

Huh.

He lets out a little sigh of relief when they get home, and Sonic rushes inside, already rummaging through Tails’ fridge and cupboards.

“Dude, you have, like, no food in here!” He calls out, before settling on some frozen meals. “You want pizza, or uh… chicken cutlets?”

Tails’ ears twitch, and he remains quiet for a few moments before answering. “I’m not that hungry. I’ll eat later. You go ahead, though.”

Sonic looks back at him, eyes locking onto his with a stern expression. Tails has… rarely been intimidated by Sonic. It’s a little scary, though, how he looks at him like he just killed someone.

“Haha…Ha…” Tails chuckles awkwardly, looking off to the side and fidgeting with his namesakes, suddenly finding brushing his fingers through them very interesting. “Pizza’s fine…”

Sonic smiles, turning back to the freezer and pulling out the box. “I won’t set off the smoke detector this time.”

Tails smiles, rolling his eyes and waving him off. “Better not.”

While Sonic rips open the box and puts the pizza in the oven, Tails gets to work with the spray he brought home, wandering around the house, testing all the doors and spraying the hinges that gave any resistance or made any squeaking noises. He leaves the can on his bedside table, placing his hands on his hips. He was fairly productive today, he thinks proudly.

High pitched chirping comes from the hall, and he sighs, closing his eyes. “Sonic!”

“It wasn’t me! Its batteries must be dying or something!” He calls out, voice defensive, and appears at the end of the hall just as Tails steps out.

Tails nods, humming. “Could you grab me some batteries?”

“Sure thing bud.” He replies, and he’s gone in a—literal—flash, before returning empty handed. “Where are the batteries?”

“Left side in the storage closet. Top shelf”

He leaves and comes back in less than a second, “What type?”

“Double A, two of them.”

And he returns for the third time, handing the couple of batteries to Tails, who takes them with a quiet, “Thanks,” and flies up, pulling the cover off the smoke detector and taking a look.

The batteries are as they should be, but—

“What’s that?” Sonic asks, looking up at the exposed parts, hands on his hips.

“I don’t…” He trails off. In the center of the smoke detector lays a small, black, rectangular device, messily—and likely hastily, based on the look of it—attached with… Duct tape?

He tears the device off as well as the used batteries, both of which he hands to Sonic below. He puts in the new batteries, reattaches the cover, and quickly descends, where Sonic hands him back the small device.

“I don’t recognize this at all…” He mumbles, removing the duct tape from across it and taking a better look at the surface. There are tiny screws in each corner of the panel, and along the surface are small but long holes, thin vertical indents like a grate. He flips it around, taking a look at the back—which is flat, aside from the small receiver. His heart drops low into his stomach, and suddenly, he feels a lot less foolish for being so paranoid today.

“Sonic,” He mutters, “Could you get me a small star head screwdriver? I should have some on my desk.”

Sonic only nods, racing away and returning a moment later with the screwdriver.

Tails unscrews the panel and, cautiously, removes it, being careful not to tug the wires still attached. He gets to look at it for maybe 3-4 seconds before a low beeping begins, slow at first. He just stares at it for a moment, before the beeping begins to get faster and faster. His eyes widen a comical amount, and he nearly drops the device in his panic as he begins to run.

“Tails, what is—”

“Bomb!”

“WHAT?”

“BOMB!”

Tails sprints as quickly as he can to the front door, using his tails to rapidly propel himself forwards, opening the door and throwing the device as high and as far as he possibly can. He puts his hands over his ears and steps back.

It explodes midair with a loud ‘boom!’, lighting up the night and breaking into what has to be hundreds of tiny fragments, which proceed to scatter across the grass. Sonic is right next to Tails when he looks back with a small sigh.

“You usually keep bombs in your house?” Sonic asks, mimicking Tails’ words from earlier.

“Yeah, you know me.” He mimics back with a tired expression, walking back inside.

Another relentless beeping starts from down the hall, sending Tails back into a panic, before he realizes what’s going on, seeing a plume of smoke traveling through the kitchen. He huffs, turning back to face Sonic.

“Oh, don’t worry Tails, I won’t set off the smoke detector this time!” Tails impersonates Sonic, putting on a deeper voice.

Sonic snorts, running past him and, in quick succession, taking the (burnt) pizza out of the oven, turning the oven off, and grabbing a blanket from the living room, then racing back into the hall. He fans at the smoke detector with the blanket, flapping it around wildly until the beeping stops.

They ended up ordering takeout that night.

Sonic had put on some movie that Tails wasn’t paying attention to whatsoever; rather, he was thinking about the device he had found implanted in his own home, which should have been completely inaccessible, given all his security measures. When had anyone even gotten the chance to get in? He’ll need to go over his surveillance tomorrow morning.

What even was it? It couldn’t have just been a bomb—that must have just been a precaution so that he couldn’t figure out what it actually was, should he find out about its existence. Maybe some sort of listening device or speaker? That’s what the grate indicated at least, but he can’t be sure. Any chance of figuring out what it really was is gone now, evident in the little plastic and metal pieces all across his lawn. He was too careless, too hasty. He should have taken it back to his workshop to check it out.

He barely touches his food, eating a few bites maybe, but otherwise just picking at the noodles and vegetables, moving them across the takeout box until it looked like he had eaten a convincing amount. He was grateful for the movie, providing enough background noise to distract from the rumbling coming from his stomach. He felt disgusting.

The sinking feeling in his chest, present since the morning, only intensifies as the night goes on. All he can think about is what he found, and how that probably isn’t the only thing planted around his home.

“Sonic?” Tails calls, and Sonic pauses the movie immediately, putting his own food to the side.

“Yeah, buddy?”

“Can we sleep somewhere else tonight?” He asks, voice a little nervous. He places his hands in his lap, fidgeting and keeping his gaze down to them. “I don’t… I don’t think it’s safe here. I’ll check around some more tomorrow, when there’s more light, but I’m almost certain there’s more of those things, and—”

“Tails,” Sonic interrupts, voice soft. He places a hand on his shoulder. It’s warm, heavy and grounding. Tails looks back up at his big brother, and the anxiety eases a fraction. “I don’t mind, really. We can find somewhere else tonight.”

Tails nods slowly. “…Thanks.”

Sonic only smiles at him, patting his shoulder before removing his hand, instead ruffling his hair for a second, then standing. “You should eat some more. I’ll ask Aimes if we can stay at hers tonight, ‘kay?”

Tails perks up a bit at this—he hasn’t seen Amy in… four days? five? He’s not sure. The days tend to blur together now. He nods again, and Sonic rushes past him into the hall, presumably to make a phone call to Amy. Meanwhile, Tails stares at his food a little longer before leaving it where it sits, and heading over to his room. He packs a small bag: extra socks, toothbrush and toothpaste (after quickly heading into the bathroom), brush, headphones—specially made to fit his ears, one of the inventions his friends all loved when he made them pairs—blanket and a pillow, and his communicator.

From outside, he hears a faint “Thanks, Aimes, you’re the best. …Yeah, we’ll see you soon.” Then, closer now, “Alright bud, we’re good to go whenever you’re ready.” He calls out, his voice a little muffled behind the door, “I’ll have to stop at my place to grab some stuff, but I’ll only be a minute, tops.”

