Chapter Text
The ocean water feels cool on his feet. He walks just above the sea foam, watching schools of fish swim beneath him. Where he walks, he doesn’t know. He knows it’s nice, the cooling breeze coming off the endless sea, the smell of the salty air. He can’t open one of his eyes, but he doesn’t let himself worry about it. Right now, nothing matters in this world.
His ear flicks. Watery plop plop plops skip across the water’s surface. He turns just as a thrown rock skips along the crests and soon sinks into the watery depths. It looks like someone tried to aim for Sonic’s ankles and missed by an inch.
Sonic frowns. Nothing exists in this dream world—he hasn’t seen anyone for miles—but he knows that whenever he’s here, whenever he’s thrown back into this purgatory state of rest and confusion, his evil doppelgänger is never too far behind.
Behind him, Arthur stands with another rock ready to go in his gloved hand. He throws it up and catches it in a steady rhythm, standing on a slant due to an injury Sonic doesn’t see. His eyes barely open in acknowledgement.
“Good of you to finally show your face,” Sonic says. “Asshole.”
Arthur throws another stone. Sonic watches it skip even farther away from him and sink into the ocean. Within each of its ripples, a fragmented reflection from another world shines back at Sonic. He sees his green hills, Central City. He sees a cave and a version of himself wearing strange, glowing gloves. One shows him in his Super Sonic form, but he looks untamed, his eyes a swirl of manic red. Another one has him taller and wearing a brown bandana around his neck. He looks handsome.
They disappear as quickly as they come.
“Did we do it?”
Sonic looks back up at his mirror reflection. “I think so. How did you do that, by the way? Come back to life like that?”
“Didn’t. Must’ve been through the powers of the Chaos Emeralds that I was able to become…temporarily corporeal.”
“How did it feel to go Super?”
The comment brings Arthur back to his usual despondent mood. He frowns deliberately, scrunching up his nose in disgust. “I hated it. It made me feel unstable. Well, more unstable than I usually am. You really rely on that unstable power supply to defeat your enemies? You should really work on your swordsmanship so I don’t have to overexert myself to save your sorry ass next time.”
Sonic sighs. “Listen, dude, you didn’t have to swoop in—”
“I did.” He throws another rock, this time hard enough that it doesn’t skip. It plunks into the water right by Sonic’s foot, and in its ripples a field emerges. Craggily stones jut out from the grassy field that’s littered with metal pieces. A plane crash? An explosion?
Sonic drops to his knees, trying to see closer. The sky, the field—it’s Angel Island. Back home, when he and Silver had left to destroy the Metal Virus. He sees the Chaotix, Cream, Vanilla, Amy. Tails, Knuckles, and Silver, who seem to have recently crash-landed from the sky after their attempt with the Virus. Knuckles holds him upright. Tails and Amy seemingly ask him questions about what happened. They’re frozen in time, unable to move forwards.
“I could’ve let you work out the fight by yourself,” Arthur continues. “But I wanted one more chance at…redemption, I guess you can call it. One more chance to give it my all.”
Sonic goes to touch the mirrored world, then stops himself. Within the reflection, he sees himself, his true self, and what’s become of him.
He touches the gaping wound across his brow. It cuts down his temple, across his eyelid, and deep into his muzzle. It doesn’t hurt, but he still can’t open the eye. No wonder. He can’t imagine what will happen to it once he awakens.
If he ever awakens.
“Looks good,” Arthur says. “Now we match.”
Sonic frowns at his reflection. “Well, I don’t want to admit it, but without your help, the Knights of the Round Table would’ve been crushed. Who knows if I would’ve been able to defeat him like this? So…thanks, I guess.”
“He wasn’t going to touch them,” Arthur says. “I wouldn’t allow it.” He leans back. “Though it doesn’t matter anymore, does it?”
Sonic glances over at him, then immediately lowers his gaze. The wound to Arthur’s stomach has healed, but just like the scars raked across his body, the ghostly injuries remain.
Half of his stomach is gone, ripped away by Black Doom as his last stand against the late king. As a ghost, Arthur doesn’t seem fazed by the injury. Perhaps the same can be said for Sonic.
