Chapter Text
One day, she appeared to him, his quills blue like the sky, shimmering like the sun. And one night, she appeared to him, as bright as the fallen snow around the both of them as the bladed moon hung mournfully in the sky, standing before her as if he was stuck in a different time and place.
“I’m lost,” the one who was once called Sonic said to her, his stature dwindling and herself nearly towering over him the longer she appeared to scrutinize him. “I’m lost. Cold. And I don’t know where to go anymore.”
Shadow told her of these things. That sometimes, Sonic had moments where he would still traverse down the familiar places he would once dash past, all appearing as a smeared drip on a canvas, no longer retaining the usual brightness and colour everything once had. Sometimes he would wake up out of his perpetual dream and find himself in a dark, unrecognizable place, unsure of how he even got himself in such places in the first place. Then, he often runs scared. It was terrifying, Amy couldn’t help to think, for someone as fast as him to find himself in these lonely, needle-pricked paths, seemingly out of your control as you could feel yourself drifting off to somewhere else with as much of a blink or a shake of your head. When she was much younger, feeling almost as little and scared as Sonic did, his hands shaking subtly in her doorway as his pupils remained unfocused on her, she once thought that he was standing bigger and taller than she was, able to shield her from all the no good, hurtful things in life.
Sometimes, it was strange to her, to seemingly have these firm, resolute ideals that they had for each other, completely turned on its head. To have Sonic see her with those same twinkling, adoring eyes that she once had when he rescued her from the Little Planet, all because she told him that she would keep him safe and warm in his arms, for as long as he needed, until the sunshine and rain would make him grow to his original size again.
She wasn’t sure how it all happened. Even to her, in her mind that was always grounded in the same time and place at almost all times, it all appeared to her in a scrambled blur, trying to pick up all the noticeable yet tiny details that were occurring as his body immediately plunged into her chest, holding on as if Amy was the only anchor he had left to prevent himself from drowning inside his mind. His muzzle was wet, his ears pinned back, his voice bubbling and almost intangible. It was almost instinct for Amy, for her to just allow him to shrink inside her, petting and stroking the back of his quills as she sighed deeply, her warm breath tickling and susurrating his ears as his grip loosened, Amy whispering in a hushed tones. She wasn’t even thinking. These were just things that came naturally to her, especially when regarding such friends of hers like Sonic.
“Shhhh…it’s okay, sweetie. I’m here. I’m here now. Let’s get you wrapped in a nice blanket with some hot cocoa.”
Amy couldn’t stop herself from emitting a small gasp as almost as suddenly as Sonic appeared to her through the door like some sort of ethereal being, his body almost went completely lax and limp, his paws tugging onto her red skirt as if he was only as tall as the wilting irises in Amy’s vase she’s neglected to water.
“My name is Lamb. Can you please hold me…for a little bit? I…hope I’m not…scary, to you.”
Oh, to see someone so small, so meek, his paws clearly raised high and clamoring for her maternal love, telling her that he was supposed to be frightening, a sickening creature who’s not supposed to exist in the eyes of the cynical and the ones with their heads swimming full in denial. A literal lost, forlorn little lamb. Amy’s heart would pang and beat momentarily in pain. Sonic was no longer here, her hero, but it didn’t matter. The poor lamb would deserve her love all the same.
How can you care for someone like him when you’ve never had it together yourself? At your age, you should be married, with a nice husband who can support you, and…
Her mother’s words echoed relentlessly through her head, even if all of her attention was mainly concentrated on Sonic’s shift in his state of mind, making sure he was fully comfortable, giving him a steaming mug of balming honeyed milk as his glittering green eyes remained focused on her television screen, his mind once more somewhere else. It at the very least was a better somewhere else, even if she was currently stuck in her own mental somewhere else too. They all would tell her the same things. Your mother simply wanted the best for you. Amy never denied that maybe she did. But she kept drowning her with too much water, burning her with too much searing sunlight. At the sapling age of thirteen, she had to focus on paying rent for her own apartment, having enough funds to buy what food she knew she had to cook to exactly her internal specifications, think about what kind of woman she wanted to end up forming into as if she also was her own sculptor and her body was modeling clay. At the age of thirteen, still damp with the morning’s twinkling dew, she had to do many things most hedgehogs her age never had to think about doing. There seemingly was never enough time to indulge in the simple pleasures in her life that were brighter and better when you were younger and your body wasn’t heavy with the growing pains of the world. Her mother would always tell her no, and it was all because she wanted the best for her. Her daughter. Already becoming her little woman underneath her overbearing, cumbersome wings.
You’re actually lucky that you have a mother like me, guiding you to living a much more fulfilling life than whatever you wanted to do, dear. All I’m trying to do, is help you.
Dragging a lime blanket throw across her floor like foaming ocean waves, a smile creased on her lips as without a word she would pick up the long, heavy tail of the blanket Lamb couldn’t lift and weave it around his neck, swaddling him wholly in the cashmere fabric. She would only giggle as she witnessed Lamb squirming and snuffling like happy hoglets were wont to do, wanting to be fully balmed and smothered with her downy, soft kindness.