Tails opens the door. “Alright.” He replies, slinging the bag over his shoulder, his pillow under his arm.

“Be back in a jiff!” Sonic smiles, and speeds out of the house, the force sending a small flash and wave of air throughout the little house, making Tails blink while his bangs sway. It takes maybe 30 seconds for him to return with another gust of air and flash of blue, backpack in hand. Tails had only just made it to the living room.

“Ready?” He asks, placing his free hand on his hip.

“Ready.”

Chapter Text

Before Sonic can even knock, the door swings open, Amy rushing out and pulling the two into a bone-crushing hug. Tails forgets just how strong she is, sometimes.

“Tails! Sonic!” She beams. She’s wearing a set of loose-fitting, matching pajamas, fuzzy and light pink, almost white, with a pattern of big bows in a brighter, more saturated pink all across the fabric. The top, a long sleeve, has a white babydoll collar, and an actual bow in the center, matching the pattern. It tickles Tails’ nose when she pulls him and Sonic into her arms, and he relaxes a little into her firm grip.

He smiles, expression softening, and for just a moment, she manages to force his thoughts to drift away from the worries plaguing him. He lets out a quiet sigh, wrapping his arms around her in turn, Sonic doing the same.

“It’s so good to see you guys! God, Tails, it feels like it’s been forever since I last saw you!” She pulls back with a toothy smile, releasing them and chuckling a little as they stumble from the swiftness of the loss. “Come in, come in! The guest bedroom is all set up for one of you, but someone’ll have to take the couch.” She talks as she turns and heads inside, making little gestures with her hands all the while.

Her face is covered in a pale green face mask, her quills pushed back and out of the way with a soft pink, fluffy elastic headband, a small bow attached to the top of it. It matches her pajamas perfectly. Her claws are filed down short, painted a bright red—a stark contrast to the tan of her arms and the baby pink colour of her paw pads. It’s uncommon to see any of his friends without their gloves or shoes, except for the rare occasions when they sleep over at each other’s homes.

“Oh,” Tails begins, “I can sleep on the—”

“I’ll take the couch!” Sonic interrupts, stepping forward and setting his backpack down next to a short, deep cherry coloured end table as they enter the large expanse of Amy’s living room. It’s filled with dozens of framed pictures, paintings, and little decorations she’s gathered over the years. A little lamp on the end table keeps the room illuminated, along with another floor lamp on the other side of the huge pink sectional in the middle of the room. It casts a warm glow over its surroundings, the soft light complementing the red and pink colour scheme.

Before Tails can counter Sonic’s volunteering, Amy speaks up again, “Sorry, I didn’t get a chance to clean up before you boys got here.” She clasps her hands together in front of her chest, turning to face them as she stands in the center of the room. She turns her gaze over to Tails, “You’ve been through a lot today, Tails. I haven’t heard all of it, but…” Her voice takes on a softer tone as she speaks to him, “The rest of the story can wait ‘til tomorrow. You should get some rest.”

Tails stands still for a moment, processing slowly. He… is pretty tired, actually. He nods after a few seconds, and Amy approaches, placing a hand on his upper back, her paws soft against his fur and skin. “Come with me.”

She leads him slowly to the guest bedroom, flipping the light on for him. He’s probably been there a hundred times by now, but he still appreciates her walking him to the room. He sets his bag down on the floor, just next to the bed. It’s a queen size, complete with a rosy-pink set of floral patterned sheets, peach-toned pillows and a thick, heavy comforter laid neatly across the top, tucked in at the sides. The bed skirt is a similar colour to the pillows and comforter, decorated with ruffles and little ribbons across the top. Across the cream coloured walls are a few paintings—mostly consisting of warm toned landscapes. The room is, otherwise, minimally decorated, with most of Amy’s belongings being scattered across the rest of her home.

It’s a little taller than Tails’ bed back home, taking a little more effort to crawl up onto, but he doesn’t mind. He lets out a quiet sigh of relief as he hops up onto the plush mattress and kicks his shoes off, his tails resting on either side of him. “Thanks, Amy. I, uh…” He trails off for a moment, his eyes darting between hers and the carpeted floor beneath him. “I really appreciate it. You letting us stay here.” He finishes, and his gut twists a little. Amy’s… a really good friend. Sonic’s phone call to her couldn’t have lasted more than two minutes—she agreed immediately, welcoming the both of them with open arms—quite literally.

He's not surprised, of course—this is Amy. Sometimes it’s just… hard to accept that people would go out of their way to help him, and then continue to apologize for not doing more; or in this case, cleaning up before they arrived.

It was spotless, anyways. He supposes Amy just likes keeping things extra organized. That, or she’s just being humble.

She flashes him a gentle smile, patting his shoulder. “It’s nothing, don’t worry about it. Sleep well, Tails. And let me know if you need anything, okay? I don’t care how late it is, or if I’m sleeping. Just knock on my door ‘til you wake me up,” she responds, a soft laugh escaping her.

He nods silently, returning her smile, though it’s a little wobbly, his chest swelling with warmth and something else he can’t quite put his finger on, though it’s familiar.

“Good night, Tails.” She whispers, stepping back and flipping the lights off.

“…G’night, Amy.”

The door closes, and the room plunges into deafening silence as the footsteps outside fade from hearing range—and he is, once again, all alone with his thoughts.

He can’t sleep.

Not that he hasn’t tried—no, he has. For hours.

He flips over again where he lays, hoping that maybe this time, he can focus on something other than the fact that everyone he loves is probably in danger because he allowed someone to bypass his security and plant a literal bomb in his house—probably more than one! That, and that it probably wasn’t just a bomb. Were they being watched? Recorded? Just how long had that thing been in there before he found it?

He grumbles under his breath, letting out a frustrated groan and peeling himself out from beneath the covers. Water. He needs water. His stomach hurts, and his chest aches, and—and now he’s complaining to himself. Talk about desperate, geez. Water will help at least the first part of his problems. He frowns in the pitch darkness, feeling his way around the bed and to the wall, where he slides along it, using it as a guide until he makes it out of the room.

The stove light is on, acting as a night light and softly illuminating the room and the little hall outside the two bedrooms and bathroom. Shadows litter the walls from various appliances and objects placed across the counters, including the knife holder Amy keeps stocked full. He stares at it for a moment, a strange feeling washing over him. His heart feels like it’s somersaulting inside his ribcage. He pulls his eyes away and back to the oven.

The stove clock reads ‘4:52’. He sighs.

A door creaks against its hinges, and out comes light, slow footsteps.

“Tails?” Amy calls with a yawn, voice sounding a little lower with drawn out words as a result.

He turns around quickly, looking her in her eyes—she’s visibly drowsy and blinking slowly, like she’s having trouble keeping her eyes open. She has one of her hands against the rounded arch leading into the kitchen. The face mask from earlier is gone, but her quills are still neatly pinned back with her headband.

“Sorry,” Tails begins, and her ear twitches at his voice, squinting in the dim light. She looks down at him, her face taking on a slightly confused expression. “I was just grabbing some water. I’ll get out of your way,” He mumbles, reaching for a cup from the cupboard. He nearly drops it on the way down, his hands clammy and a little shaky from exhaustion. Stupid body.