“If there was any indication I’m dead,” he says, arms out. “Guess I fucked that up for both of us, didn’t I, Hedgehog?”
“There still might be a chance,” Sonic says, though when it comes to magic mixing with Chaos Energy, he doesn’t know if he can promise anything. If they’re both stuck in this dream world, then who’s to say either of them will see the light of day again?
Arthur drops his hands and looks out to sea. He smiles warmly. “So, you and Lancelot, huh? I saw you holding hands through the crystal. He dropped me for you, huh?”
“About that. I have a big bone to pick with you about how you treated him. What gives?”
“I didn’t have a problem with…that part. The love part. I might’ve been able to return his affections if I weren’t devoted to Lady Nimue. But he reminded me too much of his father. It would never work.” He smiles. “I never said I was a good person. You should’ve known that.”
Sonic stands back up. “I’d hit you if I didn’t feel so bad for you.”
“You’re going to have to change that mindset if you’re going to be the King of Camelot. You…still have that aspiration, do you not? To rule?”
“I do.” He stares down at both of their reflections. His past life dissolves before his eyes. “I wish I didn’t have to leave them. I can’t live in both timelines, can I?”
“Being a king will take up all of your time and energy. You won’t have time to court Lancelot, either. You’ll have to marry him. I’d suggest it. He deserves it. He’s a good man. They’re all good knights.”
“I know it.” Sonic kicks at the water. “So, what happens next?”
“I can’t speak for you. You chose this new life for yourself. Good on you. I’m just going to tell you this: If you wake up from this dream, which you probably will, given your namesake and the lack of holes in your stomach, take care of my kingdom. And Nimue, though she can easily take care of herself. You know what I mean.”
“I can, but what about you?”
He stretches, standing up on his tiptoes, hiding his hand in his back quills. “I think I’m going to relax for a bit. What do you think?”
“If you need it,” is all Sonic says, because as he speaks, Arthur begins strolling off, uninterested in hearing his answer. “Hey—”
He breaks off in a run so fast it startles Sonic. The water jumps and splashes up into Sonic’s face. He groans, wiping his sensitive eye of salt, and goes to chastise the asshole old king for not using proper manners. He always goes off about how Sonic doesn’t act like a king, but at least he knows how to act like a Mobian.
But when he sees what captured his heart, Sonic’s insult splinters off in his mouth.
Arthur runs as fast as he can towards the blinding horizon. The Sun brightens the horizon line into a blurry white that hurts his eyes. He shields them but forces himself to see them, because they’re so transparent, he thinks blinking would disappear them forever.
Arthur laughs as he runs headfirst into the arms of those he lost so many years ago. They all stand to greet him on the other side, smiling, his twin siblings waving fiercely like they made it a challenge to grab their eldest brother’s attention first. They’ve grown, Sonic notes, looking like the ages they should’ve been in now if things had been different.
The three siblings collapse together, laugh together. Sonia and Manic plant kisses all over Arthur’s head. Arthur kicks his legs as his tail wags through the water. Aside from the lengths and style of their quills and fur color, together, the prickle of young hedgehogs do look like carbon copies of each other. He sees matching mannerisms—their teasing, specifically—and identical earrings clasped to their left ears.
Their mother, so tall, so regal in her flowing cape and her long, purple quills, kneels down to capture all three of her children in an embrace. She squeezes tight, squeaking laughs out of Sonia and Manic. Arthur curls up into her lap, his head resting on her knee, and he laughs. He laughs so hard he coughs, which makes Sonia and Manic laugh at him. Their mother wipes something from her son’s eye, then caresses the side of his scarred face in loving, gentle strokes.
Their bodies thin out in the light, fading into the background as the Sun rises for them. As the children—adults—cuddle up into a pile of longing against her, Queen Aleena looks up.
At Sonic. Her crown catches the Sun’s rays as she lifts her head and makes direct eye contact with Sonic. Her smile is one of gentle acknowledgment, an understanding between her and a stranger who looks just like her lost son. She even waves. Her hand is small.