Why do you feel like hurting me, Amy? I’m disappointed in you. I told you you should’ve found a nice man to settle with for the rest of your life and be a good wife. Why are you going against everything I’ve said? I’ve done everything to raise you into a good woman who would get everything she ever wanted in life, and this is all you give me to thank me? Whittling my fine manicured nails into the bone just to find you a nice apartment, a good career…
She gave her everything but anything she truly wanted. Love, recognizing her for what she truly was, respect, decency. The same sweet, nourishing delights she was giving to Lamb right now that she was still craving and hungry for, but she’d tell no one, not even to herself, except on the coldest and grayest of days when she’d have no one but herself to comfort her. Because she knew the Mother that always admonished her for her silly, immature decisions inside her head certainly wasn’t going to.
I don’t know why you do these things to hurt me, Amy. I’ve always loved you, ever since you were a little girl, now into a fully bloomed woman, and now you’re turning your back on me, ruining everything I’ve ever built for you…
Sure, maybe she did have a passing attraction to Sonic when she first saw him, radiant and as shining and proud as he first appeared to her, saving her from the razorred clutches of his metallic doppelganger. But at her age? Maybe it was common for her to feel these things, especially when no one who was even bigger than Sonic wanted to protect her like they should’ve. All she wanted, was for someone to look at her with a non-discerning gaze. Someone to recognize that she was going to have faults, she was going to fall, she was going to get dirty and not be a pretty colourful rose sometimes but she was capable of picking herself back up and making it all better again. But it was as if the bigger everyone seemed to be compared to her, the more deaf they were, the more small and quiet her voice was, and they could never hear her pleas. Her cries for normalcy and consideration. All thrown out, because she wasn’t the exact splitting image her mother actually always wanted to be.
And Sonic was just the first to smile for her, to see something so bright and genuine in her tumultuous life, that she knew everything wasn’t going to be gray and dark for her for much longer. Sure, she actually finally did grow up later in life, without the help of her mother, and that attraction to him has since faded away.
If you were actually wise Amy Rose, you would’ve married him…
If Amy Rose was actually wise, she would’ve made neither of them happy. No, instead, she had to be a foolish little girl and instead think about others rather than her prospects in life. To her mother, that was the difference between men and women. Men thought of themselves; women instead thought of everyone else, much to their own detriment.
She thought of everyone else, mending and fixing their own cracks and scars that she often forgot about her own that were still marked harshly on her soul. She was watering all the other plants surrounding her that she forgot about her own in her vase, tired and slumped as its life was incrementally drained away.
She would never understand how it felt to navigate through a life that never felt like it was completely yours, with a fragmented mind. But she wanted to tell Sonic, whenever she believed he felt he was ready to leave through her door again, as tall and as proud, nearly mythical, exactly like that first day her eyes the same shade of his own graced his, that she could understand why it hurt him so. How it felt to have a gnawing, withering hole inside of you, wanting to be fed with compassion and undivided attention from a baby-sized jar, swallowing all the gooey sweet potato and carrot mush as if you were afraid you’d never be given it with a tiny silver spoon ever again. She wished she could be back in time and somehow make her mother love her. But even if she had the ability, she knew it was as impossible of a task as making time travel an actual reality. She could follow each and every single one of her mother’s demands to exactly the dotted line shaped like a heart, and Mom still would’ve found something else to chastise her with. Amy was never going to be like her mother, and she knew.
Lamb yawned, his tremendous tired roar still sounding as small and hushed as himself. His limbs were splayed across Amy’s body as she gently swayed him in her warm hold, his tummy kindled and soothed by her mug of honey-drizzled milk. Almost barely able to lift his heavy lids open, Lamb mumbled half coherently with dreamful sleep, Amy unable to hear it if the only sound that remained in her apartment now was only the sound of her heartbeat, his favorite shows turned off. Before she would coax and tuck the hoglet into her bed, deciding this would be the rare time she’d sleep on the couch. Her mother would never approve of such a thing either, if she still cared.
“Thank you…for loving me, Mommy. I…we…we all…needed it…”
She wished she could tell him. She wished she could tell him how much he truly meant to her. Why seeing him on these days never bothered her. Because she knew if she was on the other end, Sonic would’ve dropped everything and done the very same for her. And in a sense, he truly did, especially when Amy had no one else, until she came across his bright, alluring smile that drew her in along with the rest of his colourful cast of friends.
“Goodnight Lamb,” Amy said, pulling him underneath a velvety current inside her vast ocean of quilts and blankets, yet her heart was always attuned to him, keeping him anchored to her love. “When and if Sonic wakes up…can you please tell him that I…needed this too?”
An encompassing smile would stretch on Lamb’s muzzle, even bigger than his tiny, hushed voice. “Don’t worry Amy. Even if he still doesn’t want to show up later, I can let him know. These things make him feel better too. And it’s always good when he feels better.”
It hadn’t been long, but Amy knew that Lamb wasn’t like most children. He was more intuitive about the emotions of others, almost looking effulgent and ethereal like an angel to Amy’s strained eyes. She didn’t want to, but she quickly shifted the lights to her bedroom off, not wanting him to see her glittering tears on her wet muzzle, his visage too holy and bright for her vision to fully take anymore.
“I’m glad,” she whispered to no one, leaving a crack of moonlight to pacify her little lamb as she walked away from her door, her voice cracked and choked. “I’m so glad.”