“Oh, no, tha’s fine, take your time. I jus’ wanted to check on you… Can’t sleep?” She responds, her voice groggy and quiet. Her words slur together, and she does another slow blink down at him.

He only nods.

“Tails?”

“Y… Yeah…?” He replies without looking up at her, forcing out a chuckle and turning the tap on whilst moving his glass under the faucet.

“There’s a water cooler to your right, if you didn’t want tap water. Lots of metals an’ minerals in our water that make it taste… icky, right? I think tha’s what you said before.”

“Oh.” He whispers under his breath, pouring out his cup and turning off the water, then slipping over to the water cooler, filling his glass about one third of the way up. He stares down at it for a long while.

“Tails…” Amy speaks up again, voice sounding a bit more awake now.

“Yes?” He answers, probably a little too quickly. He glances back at her—and there’s that same expression Sonic wore the other night—riddled with concern and pity. He feels like throwing up.

“What… What’s wrong? What’s been going on with you?” She asks him, and he swears he feels his heart leap into his throat. “Don’t tell me it’s nothing. I know it isn’t. I can see it, clear as day. It’s written all over your face, your body language, it’s—…There’s something going on, isn’t there? …What is it?” She asks, and she sounds so worried, her brows upturned and lips pulled taught into a light frown.

He looks away from her, blinking away the stinging in his eyes. This is—just, really not the time for him to be talking about his feelings. He has more important things to worry about right now, and if he focuses on anything else, he’s sure he’ll break down; which is embarrassing, and makes him feel childish, and then he has to explain himself and talk about why he’s sobbing because someone wanted to check in on him, and—the list goes on.

So instead, he settles on, “Can we… talk about this tomorrow?” His voice sounds wobbly and pathetic, cracking halfway through. He cringes. “…Please?”

Her frown deepens for a moment, and she somehow looks even more worried than before, but she obliges, nonetheless. “…Okay. Okay.” She sighs softly, resting an arm against the counter, only a few feet from Tails, now. “I’m not trying to interrogate you. I’m only asking because I care, Tails,” she assures, smiling weakly at him. “We care. Sonic has been worried sick about you the last few weeks,” she continues, her tone gentle but firm. “I have been, too.” The last part is softer, just a little above a whisper. She reaches out a hand towards him, resting it on his shoulder. It radiates a bright warmth against his skin, and he finds himself shaking, just a little. Stop that. Not now.

“…I know.” He mumbles, turning his gaze away and blinking away the wetness that threatens to spill out of his eyes. He feels like a baby.

“Oh, Tails…” She mumbles, pulling him into another hug—it’s not as forceful as the earlier one, but it has the same effect on him, soothing his worries a fraction. He sniffles, wrapping his arms around her back.

“…’M sorry.” He murmurs, his voice pitchy and weak. He feels warm tears beginning to trickle down his cheeks, and internally berates himself, forcing them to stop. He blinks them away quickly.

“Why are you apologizing?” She asks, pulling back a little to look at him and sliding her hands to his shoulders instead—to which he averts his gaze, turning his head to the side.

“I…” He begins, opening and closing his mouth, though no words come out for a while.

Amy is silent, allowing him to gather his thoughts, encouraging him with a kind smile and slow, soothing circular motions on his shoulders. He pulls his hands up to his chest, twining his fingers together and fidgeting with them.

“I don’t know.” He mumbles finally. “I feel… guilty, I guess.”

“Why do you feel guilty?"

He pauses at this, glancing back up at her with tired eyes. He scrubs at them, moisture coating his paw pads, calloused from years of tinkering. When his eyelids flutter open again, she’s looking at him with the same patient smile. He sighs.

“I just think… there’s a lot of important stuff going on. Today was proof of that. I’ve been distracting everyone when—when there’s so many more important things to be focusing on.”

“You think you’re less important than what’s going on?”

Yes.

“…No. But my stuff can wait. I’m not gonna do anything stupid again.”

Amy tilts her head, “What do you mean?”

Ah.

He wasn’t supposed to say that.

“…Nothing.” He shakes his head, heart hammering in his chest, “I’m just saying that, uh, we should focus on other things. My feelings aren’t important in this.” He says with a forced smile, stumbling a little over his words, praying she doesn’t catch his little lie of omission.

“Sure they are.” She counters quickly, her voice coming out tenderly, but with confidence. Tails looks up at her, his features contorting in confusion. “Why can’t we focus on both things at once? We love you, Tails. You aren’t just our tech guy, you’re our friend. It’s natural to feel… down, sometimes. But if that goes on for too long, and you feel like you have nobody to talk to about it…” She pauses for a long while, then, “I understand what it’s like to feel… alone. Or, to feel like you don’t matter, or like you’re inconveniencing the people who care about you.” She gives him a small pat on one of his shoulders.

“But you aren’t alone. You aren’t inconveniencing us. You, and your emotions, and what you’re going through—it all matters.” She stops for a second before asking, “Is that… is that what you’ve been worried about?” She asks quietly, her eyes softening.

He doesn’t even register the tears forming in his eyes, nor when they begin to fall. He only nods after a long pause; silent, aside from a small sniffle.

Amy nods in return, still smiling at him, and pulls him back into a hug. He buries his face into her shoulder, and she soothes a hand through the fur at the back of his head, little hiccups and sniffles being muffled against the fabric of her pajama shirt. God, he must look pathetic right now. He’s nearly 15—get it together!

She waits for him to pull away first—and when she does, she doesn’t pressure him to keep talking; she only asks if he’s ready to try and go to sleep again. He agrees.

She walks with him back to the guest bedroom, and sits on the edge of the bed after he crawls in. She pulls the covers over him, smoothing them out until they lay neatly over top of him.

He chuckles, though it sounds strange, turning into more of a gasp towards the end—he hates how weird his breathing gets after he’s cried. “…’m not a kid anymore, Amy. You don’t have to tuck me in.”

She rolls her eyes fondly, giving him a little flick on the forehead—which receives a playful swat and a little ‘ow!’ from Tails. “Hush. You left your water, by the way. Do you want me to grab it for you?”

He nods, “Yes, please. Thanks, Amy.”

She smiles at him before leaving the room, coming back moments later with the glass and a coaster. The glass is full, now. She places the coaster, then the glass down on the bedside table with a small ‘clink’.

“Good night, Tails.” She whispers, slowly backing out of the room.

“Good night.” He mumbles, smiling at her as she leaves and softly closes the door.

He opens his eyes to a harsh, blinding white.

Something is wrong.

He tries to call out—to ask where he is, to shout for his friends—only to find his jaw stuck shut, a muzzle bounding it in place. Cold, steel wires are snapped tight around his snout.

He looks around, his gaze darting about frantically. There are chains bounding his hands and feet. He shifts uncomfortably on his knees, though he’s unable to stretch his legs or change his position much without falling onto his side.

Be rational. Figure out where you are, assess the situation, and go forward from there.

The white of the walls is so bright, it’s hard to see where one begins and the other ends. It smells like a hospital room, sterile and freshly cleaned with a chemical unfamiliar to his nose. Fluorescent lights hang overhead, buzzing with untamed electricity. They flicker violently, until—

CRACK.

One of the tube lights shatter, shards of glass dispersing across the room, raining down on him. He closes his eyes, attempting to shuffle backwards.