Sonic stills, capturing it all. Every detail he can spot in their clothes, every quill out of place. The shades of their eyes and the way they held back tears. He finds that he’s holding his breath, as if one short exhale could make them disappear forever.
He takes a step forwards, towards the light shining through them. They’re so happy. He could find that happiness with them, have a family related to him by blood for the first time in his life. They could be together, forever.
Then he steps back into seafoam.
Then steps back again. He returns the wave, hears Aleena speak, but he can’t make out her words.
Another step. The triplets squeak and chirp and roll about in the ocean together. Their hands never leave each other.
Another. Then another. Sonic orders his body to keep moving back without stopping. If he does, he’s afraid of what he’ll do, of what choice he’ll make. He knows the right answer, but that doesn’t make it any easier to make.
But he is Sonic the Hedgehog, and in this or any other timeline, he knows he’ll keep moving.
And so he does.
── ⋅ ⁺‧₊˚ ༓ ⋆ ♛ ⋆ ༓ ˚₊‧⁺ ⋅ ──
Sonic quickly finds out that after being stuck in that dream world for an extended period of time, his mind gets horribly fucked by the worst morning headaches imaginable.
It doesn’t help that when he awakes, he also can’t move his arms and his mouth tastes suspiciously of sea salt.
He pulls his broken body out of the dream one sore limb at a time, his head rattling in his skull. Furred blankets swaddle him in bliss. He suffocates on down feathers and the smell of flowers and doesn’t really know why he needs to wake up in the first place. It feels so much better to bed rot.
He snorts. Inhales. He breathes for the first time in what feels like hours and is greeted by his bed’s canopy.
The quietness of the room welcomes him back calmly and without fanfare. He allows his eyes—eye, due to soft padding obfuscating his left eye’s vision—to adjust. He feels bandages all around his face, his arms, and his knees. His eye has its own little heartbeat underneath the bandages, but he can still feel an eye there, thank Gaia. And he feels a splint on his right leg, straightening it out due to some fracture or break.
He sighs, allowing himself to relax. Outside an open window, morning birds chirp. The breeze feels nice through the curtains. On his desk, someone has left him a dozen bouquets of assorted flowers: sunflowers, lavender stems, roses, even white carnations from Queen Aleena’s gardens. He inhales the scent, closing his eyes to rest a little longer.
Then freezes. His hand above the blankets feels heavy. Too heavy. He squeezes once and finds another’s hand in his, free of any gloves or gauntlets, the paw pads warm against his.
He slowly turns to the other side of his bed. His bedsheets slip off the edge as Lancelot rests beside him. He sits politely on the floor, cheek against the bed covers, draconic wings fanned out across the rug. One is folded up and in bandages. His tail and cheek have bandages on them as well. One of his legs is in a cast.
Seeing him so battered up jumpstarts Sonic’s heart. He squeezes his knight’s hand, then coughs as he tries sitting up. He doesn’t know if he can make it out of bed this time.
Lancelot’s third eye blinks awake before the rest of his body. It goes wide. Lancelot’s body seems to move on its own as Lancelot wakes up holding his knight in his arms.
Sonic embraces him in a lightheaded laugh. The sudden movement stirs his senses, disorientating him. He breathes in his scent to better ground him.
“Sonic,” Lancelot sighs.
“Hello, my pretty knight.” He blushes, holds onto Lancelot tighter. “Chaos, forget I said that. I think I have a concussion.”
Lancelot pulls back and holds Sonic’s face in his arms. He rests his hip against the blankets and curls his tail around Sonic’s buried body. Sonic, smiling, plays with the tip between his two fingers.
Sonic, having no sane control over his body, melts into his touch and begins to purr like a baby hoglet. He can’t remember the last time he purred in front of another before. He’s never been so vulnerable yet so at peace with another person before.
“How do you feel?” Lancelot asks.
“I’ll survive. What about you? How’s your leg, and your wings? Why do you have them out? Can’t you, like, disappear them so they aren’t broken?”
“Not quite. My own father tried to crush me to death. I have to keep them out. You can’t heal what’s hidden away.”
