Chapter Text
Sonic did not know, in Earth terms—or in any world, really—when he had been born. His bEARTHday was June 23rd, and though Tom and Maddie claimed that day to be the anniversary of Sonic’s arrival to earth, Sonic had been there for many, many years prior to meeting them. The day they had marked was the day he’d come to them for help. How could they have known when Sonic’s portal first opened? They weren’t aware of his existence until the Great Tranquilizer Incident, trademark pending. Sonic did, however, know it did not matter. He was honored Tom and Maddie gave him a day to celebrate as a birthday. That was what mattered most.
He just wished it hadn’t been interrupted by a GUN helicopter.
No matter. The cataclysmic event of the week had passed, and maybe it wasn’t his bEARTHday anymore, but the Wachowskis celebrated as though it was. A cozy tent sat deep in the woods, somewhere far from home. Sonic had a great time, really—his s’mores concoction couldn’t be beat, Tom was safe and on the mend, and this far out from Green Hills’ light pollution, a smattering of stars shone all across the night sky.
A light shines, even though the star is gone.
It hit him all at once, as he stared up at the vast, endless expanse above him. Sonic spent the rest of his night numb. While Tails and Knuckles wrestled in the grass, Maddie valiant in her effort to keep the damage to a minimum, Sonic sat on a fallen tree and wondered if Shadow knew how bright he’d shined.
Grief was a funny thing. Sonic thought he had a handle on that emotion, having spent his whole life mourning Longclaw. Been there, done that. He knew what to expect: sometimes grief came in thick, hiccuping sobs, other times in quiet, shuddering breaths or lapses in focus. Death ripped a hole in one’s heart, and those were holes never to be filled. All anybody could do was learn to live with it. Sonic had learned that lesson, only to pluge once more into those swirling depths. Shadow had been the only other person truly, unequivocally like him. Now, he was gone.
His family disappeared into the tent. Sonic did not follow them.
He drew shapes in the dirt at his feet, illuminated by the lantern Sonic had only flicked on after he knew everyone else was asleep, snuggled safe in the cramped little tent. Sonic knew he should join them, but he… couldn’t. The orange bulb kept him company.
He was too tired to sleep.
Everyone Sonic knew lauded him for saving the world. He saw it in the overt cheering from Green Hills’ enthusiastic townsfolk upon his return home, he saw it in the news reports and the way people stared. Did any of these people know the truth? Did any of them, friend or neighbor or stranger, understand what Shadow had done, what he had sacrificed? No. They didn’t. They couldn’t. Most folks had a hard enough time understanding what had turned Eggman around–but to consider Shadow, too? Shadow, who never said his grand goodbyes on the LED screens in Tokyo like Robotnik had? Shadow, who died in silence instead of in glory?
Shadow was a bridge too far, for most. Shadow’s memory–his true memory–lay within Sonic. Not even his family could know. Nobody would forgive him for sympathizing with the hedgehog who’d hurt Tom.
He didn’t blame them. If someone had told Sonic all this, moments after Tom fell, he’d have a damn hard time believing it, too.
Sonic focused on his doodle in the dirt. He was no artist, but he’d recognize those upturned quills and that pained frown anywhere. Sonic breathed an empty sigh and, gently, brushed his foot over the doodle, smoothing out the dirt. Gone, in the blink of an eye. Shadow’s story was not written in stone. It hadn’t even gotten the chance to be put on paper.
Tom slipped out of the tent sometime in the dead of night to relieve his bladder, and as he returned to the tent, he caught Sonic’s eyes. He paused for a moment, then sat beside him atop the log. It settled under Tom’s weight.
“Hey, kiddo,” Tom said, keeping his voice soft, lest he wake the others.
Sonic said nothing. He snuggled against Tom, staring with wet green eyes. Tom combed his fingers through Sonic’s mangled quills.
“Still wrapping your head around everything, hm?” Tom asked.
Sonic nodded.
“I’m okay, bud. Doctors cleared me with a clean bill of health. Nothing to fret over.”
Sonic hadn’t been present when Tom’s doctors had cleared him from the hospital. He’d been too busy plummeting toward the earth, unconscious, while Shadow pushed the Eclipse Cannon away from the planet. Regardless, while he had worried and fretted about Tom plenty over the previous few days, that wasn’t what weighed him down tonight.
It was, however, a good excuse for his drained mood, so he snuggled a little closer to his dad and pretended that was all he was still stressed about.
“I’m worried about Sonic.”
He overheard Tom chatting with Maddie one night, their voices drifting through the floorboards and into the attic. Sonic crept to the door and cracked it open enough to hear a bit more clearly. Their voices sailed over the undertones of video game music. Tails and Knuckles were enjoying game night. Usually it was the three of them, a boisterous trio, taking turns on the controller while they played through whatever game was next on their list. Right now, it was Super Mario: Sunshine.