His back hits the wall, and when he opens his eyes again, he’s falling into a black void, the white of the room fading from view quickly as he descends. He screams, the sound muffled beneath the muzzle.

He hits the ground hard, knocking the wind out of him. A searing, dull pain shoots through his occiput, and he coughs, the noise coming out choked and strange through his shut mouth.

Eventually, finding the strength to sit up, he looks around the void, attempting to get a grasp on the new surroundings.

Straight ahead stands a short, leafless tree. It’s long dead, its branches dry and crumbling. Perched upon the nearest branch to him is a single crow. Upon closer inspection, he sees its left foot is gone.

When he blinks again, the scene shifts to a bloody, mangled mess of severed blue and beige limbs. Crimson viscera is strewn about, some hanging limply from the branches. Grey matter is splattered across debris and charred quills, while a pair of red and white sneakers lay a few feet from the scene, buckles torn off.

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W̷̪͓̎̄ḧ̶͍̤͊̐͌̚y̸̛̼̳̝͐͆̍̒ ̸̪͎̌̀ǎ̷̲̪̌̂́r̶̺̭̰͝é̷͍͓̇̓͝ ̵͈̺̟͖̀̇̏ỹ̶̮̗̩̣̼͋͛͆ō̶̢̝̥͙̰͆͒̄͝ṵ̶̹̀̃́͘ ̸̯͚͐ś̵̢̰̣̆̓͘t̵̛͓̻̒̃̓i̴͖̭̽l̸͖̃̄́l̸͇̟̼͎̜̿̔̍͋ ̵̣͙͔͇̓̑h̴̢̗͑͠è̷͎̦̗̻r̷̡̩͉͙͐̋̇̓̎ė̵̡̯͑͑̈̐ͅ?̸̲͋

Tails wakes up with an ear-shattering scream, shooting up from his place in bed covered in sweat. His fur is damp, his paws cold and clammy, clenching tightly around his tails. His body is freezing, yet too hot at the same time. His stomach churns, and he gags, covering his mouth with his hands.

Before he can even blink, Sonic is there by his side, the door flung wide open.

“Tails?! What’s—" He calls, and Tails gags again, his eyes watering, while Sonic’s own eyes widen. He grabs his little brother under the arms and carries him into the bathroom—quickly, but gently, making sure not to agitate his stomach any more than it already is.

He drops to his knees in front of the toilet, hunching over it and dry heaving. His stomach feels as though it’s twisting and flipping around violently, a pulsing pain ripping through his insides. Bile rises in his throat, and he vomits, a sickening, choked noise leaving his throat as he empties the—minimal—contents of his stomach.

Sonic kneels next to him, pulling his bangs back, as well as brushing back the fur around his snout. He continues gagging, the pain in his abdomen worsening, though nothing more comes up, leaving him heaving over the toilet until his body decides he’s endured enough torture.

He spits one last time into the soiled water, coughing a little before pulling away and reaching for the handle, missing it twice before he grabs it and twists downwards, the fluid flushing away within seconds.

Amy knocks gently on the doorframe, peeking her head inside the room. “You okay, Tails?” She asks, holding up a glass of water. He turns to look at her, his head pounding. He raises a weak thumbs-up. She kneels next to the two, bringing the glass to his mouth. “Rinse and spit, ‘kay?”

He listens, sipping the water and swishing it around in his mouth before spitting it into the toilet, the nasty taste easing a tad on his tongue.

“Thank you…” He mumbles, his voice scratchy and low. She smiles at him, though her features remain concerned.

Sonic wets a face cloth and brings it up to his mouth. Tails flinches away, holding up his hands in front of his mouth, shielding it. Sonic tilts his head, confused.

“I’ll… ruin it...” Tails mutters quietly from behind his hands, his gaze meeting the floor.

“We can always wash it, Tails. I don’t mind if you use it.” Amy reassures, placing a gentle hand on his back.

He thinks on her words for a moment before he removes his hands from over his mouth, and sonic dabs away at it, cleaning him up. His eyes water, and he blinks rapidly, turning his eyes up to the ceiling.

“…I’m—”

“Don’t apologize,” The two interrupt in unison, and Tails scrunches his eyes shut tightly, doing his best to keep his emotions at bay.

After several long moments, Tails stands, clutching weakly at his stomach. When he stumbles, the others catch him quickly, holding him up and steadying him on his feet.

“You okay, pal?” Sonic inquires, leaning over a little to see Tails’ face—he looks absolutely exhausted, his eyes drooping, dark circles and bags beneath them. His fur is beginning to look a little thinner.

Tails nods after a moment, blinking away the rest of the wetness in his eyes.

“Good.” Sonic replies warmly, reaching out a hand towards Tails—which he takes after a second. Sonic gives it a gentle squeeze. Tails squeezes it back.

“I…” Tails croaks out, his throat dry and burning, “I think I need to go for a walk.”

Sonic hesitates at this, looking a little nervous all of a sudden. “Are you… sure that’s a good idea?”

Tails nods.

“How about I come with y—”

“Sonic, please...” Tails begs, looking at him with a pleading expression, and Sonic feels his resolve begin to shatter. “I just—I need some time alone. Please.” He pauses for a moment.

“I understand you don’t trust me right now, but please, just… ‘m not gonna…” He trails off, glancing between Sonic and Amy. He makes a tiny gesture forward with his chin, hoping to get the message across without revealing any prior events.

Sonic stares at him for a few seconds, while Amy looks confusedly between the two. Sonic studies his expression a bit longer, before letting out a sigh, closing his eyes, and nodding when he opens them again. “Be safe, okay? Take your communicator with you.”

Tails flashes a tired smile at him, “I will.”

Tails turned his live location on, sharing it with both Sonic and Amy respectively. His communicator lays strapped onto his wrist for easy contact, Sonic on speed-dial.

He hadn’t intended to go back home. Really, he didn’t—but his feet moved on their own. He blamed it on his mind not being all there; somewhere between reality and his inner consciousness. He hadn’t even realized he was back until he made it to the door.

The world seems far away, like he’s watching his life through a screen on the lowest brightness, the graphics grainy and choppy—or a VHS tape, skipping past important things that he should be paying attention to.

He should have gone to his workshop—at least then he could do something useful while taking his mind off everything; off how trapped he felt, off this morning and the disgusting taste lingering on his tongue, off that dream.

He feels sick to his stomach just thinking about it. He’s sure that image will be seared into his memory forever.

He finds a framed picture of him and Sonic when he enters, and all he sees is red, mutilated remains. Sonic’s eyes are unblinking, unmoving. It’s just like—

Stop.

He turns away from the photo.

While he’s here, maybe he could check around for any copies of the device he found the night before. That’s a good idea, isn’t it? Then, since it seemed to only have self-destructed once the front panel was removed, he could study it more carefully. He won’t make the same mistake again—he’s going to figure out what’s going on.

He trudges forward, bumping into corners and ledges as he goes. He doesn’t register the sensation, even as it stings and begins to bruise under his skin.

He checks his bedroom first—looking under his bed, behind pictures hung up on the wall, inside vents—there!