Lancelot lifts one side of the blankets. Sonic struggles to look down his stomach to find he’s not only naked before his first and ever crush, but indeed has a certified broken leg. “But I’m not as bad as you.”
“Shoot.” Sonic drops his head back into his pillow. “What even happened? I was Super. Being Super is supposed to fix everything.”
“You fought valiantly at the end there. Perhaps you overdid it. Being who you are, I wouldn’t be surprised. It was the same as him. Despite everything, you two are the most stubborn hedgehogs I’ve ever met.
Sonic takes Lancelot back into his arms. “So we did it?”
“Yes. The Chaos Emeralds have been successfully returned to the royal archives, along with all the other treasure he’s stolen from the crown over the years. We sent a group of knights into the cavern earlier this week to retrieve the rest of the treasure he’s stolen from across the lands. They will be returned to their rightful owners within the year.”
“And your…and Black Doom?” he rewords. “Is he…?”
Lancelot nods once.
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. I’m not. He was not my father in any way that mattered. He left me to fend for myself and then chose to crush me rather than show me one speck of kindness. He chose to be monstrous. I chose differently. I chose my new family years ago, and it’s here, in this castle.”
He touches the bandages across Sonic’s eye. “May I see? Lady Nimue said the bandages must be replaced every day.”
Sonic nods, and Lancelot begins undoing the wraps. “I’m afraid to ask how long I was knocked out.”
“It’s been four days. I owe Gawain a fortune.”
“On what?”
“On our bet if you’d wake up before the autumn equinox. The kingdom celebrates the turn of each season with festivals. It sounded like he didn’t want you to miss out.”
The last bandage rolls off the bed, and Lancelot sits back and admires Sonic’s face.
Sonic rubs down the scar that now cuts into his flesh. It feels deep but not too painful, not unless he presses really hard—
“Ow.”
“Now why would you do that?” Lancelot balances against his cast and reaches for new bandages left on the side table. “Come now, let me help you.”
Sonic keeps Lancelot steady with a hand around his waist. “Where’s everyone else?”
As Lancelot prepares the new wraps, he kicks his good foot against the rug in a rhythmic pattern. Sonic waits, letting his knight reapply the new bandages in silence.
Just as he opens his mouth to ask what he’s waiting for, two fairies blip into existence. They bounce and bobble around Lancelot’s head. One kisses his temple and giggles away.
“Please inform everyone that he’s awakened,” he asks of them, and the fairies disappear as quickly as they appeared.
Once the bandages are placed, Lancelot takes in his work. His smile is faint yet sincere, like he can no longer hide his heart behind his many masks. “My King,” he whispers.
“Yes, my knight?”
He leans in, blocking the light from his eyes. His dark quills flare out with sudden nerves.
Oh, Sonic thinks, and suddenly, the world becomes small. His old world, his new one, theirs, shared with their new friends and family, everything disappears until Lancelot occupies it, rules it. He owns every part of Sonic, and Sonic can only reach up to close the space between them faster.
“Excuse me, are we interrupting something?”
Sonic laughs as Lancelot shoots upright, a hand covering his audacious mouth. His cheeks burn a deep red, almost purple through the fur, at having been caught.
Lady Nimue and Princess Percival stand in the doorway, hand in hand, sporting their wounds in stride. All of Nimue’s fingers are bandaged, likely from an overuse of magical spells. Percival has a bandage around her forehead and padding over one ear. Behind her, Galahad and Gawain stand on their tiptoes to see over the girls’ heads.
Once they see Sonic awake, Galahad throws his hands up in the air in victory. “Aha! I win!”
Gawain, meanwhile, groans and hides his losing face in his gloves.
“Oh, I’m sorry, Gawain,” Sonic calls out. “Do you want me to stay unconscious longer?”
Gawain jolts up. “N-no, Your Majesty. Not at all. I didn’t—that’s not what I—”
“I’d like to be the first to state that I did not place any bets on the wellbeing of Camelot’s king,” Percival declares. “Though I was hoping for a less embarrassing display. Cover your king, Sir Lancelot, for what little dignity that can still be salvaged.”