Sonic couldn’t bring himself to join them tonight.
“He has been quieter recently,” Maddie mused.
“He’s shedding quills, he’s withdrawn, and he’s always got this far-off look in his eye. I think he’s far more shaken by everything than he dares to admit.” Tom paused, and Sonic heard some shuffling, though through the crack in the attic door he couldn’t see what Tom was doing. Folding laundry in his own bedroom, maybe. “He’s still a kid, Maddie. He shouldn’t have this kind of weight on his shoulders. And the other boys, they’re fine as always. I think Sonic endured something the others didn’t. Something he’s not telling us.”
“Maybe we should find him a therapist,” Maddie said. Sonic gasped. Therapy? Really? No way! He didn’t need therapy! He slapped a hand over his mouth to keep his reaction quiet. There was a long, thick pause, and Sonic feared they may have heard him.
“You know he’ll fight you on that,” Tom eventually said, a small chuckle escaping his lips.
“I know, I know. But… maybe we should suggest it. It’d help him sort through whatever’s on his mind.”
Sonic, as soft as he could, closed the attic door and slunk back to his bed. Pfft. Therapy.
That night, he dreamt of how Shadow’s hand had felt against his, how his shimmering golden, almost white fur looked when his muscles flexed, and how his eyes glowed with warmth—and terror—moments before Sonic lost his super form and fell toward Earth.
At least he slept, though.
The following morning, Sonic sat at the kitchen table and gnawed on a buttered bagel. Maddie joined him. She sat in the chair to his right, nursing a hot cup of coffee, its scent rancid to Sonic’s sensitive hedgehog nose. He’d never cared much for coffee. Hot cocoa was far superior. Especially when the mug contained more marshmallows than there was liquid.
“How have you been feeling lately, Sonic?” Maddie asked. She fixed him with an expectant stare, waiting for him to spill every thought that plagued the hyperactive hedgehog’s mind. The thought crossed his mind again: should he tell her about Shadow?
She wouldn’t forgive Shadow for hurting Tom. There was no point in painting him as a hero when all he’d ever be seen as was a villain. Sonic yearned for them to understand, but…
They wouldn’t. May as well not even breach the subject. “I’m fine,” Sonic said. Simple as that.
“Are you sure?”
“Yes.”
“Your dad and I think you’re hurting,” Maddie said, her voice soft, bordering mournful. Sonic frowned. He hadn’t meant to worry her. “We think you should have someone to talk to. To sort everything out.”
“I don’t need therapy.”
“Tom and I see a therapist from time to time, you know,” she continued. “You know us—we’re both mentally healthy, but sometimes it helps to have someone to bounce ideas off of. Therapy isn’t a bad thing, it’s not something to fear.”
Sonic snorted. “You?”
“Yes. Once or twice a month. Think about it, okay?”
“…Okay.” Sonic brushed a few crumbs off the table. Ozzie would come by later and lick them up. “I, um…”
Sonic wasn’t sure he should continue, but… maybe he could get one thing off his chest, if nothing else. Maddie stared at him, her eyes warm, like home. A little over a year ago, Sonic had been watching this woman from a safe distance, a lonely, sad hedgehog who wanted a friend. Just one. Now, up close, she and Tom were everything Sonic had wanted, and more. Friends. Family. Parents. If Sonic were being honest, there were times when he saw Longclaw reflected in Maddie’s eyes. The revelation would have spooked Sonic a year ago. Now, it left him feeling warm.
“I shouldn’t have brought you and Dad along. It’s my fault he got hurt.” It’s my fault I couldn’t sway Shadow sooner.
“Oh, honey,” Maddie cooed. “You did everything you could.”
Sonic wished that was the truth.
“...and standing at the pitcher’s mound, he’s tough, he’s ruthless, he’ll break your whole arm in a thumb-wrestle, it’s Knuckles the Echidna!”
Tails sat at the announcer’s table off to the side of the Green Hills baseball field. It was a rickety old thing, caked in mildew from being exposed to the elements, its legs planted on uneven ground, rendering it wobbly. Tails didn’t seem bothered—he wore a bright smile, energetic and unmarred by the pains of the past few weeks. Sonic was typically the announcer–he maintained that he had a better voice for it–but today, he stood at home base, bat slung lax over his shoulder. He shot Knuckles a taunting grin.
Knuckles, in turn, snarled. To anyone on the outside, that snarl may have read as aggression. And, sure, Knuckles could be plenty aggressive, but Sonic saw past the surface. Under that curled lip and bared teeth, Knuckles had a playful glint in his eye. Bring it on.
“Watch your pitch, big guy,” Tom chimed in from shortstop. “You don’t need to throw your whole strength into it.”