He pulls another small device out from the vent, not minding how the meal scrapes against his arm as he removes it. He reattaches the vent cover and stands, studying the small object. It looks different from the last one, he thinks. Maybe? His memory is foggy., getting blurrier the more he tries to wrack his brain and remember.

That’s two he’s found, now. One still intact. He’s sure there’s more, he just has to keep going.

Just keep going. Focus. Use that brain you’re so proud of.

He continues searching the bedroom a little longer, finding one more inside one of his desk drawers—how did he not notice that? —before moving on, checking the kitchen, then the living room, and finally, the bathroom.

…Thankfully, there wasn’t one in that last room.

Six all together, not including the broken one. Maybe more.

He piles them all together, laying them across the short, oak wood coffee table inside his living room. His temples throb painfully and his stomach twists and aches. He feels his head swimming, his hands trembling as he splays the little gadgets out to inspect them. He ignores it all. He needs to focus. He bites his tongue and grabs harshly at his tails, distracting himself with a different, new pain. He doesn’t notice how the death grip he has on them begins to rip out patches of fur. He needs this. He can keep everyone safe. Learning more about these will protect all his friends.

…Surely, he’s not the only one being targeted—right?

He shakes the thought away—literally—moving his head from side to side. The room spins, a wave of vertigo crashing over him. It doesn’t matter.

Five on the table. One gone. It doesn't matter.

Three are cameras, he gathers, based on the tiny lenses, complete with microphones and another receiver—they’re all remote activated.

One seems to be the same as the first one he found. A microphone, he presumes—likely better quality than the ones built into the camera.

The last one, though, confuses him. It has a hard, metal-mesh exterior. A speaker, maybe?

…Why would there be speakers planted here? What good would that do anyone? He brushes the thought off. It must be something else. He’ll look at them more closely in his workshop. He clicks on his communicator, starting a call to Sonic on speakerphone.

Just as he begins to pick them all up—

Beep!

Beep! Beep!

He pauses, staring down at them.

“Tails?”

Beep! Beep! Beep!

He’s so, so dizzy. He feels lighter than usual, though his movements are sluggish and sloppy. His brows furrow. He really doesn’t want to throw up again, but he—

Beepbeepbeep—

What is he doing?

“Tails? What’s—"

He drops them at once, turning and running to the door, swaying to the side and stumbling over his own feet, tripping and falling face-first onto the cold, hardwood floor.

Beepbeepbeepbeep—

Go! Get up, move!

“Tails!”

He staggers forward, his knees buckling as he pulls himself off the ground. He refuses to fall. Not when he’s so, so close—

BOOM!

The light is blinding, an all-encompassing flash of red, yellow, and white. It crashes over him and makes his ears ring violently, deafening him. Everything aches. Everything burns. He thinks he feels his body hit a wall, but he can’t be sure.

“—Tails!”

Someone’s here, he registers absentmindedly. Does it matter, now?

Everything goes black.

The ringing stops.

Chapter Text

The moment Tails had walked out the door, there was a palpable change in atmosphere. Sonic had always known Amy to be rather… short-tempered, at times. But this felt so much different.

“Sonic.” She calls with a frown, crossing her arms in front of her chest. He’s in for it now, he’s sure. He probably deserves whatever’s coming next.

“…Yes, Amy?” He responds, voice getting a little quieter as he turns to face her, a wobbly, nervous smile on his face.

“Oh, don’t play dumb with me, mister. I want you to tell me right now what is going on with him. This is why I haven’t been able to see him, isn’t it? What happened? Why have you not been keeping me in the loop? This isn’t just him feeling “down”, this is—this is so much worse! That boy needs support right now, not—"

“I am supporting him!” He cuts her off, “Look, I—I am well aware I’m not as great with emotions as you are, but I’m trying! Okay? He won’t tell me hardly anything! We had one conversation about it—one! I’m not gonna force him to talk about it! And now—”

“About what?! What happened before you started staying over at his place, Sonic!?”

He stops, his mouth opening and closing several times. She stares at him incredulously, her hands on her hips now. He’s rarely ever seen her this worked up over something. He takes a deep breath in, staring at the ceiling for a long moment before speaking again, his voice calm now.

“About two days ago—maybe three? I don’t know—I went to go look for him. I had some—stupid question to ask him. I don’t even remember what it is anymore. I couldn’t find him anywhere, until, I—” He cuts himself off, shutting his eyes tightly and gritting his teeth. “Amy, he…”

Amy’s expression softens significantly, and she steps closer to him, taking one of his hands into hers. “He what, Sonic?” She prompts gently. She thinks she has a feeling where this is leading.

“He was up high, really high. Usually, I’d think he was just looking around, about to patrol the sky because he was bored, or was checking for signs of Eggman, but—” He feels himself getting choked up and stops, grinding his teeth against each other as if he were chewing rocks, his molars aching from the force. When the feeling passes, he continues. “He tried—He was going to jump, Amy. He was shaking. He had a note in his hand. If I had gotten there any later, I… I don’t know what…” He trails off, voice breaking. He blinks his eyes quickly. “I don’t know what I would do if I lost him, Amy. I don’t know how I could have failed him this badly. What—where did I do wrong? How do I fix this?”

When he looks her in the eyes again, she’s just staring at him with a blank expression. After a few seconds, she removes her hand from his.

“Amy, wait—”

She pulls him into a hug.

“It’s not your fault.” She declares, her voice gentle.

His hands hover over her back, not yet returning the embrace.

Sonic has never cried in front of anyone. He hates crying, and hates crying in front of people even more. But this had him pretty close. He bites his lower lip, moving his gaze back up to the ceiling. He blinks rapidly.

“It’s not your fault.” She repeats, this time with more conviction.

He takes a long, deep breath in. He lets it out. It’s shaky.

“He’s only a kid, Amy. It was my job to prevent this. And I just—I ignored it. I was scared, I thought, maybe—maybe he was just going through a rough patch. I’d ask him if he was okay, and I just, I didn’t look any further into it.”

She holds him a little tighter.

“It’s a difficult situation, Sonic. You were doing what you thought was best. You can’t expect to get it right the first time,” She reminds him, “But you’re trying. And you did prevent it. You got there in time. He’s still here.”

He sighs softly. He despises how wobbly it comes out. He wraps his arms around her back.

“I need to make this right.”

“It’s not that simple, Sonic. You can’t make those feelings go away overnight. It takes time and hard work. Not just from you, either.”

“…I know.” He replies quietly. He pushes down the embarrassment he feels for getting so emotional—even if it’s warranted, in this situation.

She pulls away from him after a moment, looking him in the eyes. Her hands fall to his shoulders.

“It’s gonna be okay, Sonic. We’ll get through this. Tails will get through this. The fact he’s opened up to you, even if it’s just a little, speaks volumes.”

He flashes her a weak smile.

She smiles back, her expression warm, though it’s clear she’s worried beneath it.

“I think we… should talk to him about getting professional help. There’s only so much we can do as his friends, y’know?”

He nods after a moment, stepping away from her and taking a seat on the couch, laying his head in his hands.

“He’s not gonna like that.” He remarks, his voice a little muffled from beneath his gloves.

“I know. But it’s what’s best for him.” She emphasizes, taking a seat next to him on the sectional.