“Hey, excuse you,” Sonic says. “Is that any way to treat your neighboring king?”
“You technically are not my neighbor. There is a free, open land between us that seeks a strong ruler.”
“Is that a challenge?”
“Now, now.” Nimue wraps two arms around Percival, making the princess blush. She folds, ears flattening, and her long tail wraps around her woman. “I’m glad to see you in high spirits, King Sonic. Are you feeling better?”
“I am now,” he says honestly. “Everyone okay over there?”
Lady Nimue looks over her shoulder to Galahad galavanting up and down the hall, shouting about his victory over the over knights. Gawain hides behind Percival poorly.
“I believe so,” she says. “That was a commendable battle you waged with Black Doom, Sonic. You should be proud. Villages all across the kingdom are beginning to receive news about your victory.”
“There’s to be a celebration,” Percival announces. “The Sol Empire will provide the victuals. We shall have it here, in the castle.”
“Sounds fun,” Sonic says. “But I’m not big on showboating. Can we make it about you guys instead?”
“Us?” Lancelot asks.
“Yes. Especially you, Lance. People need to understand who you are. No more hiding. You’re beautiful as you are, and I want the world to get to know the real you.”
“Sonic…” Lancelot lightly touches Sonic’s chest above the blankets. Sonic can feel him, though. He knows his touch well by now.
“For now, let us leave the king and his right hand alone,” Lady Nimue says.
“Agreed,” Percival says. “Though we might have to get used to this level of…affections.”
“Yes, because you only permit such levels of affection behind closed doors,” Lady Nimue teases, and Percival babbles incoherently as the door shuts.
“Finally,” Sonic says, and wraps both arms around Lancelot.
“Sire—” Lancelot quickly rolls to avoid injury to either himself or his king. “That’s dangerous!”
“Who cares? I like living on the edge. Plus, now I have you all to myself.”
“We’re both injured.”
“Then we have nowhere to go.”
Lancelot, trapped, unable to say no to his king, settles in bed beside him. His tail finds its way underneath the covers and wraps twice around Sonic’s ankle. Sonic smirks at the sensation. He can’t wait to feel more of it.
He takes his knight underneath the covers. Their broken legs click together and cause them to moan in numbing pain. It takes time, and consideration, and a lot of grunting that horribly embarrasses Sonic, but soon, they’re together. Their quills brush against each other, teasing. Sonic’s hand reaches underneath Lancelot’s undershirt and finds his white patch that covers his heart. His hand sinks into it perfectly.
“You should get some more rest,” Lancelot says. “You have a long recovery ahead of you.”
“I will,” Sonic promises. “Soon, once I’m done with you.”
“Oh? And what will you do to me?”
Beneath the covers, Sonic’s uninjured foot finds Lancelot’s. “Do you truly wish to know?”
“In the state that you’re currently in? Yes, for I don’t see you being able to do much as you are.”
Sonic’s jaw falls to his pillow. He sits upright so that he towers over him. “Is that a challenge? Are you seriously challenging me right now?”
“I would never,” he says. “You wouldn’t be able to match me in this state.”
“Oh, you’re so on.” Sonic grabs for his wrists but misses. He lands against Lancelot’s chest, and his free wing flaps against the floor to distract him. They’re so pretty and he knows it, and he knows how to get Sonic going. What a terrible revelation when in love, when you know exactly how a single word can completely undo you?
Sonic lifts himself across Lancelot’s body. He holds his arms down, pinning him to the bed. The scent of the room’s flowers wafts over and dizzies him.
“Are you alright, Sonic?”
He takes in his knight with a satisfied smile. “I am now, Lance,” and leans down, capturing his lips with his own.
And it feels right. They feel right. He feels right. In a world not built for him, in a dimension far removed from his own, Sonic, with multiple broken bones and new near-death experiences to add to his name, feels right at home in Lancelot’s embrace. His lips warm up with his. His hands pet Sonic’s back quills in a way no other person has touched him before. Sonic leaves his mark all across his face and nose, his ears and chest. Anyway to make his mark on him, on his new world.
And on his new, free life.