Knuckles frowned, turning to face him. “Then what is the point? What do I have to gain by going easy? Sonic is a formidable warrior, untrained as he is–”
“Hey!” Sonic squawked.
“–he can handle it.”
“I don’t want to take anyone to the hospital,” Tom said. “And knowing how you boys get…”
Tom’s voice faded into the distance. Dangerous habits and injuries and hospitals. He was keenly aware, now, that Tom and Maddie were on the baseball field with them. Sonic, Knuckles, and Tails were resilient. But Tom and Maddie? They were human. They didn’t have superpowers. All it would take was an errant baseball, hit hard enough to break the sound barrier…
He saw Tom’s body, lying on the floor in GUN’s headquarters. Blood. Bruising. Sirens. His fault, his fault, his fault. His fault for not subduing Shadow sooner. Shadow had it in him the whole time. There was, for a fleeting moment, a fear in those ruby eyes as Sonic hunched over Tom’s unconscious form.
Sonic could have talked the guy down the moment they’d met. Maybe none of this would have happened. Shadow had been receptive to Sonic, after all. He could have thrown hands on sight. But he didn’t, he saw a hedgehog like him and he gave Sonic the benefit of the doubt, even if for only a few minutes. If Sonic had taken a ring directly to Tokyo instead of hopping on that damned GUN helicopter, could he have saved Shadow?
Sonic’s breaths came short, shaky. His gaze turned to Knuckles, who reared back, poised, and threw his pitch. The ball careened closer, closer, its form blurry and trailing sparks of red. Red, like Shadow. He and Knuckles hadn’t really ever gotten along, but maybe that was solely because they’d been forced into a circumstance that demanded fighting. If Knuckles knew Shadow for who he truly was…
Sonic did not raise the bat. He did not swing. The ball sailed past him and landed square in Tails’s catcher’s mitt–when had the kit taken that position? Sonic could have sworn he was still at the table.
“Strike!” Tails exclaimed.
“What gives, hedgehog? Did you forget how to play base of ball?”
“Ah, sorry,” Sonic chuckled. He shook himself off, trying his best to snap himself out of his thoughts. “Got distracted.”
Tails tossed the ball back to Knuckles. Focus, Sonic reminded himself. I’m spending time with my brothers.
He cast a glance at Tails. Such a good, bright-eyed kid. He had a heart the size of the moon, and Sonic got a fleeting feeling he and Shadow would have gotten along, once they put their differences aside.
Sonic could imagine it clear as day. Tails and Shadow, bonding as they tinkered with Shadow’s motorbike. Tails would probably fit it with a ton of cool upgrades. And maybe Sonic was present in this scenario, all their technical lingo going right over his head. He imagined himself slipping out of the garage with a smile, letting Tails and Shadow do their thing, in favor of wrestling with Knuckles in the backyard.
The baseball sailed straight past his head again.
“Strike!”
“Hedgehog!” Knuckles bellowed. “You’re not even trying!”
“Everything alright, buddy?” Tom’s voice, while lighthearted in tone, carried the heaviness of worry Sonic wished he and Maddie would drop.
“I’m fine,” Sonic bit. “Fine. I’ll get the next one.”
Tails laughed. “You better! Or else you’re not running the bases!”
Sonic took a half-step closer to the plate. He tapped the end of his bat on the base, then raised it, poised to swing. Knuckles wound up his pitch, shooting Sonic a sharp, playful grin.
And for a fleeting moment, he saw Shadow, his fur golden and radiant, as he and Sonic took on the hundreds of robots that swarmed them outside the Eclipse Cannon. He saw that raw power, a star in his own right, wearing a cocky grin as the inky blackness around him lit up with chaos spears. Sonic remembered thinking Shadow was rather stunning. A smile suited Shadow well, even if it was drenched thick with ego.
Handsome. He may or may not have found Shadow handsome. Just a little bit, in a totally normal kind of way. A “you’re the only other hedgehog I’ve ever met, ergo, you’re handsome” kind of way. That was the only reason Sonic’s heart had fluttered upon seeing the raw power coiled under sleek black fur. Yup. Nothing deeper than that.
Focus!
Knuckles released the ball. It rocketed toward him. Sonic tightened his grip on the bat and bent his knees. He’d be sure to hit this ball out of the park. He’d hit it all the way across the continent, not unlike how he’d punched Shadow so hard they both wound up on the moon. And he’d run the bases, once, twice, maybe three times, whooping and hollering and gloating, and his family, slow as they were, wouldn’t be able to do anything about it.
He wished Shadow were alive, though. Would Shadow have liked baseball? Or would he take up his perch in the stands, a disdainful glare on his face? Shadow, as it were, would have been a formidable opponent. Hard to play baseball with someone who can teleport. Sonic wished he could have had the chance to try, though.
A light shines, even though the star is gone.
“Strike!”
Sonic dropped the bat with a long, drawn-out sigh.