He nods again, pulling his head out of his hands and facing her. Before he can finish opening his mouth to agree with her, he gets a call from his communicator, the cheery ‘ting-ting-ting!’ cutting through the momentary silence. He picks it up immediately.

“Tails?”

The silence over the call is shattered as he approaches the small house that Tails’ GPS signal was coming from. The line goes dead.

A blinding light tears the sky open, white and angry, which is quickly followed by a roar that cracks the earth around the structure, heat punching out in a sudden, vicious wave of energy. Everything is engulfed in flames within seconds. Splinters of wood and shards of glass hurtle outwards and scatter onto the grass, flattening the greenery, windows and doors blown out and demolished. Thick, dark, smoke billows out from the house.

He freezes for maybe a nanosecond before running head-first into the burning building. His ears ring with a high-pitched, headache-inducing, shrill noise, sending waves of uncomfortable pressure through his skull.

“Tails!” He shouts, his voice coming out as a piercing shriek. There’s no answer.

He tries again—but the only noise that returns is the crackling of burning lumber and the crumbling of the supports holding up what little of the house is left. He looks around frantically—everything is burning, and it’s nearly impossible to make his way through, thick smoke travelling through the air and obscuring his view. Support beams and walls lay crumbled and burning, blocking the path. He coughs, his eyes burning and watering from the air. An intense scent of motor oil fills the house, and he coughs again, his lungs burning.

Then, he sees it: a small, motionless body.

All the air is sucked out of his lungs at once, his heart—typically unusually fast—stops, dropping low into his stomach.

When he drops to his knees in front of him, he sees a slow, weak rise and fall to Tails’ chest. He lets out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding, and jumps into action.

His fur is burned off in patches, revealing reddened and broken skin, his back, legs, and face having taken the worst of the blast—a mess of burns, soot, and pink flesh beneath what was once yellow-orange fur. His twin tails remain intact, though they too are burnt, clumps of fur missing with blistering tissue peeking out.

There’s a tear in his left ear, the area bleeding, along with several other lacerations across his body; likely from falling objects, as well as wood and glass fragments. He ignores the flames that lick at his own body, white-hot pain simmering and searing his skin. He picks Tails up bridal style, avoiding touching his injuries as much as possible, and rushes out of the quickly deteriorating building, hopping over debris and pieces of broken furniture.

The pain only intensifies when he escapes with Tails in his arms, exposed to the hot summer air as it begins to blister, red-hot burns littering his legs from the knees-down. He grits his teeth and pushes on, accelerating more and more, until he reaches Amy’s house at a new personal record.

He kicks at the front door over and over, the rubber of his shoes warped and melted, and begins shouting for Amy, who comes out almost immediately.

“I left the door unlocked for you, y’kn—oh my God!” She shrieks, eyes widening marginally at the sight. She nearly stumbles backwards in her surprise, but recovers within a few seconds, throwing herself out the door and slamming it behind her. She decides to ask questions later.

“We need to call an am—”

“That’ll take too long, I could get to Central City in half that time,” Sonic grits out, wincing as he adjusts Tails in his arms, his own legs trembling.

“You’re hurt, Sonic! How do you expect to get there like this?!” She exclaims, gesturing down at Sonic’s legs, covered in burns and blisters, visible beneath his now blackened and charred fur.

“Then what am I supposed to do, Amy?!”

“Just—hold on a second.” She mutters, turning her wrist over and quickly dialing a number on her communicator.

It rings once, twice, three times, then—

“What is it?” Answers a deep, brooding voice, completely monotone.

“Are you serious—"

“Quiet, Sonic.” Amy shushes him, “Shadow, how quickly can you get here? It’s an emergency.”

“Where are you?” He asks in return, a shuffling noise coming over the phone.

“My place.”

The call ends abruptly with a ‘click’.

“I’ll just—” Sonic begins, but is quickly cut off by a flash of light and the sudden appearance of Shadow, Chaos Emerald in hand.

“What’s the…” Shadow starts, trailing off when his gaze drifts to the body in Sonic’s arms.

“Explosion. Can you get us to the hospital in Central City?”

Shadow only nods. “Hold on tight.” He orders, stepping forwards, and holding up Tails’ legs, allowing Sonic to move his other arm to grab onto shadow, where he wraps an arm around his back.

“Chaos Control!”

He’d look almost peaceful, laying asleep in the hospital bed, if it weren’t for the bandages covering him beneath his patterned blue gown, the tube—along with several others connected to it—In his throat allowing him to breathe clearly, and the IV inserted into his right hand. At least it wasn’t his dominant side.

This was his fault. He was too late. Again.

Sonic had avoided being treated until he knew Tails was okay, pacing in circles outside his room, despite Shadow nagging at him to let the hospital staff do their jobs and worry about himself too. The only thing he accepted was the oxygen mask they gave him, though he hadn’t inhaled much smoke, he was sure.

He had tried to argue, but Shadow insisted—accompanied by a small threat of dragging him into the burn unit’s care—that he would stay outside of Tails’ room and alert him as soon as he was able to check on the fox.

Shadow remained stoic and sullen, as per usual, but Sonic was sure he could hear a hint of concern in his tone for the two of them when he spoke.

Now, the lower halves of his legs are wrapped carefully in non-stick bandages, a layer of ointment beneath them. He continues his pacing, only now, it’s inside Tails’ hospital room.

“Would you sit down already?” Shadow grouches, sat in one of the three chairs across from the bed, his arms crossed.

Sonic rolls his eyes, but sits in the seat next to him anyway, tapping his foot restlessly.

Shadow lets out a long sigh, gritting his teeth with annoyance at the noise, but says nothing more.

“What if—”

“He’ll be fine, Sonic.”

“But—”

“He’s fine.”

Sonic sighs, running his hands down his face, his lids drooping over his eyes.

“You don’t have to stay here, y’know.”

Shadow’s expression turns into a confused grimace, and he turns his head to look at the other.

“Why would I leave?”

Sonic stares at him in a stunned silence. No matter how many similarities they share, or how much they continue to match each other in every competition, Shadow always finds new ways to surprise him—to keep him on his toes. “Never mind,” he replies, turning back to face where Tails lays silently. The room is quiet, aside from the steady beeping of the vitals monitor, the ventilator breathing for Tails, and the quick tap-tap-tapping of Sonic’s shoe against the laminate floor.

Approximately 30 minutes later, quiet banter is broken with a choked noise coming from the bed, the beeping on the vitals monitor picking up. A frantic gurgling sound is heard, and Tails attempts to sit up, coughing around the endotracheal tube in his throat. He looks like he’s suffocating, his eyes darting around with a panic.

Sonic is at his side within milliseconds. The doctors warned him about this—it’s usually frightening, waking up with a tube stuffed down your throat. Who would’ve guessed?

“Tails, it’s okay—” He starts, lifting his hands to grip his shoulders; he stops suddenly, taking his hands away from the bandaged skin. That would hurt a lot worse than the breathing tube, he thinks.

“You just have something helping you breathe, buddy. Don’t panic. You’re in the hospital.” He soothes, and Tails blinks up at him, eyes wide. He winces when he moves, relaxing back in the bed. His gaze drifts to his side, where his call button lays stretched across the bed, within his reach. He reaches out to press it—but groans, his voice muffled.