── ⋅ ⁺‧₊˚ ༓ ⋆ ♛ ⋆ ༓ ˚₊‧⁺ ⋅ ──
This life positively blows, and it blows hard.
His body hurts. It always hurt, even when his nurses examined him for hours after the attack and found that he had no physical injuries. They never believed him, but he was hurting, burning alive in those castle walls. He tried for so many years to break free. It never worked.
Now, in this purgatory state, where he’s lost his senses and mind, he’s plagued by the sound of yelling, and he’s absolutely sick of it.
He can’t pinpoint the voices, whether they’re in his ear or a mile away. His body does not belong to him and he can’t will them to stop. He doesn’t hold that authority anymore, now that he’s no longer king.
He floats to the surface. Light brightens behind his eyelids. He hears his mother’s voice calling for him. Calling back to him? He feels his mouth moving. He’s gasping, struggling to breathe. His mother, and his siblings? They were right there, weren’t they?
His mouth opens to scream. Water or air rushes in instead, suffocating him. His body, so weak and sick of being alive, confuses itself and fights back. His legs kick back against the darkness. His hands reach out for purchase. He’s been fighting for so long. When does the hurt end?
The shouting shoots up to the surface. The world becomes sudden and violent. Sharp blades of grass tickle the sides of his arms and nestle against his muzzle. Something smells sweet. Strawberries?
Closer voices mix behind him now, not too distant. Someone is worried. Someone shouts.
Groaning, he peeks one eye open.
Lady Nimue watches over him, an angel too blessed for this world. She stares down at him with tears in her round eyes. She’s cut her quills shorter than he last remembered, and her clothes are tighter, more revealing, and—
Arthur blushes and tries to separate himself from her. This’s indecent. He can feel her bare legs. Her pink dress is so short. He can’t take advantage of her like this. She’s made it clear that she doesn’t…
He doesn’t blame her for her lack of desire, but…
But…
He stops. Breathes. Breathes again, then touches his chest. He wears no clothes. His chest still bears the scars from Black Doom, but…
He physically feels the air enter and exit his chest. He feels the grass. He sees his friends, new and old, walking out of some wreckage in the field towards him.
“Sonic?”
Arthur turns. Lady Nimue has a hand to her mouth, too shocked to say more. Gawain and Galahad, battered yet standing, have their mouths open, and a little yellow fox holds back tears.
Lancelot stands maskless and off to the side, arms crossed, glaring annoyingly at Arthur with two eyes instead of three.
Arthur’s fingers instinctively curl into the grass. A handful of blades snap off in his fist. “Huh?”
“Oh, Sonic!” Lady Nimue—Amy, Amy Rose—cannot contain herself and takes Arthur into her arms, hugging him with the strength of three men. She squeals in joy. Her hands are warm.
Arthur stares up into a clearing sky. His body is sore, and his head hurts, and his heart beats loudly and boldly.
His hands find Amy’s bare back. She cries into his shoulder, shuddering from her own tears, and Arthur holds her love close to his heart. He hears her in her voice, his ex-fiancée, his first love he’d been in love with for years, who gave him a second chance at life.
To keep himself from stupidly breaking down in front of a group of strangers, Arthur buries his face in the crook of her soft neck. She still smells the same, of fresh fruit and love. He wonders how that’s possible. He wonders if he and that other blue hedgehog ever shared the same scent.
“What’s wrong with him?” Lancelot—Shadow—asks. “Aside from the usual.”
“How did you even survive?” Galahad—Silver—asks. “You disappeared during that huge explosion, and then you just…appeared!”
They say more, question more. Arthur doesn’t listen. Amy cries into him, and he won’t spend another second without her.
“I-I thought I lost you,” she cries. “I’m so happy to see you again.”
“Me…me, too.” He coughs, not used to speaking with the living.
Amy pats his back. “Just breathe. You’re going to be okay now.”
“And we were able to get rid of the Metal Virus,” Silver says. “We did it!”
“But how did he get here?” Knuckles asks.