“I’ll get it.” Sonic tells him, pressing the red button at the end of the long grey cable, a gentle ‘ding, ding, ding’ repeating from the box mounted on the wall that the cord attaches to, a little bell icon blinking in red.

A nurse arrives shortly after, dismissing the call bell as she enters. She’s short, maybe an inch or two taller than Tails—a sheep mobian, her milky white wool slicked back into a high ponytail. Her arms and snout are a deep black colour, her hands hidden beneath white disposable gloves. She wears a set of sky blue scrubs, a lanyard with her medical ID on it. It reads “Navi Fernwell: RN”.

She greets Tails with a warm smile, her soft features upturned, periwinkle eyes blinking slowly. “Hi, Mr. Prower. My name is Navi, I’m a nurse. You’re in the hospital right now.” She says, voice gentle and slow as she approaches. “We didn’t expect you to wake up so soon. I’m going to remove that breathing tube for you, okay?”

He nods.

“Okay, we’re going to start with suctioning. This might be a little uncomfortable.” She states, moving over to a cart a few feet from his bed, grabbing something, then heading back to the ventilator and inserting a long, skinny tube into the larger one down his throat.

He chokes, coughing around the tube as it extends, suctioning out any mucus remaining in his throat. He grips the bed sheets tightly, clenching them in his fists. It’s not just ‘uncomfortable’, that hurts. A lot.

Her expression turns sympathetic, but she continues. When it’s over, she partially removes it, flushes with saline solution and suctions that as well, then takes it out completely. Tails keeps his eyes on the ceiling, trying his hardest not to gag or scream.

“Worst part’s over, hun. We’re going to get this thing outta you now.” She explains. “It’s gonna feel a little weird.” She glances at his vitals monitor for a moment, then back to him. “I’m gonna turn the oxygen up to 100% to get you lots of air before we take it out. You probably won’t feel the increase, though.”

She moves around the room, pulling over the same cart from earlier and taking out a large blue pad from the surface of it. She removes the plastic packaging, then lays it across his blanket covered chest, protecting his bedding and gown. “Alright, we’re going to begin now. We’ll be assessing you afterwards, and if everything goes well and you’re doing alright, you won’t have to get that tube put back in.”

Her voice is cheery, but the thought of having to keep that thing down his throat sends a sense of dread hurtling through his chest. He makes a muffled noise of acknowledgement.

“I’ll talk you through it hun. Just gonna raise the head of your bed up,” She hums, reaching behind him with one hand and holding the tubes with her other. She lifts the head of the bed, his upper half elevating. “There we go! Could you take some big breaths for me, Mr. Prower?” She continues, messing around with the ventilator and turning the oxygen concentration up to 100%.

She takes another few tubes into her hand that Tails doesn’t recognize, plugging it into the ports behind him on the wall and turning one on—ah, it’s suction, based on that noise—and tucking it under his pillow, presumably for later. She unpackages something else—a nasal canula, and hooks it up to the wall behind him, plugging it in and turning it on. She tucks it under his pillow as well, then turns back to where it’s plugged in and twists a knob, mumbling softly under her breath. All he catches is “five”, and “litres”. She slips on a mask and presses a button on the ventilator, silencing it so it doesn’t go off when she removes everything. She takes out a syringe, inserting it into the end of one of the skinnier tubes attached to his breathing tube.

“I’m going to drop the balloon that’s in your throat right now, just to see if there’s a leak. That’s what we want; means your throat hasn’t swelled around the tube. Could you take some big breaths for me?” She asks softly, putting on a stethoscope and pressing it to his throat, then she pulls up the head of the syringe, deflating the cuff in his airway. “Perfect,” she smiles beneath her mask, taking a look at the screen of the ventilator for a moment. “We’re gonna reinflate that cuff, and then we can extubate.”

He tries not to cough, a rush of air flowing through his upper airways. He moves his eyes over to Sonic, still by his side with a warm, comforting smile. He reaches out a hand towards him, and Sonic takes it immediately, giving it a soft squeeze. It’s one of the only places on his body completely untouched by burns, having been protected by his gloves. He closes his eyes for a second, and he thinks, just maybe, he’ll be okay.

The nurse looks at his vitals, double checks all of her work so far, and then speaks, “Okay hun, I’m gonna get you to take some really big breaths now, really big breaths. When I tell you to, I’m gonna need you to take in another really big breath and hold it, and I’m gonna pull that tube out, right as you’re holding your breath.” She guides, reaching for a pair of medical scissors and placing the open ends between his bandaged mandible and the tape keeping the tubes in place. She uses her other hand to hold up and support the tubes.

“Alright, we’re just cutting the tape that’s holding that tube in place,” She says, and a small ‘snip’ quickly follows. She puts the scissors down on the cart next to her, and removes the tape with her free hand, the stickiness of it pulling at some of his fur that wasn’t covered under his dressings. He winces. “Big breath in… another big breath in… Okay, now on this next one, take a big breath in and hold it, and I’ll pull the tube out.”

He holds his breath and she deflates the cuff once more, pulling the tube out swiftly but carefully. “Cough it out,” she tells him, and he does. Profusely.

“Okay Mr. Prower, I’ll have you put your mouth around this,” She coaches, pulling out the suction tube she had put under his pillow earlier. He listens, and within a few seconds it’s over, and she continues after removing the tube and placing it down. “We’re going to put this nasal canula in your nose,” she pulls out the canula from earlier and inserts it into his nostrils, looping the extending tubes around his ears and tightens the bottom part of it securely—though not too tightly—around his neck. It’s a little uncomfortable, though not nearly as bad as what was just extracted from his airways. He shivers at the thought.

“Alright, how does that feel?” She asks, putting on her stethoscope again.

“Be—” He starts, though he quickly cuts himself off with a violent cough. “…Better.” He chokes out, his voice scratchy and high-pitched. His throat stings.

She puts the end of the stethoscope up to his throat once more, listening, “Take some more big breaths for me hun… Good.” She takes another look up to his vitals, then turns off the ventilator and removes the blue pad from his chest, throwing it out.

“Alright, we’re just going to have another listen to your chest now,” She continues, putting the stethoscope to his chest after moving the blanket down a little, “Big breaths for me… Good! Sounds nice and clear. Can you say a few words for me, Mr. Prower?”

“…Hello…” He mumbles, looking up at her. His voice makes him cringe a little. Her eyes are upturned—kind and gentle. She takes off her mask and tosses it, giving him a beaming smile.

“Hello,” she chuckles, “How are you feeling?”

“Uhm…” He croaks out, “Everything… hurts.”

She nods sympathetically. “I know, hun. I’ll give you some more morphine.”

She proceeds to administer said morphine over the course of five minutes. It still hurts, but the burning sensation simmering beneath his skin has eased a little.

“Thank you…” He mutters, the words coming out scratchy and strange.

 “You’re very welcome, Mr. Prower.” She smiles at him, “You won’t be able to eat for a while until we can be sure you’re able to handle fluids, then solid food.”

Huh. He… wasn’t really worried about eating, but he appreciates the information anyways. “Okay.”

His head is spinning, everything processing so slowly, like he’s viewing the world through a thick pane of glass; colour and sounds muted. Some parts across his body he can’t feel, the skin completely numb, while areas surrounding the numbness have a deep pressure—throbbing, searing, like the heat is slowly working its way through his flesh, inch by inch. Theres a sharp pain in his chest whenever he takes a breath.

“You’re probably going to feel pretty fatigued for a while. Your doctor will be in soon to discuss treatment. Is there anything more I can do for you while I’m here?”

“…Treatment?” He tilts his head in question, and—oh, that was a bad idea. A wave of vertigo crashes over him, and he struggles not to gag.

“You were in a nasty blast, hun. You inhaled a lot of smoke—that’s why we had you on that breathing tube—and you have some burns.”

“Oh.” He acknowledges. “Okay. I’m… alright for now. Thank you.”

“Of course. Just hit that call button again if you need anything, okay?”

He nods, and she steps out of the room, closing the door gently behind her.

He’s so, so tired. Is it normal to be this tired? Hadn’t she said something about that? He thinks she did. He blinks his eyes slowly.

“…You doing okay, bud?” Sonic speaks up, coming to sit on the side of his bed, still holding his hand. Tails stares for a moment before he glances down, finding bandages covering his legs.

“That’s a stupid question, Sonic.” Shadow grunts, standing and coming to Tails’ side as well. “Nobody would be ‘doing okay’ after that.” He gripes, though his eyes appear almost…sympathetic. It’s a strange look on him.

Sonic looks back to Shadow and rolls his eyes, ignoring him, then shifting his eyes back to Tails.

“I’m sorry.” Tails mutters, still looking down at his legs.

“What?” Sonic asks, dumfounded. He follows Tails’ gaze down—oh. “Oh, Tails, no, that’s—that’s not your fault, buddy. Don’t apologize. It’s not even that bad, promise.”

“The idiot wouldn’t let them even look at it until he knew you were okay. He’ll be fine in a few days.”

“Thanks, Shadow. …But he’s right, pal. I’m fine. I’m much more worried about you. Do you… remember anything?”

…Did he?

He remembers finding more devices. He remembers calling Sonic. He remembers an assortment of loud, unsynchronized beeping. He remembers a flash and a loud noise, then a sharp pain in his back and chest. Then a voice, and finally, darkness.

“Hm…” Shadow hums.

…Did he say all that out loud? Maybe his brain fog is worse than he thought. He blames it on the pain meds.

Sonic and Shadow share a look, then Sonic begins; “Tails… You were in an explosion. A big one. It’s a miracle you’re even…”

“Alive.” Shadow finishes, straight to the point. Sonic shoots him a glare. “You have several fractured ribs. 30% of your body is covered in second and third degree burns, from what we’ve heard, both chemical and from open flames. You should not have survived, let alone gotten off with such minimal injuries. It’s very lucky you weren’t closer to the blast, or you certainly would not have.”

Tails feels his heart twist in place. What?

“Shadow, stop.”

“Does he not have the right to know? It happened to him. Quit treating him like he’s still a child.”

“He is a child!”

“You know what I meant. He’s fourteen, he can handle hearing about his own injuries.”

“Gaia, would you just—"

“Please, stop.” Tails mumbles, his eyes watering. This is all just—too much.

The two turn back to face him. There’s a long pause, then:

“Sorry, bud.” Sonic mutters, sheepish.

Tails looks up to the ceiling, blinking away the wetness. Crying in front of Sonic was embarrassing enough, but Shadow? He already views him as weak. He’d rather not give him more reason to. Even if maybe it was true.

“…I apologize.” Shadow speaks, his voice softer than usual, though it’s still gruff.

“…Amy should be here soon. She left a little while ago on the train over.” Sonic changes the subject, scooting a little further up the bed.

Tails nods, his eyelids drooping.

“You should rest.” Shadow grumbles, stepping back and sitting once again. “We will wake you when either she or your doctor arrives.”

Sonic nods in agreement.

“…M’kay…” he murmurs. He’s tired, anyways. He tries to turn over and get comfortable, but stops immediately with a hiss, a dull, aching and burning pain shooting through him. He shuts his eyes tightly with a grimace, and relaxes back into his prior position. He lets sleep take him shortly after.

He’s fast asleep by the time Amy arrives, panting as she opens the door and runs inside.

Sonic stands, coming up to greet her.

“Is he—?”

“He’s okay.” He answers, putting his arms up defensively, then moving one to put a finger over his mouth, nodding his head over to the bed where Tails lays; quiet, steady and soft breathing audible from where they stand, the vitals monitor beeping beside him.

Her mouth makes a small ‘o’ shape, and she tiptoes silently over to the bed, her dress swaying with her steps. She looks over the foot of the bed at the small fox and frowns, her face contorting into a sympathetic expression. “Oh, poor Tails…” She whispers. “How bad is it?”

“We don’t know all of it, but he has some fractured ribs and a lot of burns. We’re still waiting for the doctor.”

She nods, looking back over to where Tails lays. She sits on the end of the bed, and Sonic sits on the side where he had been earlier. “Have you talked to Knuckles yet?”

Sonic nods. “He’s on his way.”

“And Rouge?”

Shadow speaks up now, “Also coming.”

Amy lets out a small hum of acknowledgement.

The room falls into near-silence, aside from small breaths and beeps, before a short, confident knock comes from the door, and a tall woman walks in with a clipboard—a badger; her fur a soft creamy pink colour, the stripes across her face a deep maroon. She wears an earthy-toned orange hijab. Beneath her white doctor’s coat is a scrub set, long sleeved and mahogany in colour. She smiles warmly at the group.

“Good evening,” She starts, glancing at her clipboard, “My name is Doctor Ali. Is Mr.…” She looks back up, “…Hedgehog, here?”

Sonic stands abruptly. “That’s me. Just ‘Sonic’ is fine.” He smiles, stepping forward and extending a hand, which she takes, shaking it with a firm grip.

“Nice to meet you, Sonic. You’re listed as Mr. Prower’s primary caregiver?”

Sonic nods. “He’s my little brother.”

“I see. Could I ask you to step outside with me for a moment?”

Sonic pauses, glancing back to where Tails lays.

“Go ahead, Sonic. We’ll be here with him.” Amy urges with a small nod.

He turns back to the doctor, and she leads the way outside into the hall.

“Alright,” she says, looking over her clipboard as she speaks.

“Miles sustained quite deep second degree burns on about 30% of his body, along with some third degree burns in the worst areas. We’ve debrided what we could, but he’ll need to have some surgeries done to complete the debridement.”

Surgery?

“He’s on morphine to manage pain, and his oxygen concentration—that’s for his nasal canula—is at 40%, as his previous oxygen concentration while on the ventilator was at 30%. He’s likely suffered severe nerve damage, and will have to undergo physical therapy in the future. Skin grafts may be necessary, but it’s a little too early to tell. He has 3 fractured ribs, though those should heal on their own. He’s in stable condition; vitals all look good…”

Sonic listens intently, crossing his arms in front of him.

She pauses for a moment. “I’ll work on an extensive care plan going forwards. I don’t…” Her gaze trails back up to him. “I don’t mean to alarm you, Sonic. I’m sure just about everyone in this city knows who you are and your good deeds—but I’m required to contact Child Protective Services, due to the severity and circumstances of the injuries he sustained. I’m sure you understand.”

His jaw falls open. “Excuse me?”