Arthur recalls what Sonic told him during their meeting. Right before he got transported to Camelot, this world had survived a catastrophic event. The world around him looks the part. Large, metallic pieces jut out from the ground. Mobians crawl out of debris hugging friends and family, searching for others.
The sky glitters with flecks of rainbows. He blinks, mesmerized.
It’s beautiful. Broken and dirty and smelling of something acidic, but beautiful nonetheless.
Amy pulls back and pushes back the quills from Arthur’s eyes. “What did happen to you, Sonic? Your quills look different.”
“You’re uglier,” Shadow says, and Arthur glares up at him, almost relieved to find that this Lancelot can match Arthur.
“And you’re hurt,” says Tails, a child from Sonic’s world who looks much too young to be involved with so much destruction.
But Arthur is hurt. He’s been hurting for so long, alone yet surrounded by hundreds of servants and friends, and the hurt would likely never fully heal. It’ll remain with him until his last true breath, a reminder that he’s alive and so many aren’t.
“I’ll…be fine,” he tells them. “Though…though I think I hit my head when I fell.”
“Oh, no!” Amy says. “Tails, find Whisper. She can grab the med kit from my bags.”
“Got it!” he says, and the little fox flies off on whatever island they’ve found themselves on. Arthur watches him leave—he’s much too young to be going off on his own, right? Surely someone should watch over him.
Amy gently pushes him back down. “Don’t move, Sonic,” she says. “We’ll take care of you.”
“There’s no need for that,” he says. She’s touching him, she’s touching him.
“Don’t be stupid! You’re all scarred up and look like you’ve seen a ghost. Silver, you should be sitting down, too. You just fell from space.”
“You know, that sounds like a good idea,” he says, and falls back into the grass like a starfish. “You’re really smart, Amy.”
“I know I am.”
Arthur drops his elbows into the grass. He’d seen this woman in reflections, quick snapshots of her in this world, but hearing her, seeing her, feeling her just once more…
His hand brushes against her knee, desperate for the tiniest bit of contact. Amy startles but doesn’t move away. “Sonic, are you okay?”
“I…may have hit my head a bit too hard,” he begins, “and I’m having trouble remembering who I am.”
“Do you mean you have amnesia?”
“What do you remember?” Knuckles asks. “What parts are you forgetting?”
“He wouldn’t be able to remember the parts he’s forgotten,” Shadow retorts.
“Do you remember how to breathe?” Silver asks from the ground.
“Of course I do,” Arthur says. “But, uh, from my time unconscious, it feels like I’ve lived another life.”
Amy holds his hand. “What do you mean?”
He licks chapped lips as they all look at him. The lies form easily on his tongue, ready to protect himself from getting hurt again. His mind knows these people wouldn’t hurt him, as they share the same temperaments and relations as his old friends, but his heart says otherwise. Anyone can hurt him, just as he has the capability of ruining everything again.
His hand interlaces with Amy’s. “For now, can you all call me Arthur instead of Sonic? To help me. It’s a long story that I can—”
“Of course,” Amy says immediately. “Right, everyone? We can do that for him, can’t we?”
“I can try,” Knuckles says.
“If I mess up, let me know,” Silver adds.
“What an absurd name,” Shadow mutters.
Amy smiles up at them, then scoots closer to Arthur. “So, tell us your story, Arthur. We’re listening.”
He doesn’t realize she’s stopped talking until the redness burns through her muzzle. She touches one cheek and looks away. “W-what’re you staring at? What’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” he says honestly. “Can I hug you again?”
Knuckles and Silver share an incredulous look with one another. Shadow rolls his eyes and stalks off. Amy looks over her shoulder to find some hidden meaning to the simple request.
“He really did hit his head,” Knuckles mutters.
“No, no, no.” Amy waves him off with a quick hand. “Do not ruin this for me, Knuckles. Yes, Arthur, you may. Thank you.”
“Thank you,” he says, to whoever was watching over him all his life, whoever gave him this opportunity at life again. He’ll do right this time. He promises it to the world, both new and old, that he’ll make the right decisions this time. He’ll be stronger, and wiser, and kinder, and make the world an easier place for everyone to live.
…Right after another hug.