“Tails!” Amy squealed in delight, tilting her gaze upward to make eye contact with the unexpected guest at her front door.
Tails had spent the entire flight rehearsing the conversation opener in his head, and allowed all except the right words to spill out of his mouth at once. “Amy, hi, it’s good to see here to be you…” he babbled before collecting himself and trying again. “Can I-”
“Come in!” Amy snatched him by the wrist and steered him inside with strength that reminded him of why he had come. She shut the door behind them and pulled Tails further in to the living room.
“Your timing is spot on,” she continued, finally letting go to fetch a loaded tea tray from the kitchen, “The tea is ready, and I just put cookies in the oven. AH!” She nearly slammed the tray on the coffee table to keep Tails from touching the sofa.
“No offense, but I can’t have you smearing grease all over the furniture.”
Tails had left home in such a hurry that he had not even realized he was still wearing his stained coveralls. “Oh, sorry. I can just—” he was interrupted by the loud rustling of heavy plastic as Amy fitted a large clear cover over the sofa, “—stand.”
“Oh no you won’t,” she demanded, shuffling back to the table to pour their tea. “No one’s seen you in how long now? Long enough for your voice to go down and your shoe size to go up! You make yourself comfortable,” she handed him a steaming cup and a saucer, “You’ve got some ‘splaining to do.”
Tails felt the porcelain rattle together in his quivering hands. If he didn’t take control of the conversation now, he would be caught in Amy’s interrogative vortex and lose his nerve long before it was over.
As Amy seated herself in her chair, Tails swiftly set his cup back down on the tray with more force than was necessary; spilling some of its contents, and freezing Amy mid-squat with her eyes wide open.
“I didn’t come for an interview!” Tails folded his arms, hoping to hide his uncontrollable shiver. “I need your advice.”
Amy’s sweet demeanor turned sour as she finished sitting down. “You want my advice?” she asked, reaching for her teacup with a narrow glare. “Stay out of the theater; you can’t act. I can see you shaking from here.”
She pointed past Tails, who turned to see both of his tails stiffly trembling behind him. He slumped forward and groaned in defeat, his tails and ears sagging limply in kind.
“Sorry,” he sighed sincerely and dropped onto the crinkling couch. “I’ve got a conundrum—a problem—”
“I know what a conundrum is.”
“—and I need your help with it… please.”
Amy turned back into a ray of sunshine. “Why didn’t you say so? That’s how you ask a favor: like a gentleman. Not like a [i]knucklehead[/i].”
Tails flinched at the deliberate choice of pejorative.
“So.” Amy crossed her legs, “what’s bugging you?”
“I want to ask something first,” Tails said, revitalized. “What’s your beef with Knuckles?” His inquiry came off far more aggressive than intended. “He’s our friend, but I don’t think I’ve ever once heard you speak favorably of him.”
Amy soured again, but at least this time it wasn’t directed at Tails.
“He’s a friend by proxy,” she scoffed, crossing her arms. “You and Sonic get along with him, if that’s what you call it when you fight. Every time I’ve tried to talk to him, I may as well have been chatting with a brick wall. Actually, I think a brick wall might have offered a more lively conversation.”
Tails rested his chin in his hand. “He is abrasive at times, but-” A light clicked on in his head. “You’ve never been to Angel Island, have you?” he asked.
“Can’t say that I have,” Amy shrugged.
Tails snapped his fingers. “You’ve only seen him at his worst. There’s a reason why Knuckles is the way he is: he’s always working—always stressed. The most powerful thing in the world, and he has to watch out for it all the time or who knows what will happen. If he leaves home, it’s because something is very wrong.
“Imagine you have an extinct animal as a pet. It’s the last one known to exist, and it’s as dangerous as it is beautiful. One way or another, you lose it. Anyone or anything could have taken it or hurt it or worse. It could be hurting others without knowing any better. It could be anywhere in the world in all kinds of trouble, and whether or not it was your fault, it was in [i]your[/i] care. If anything happens to it, it’s [i]your[/i] responsibility. Whatever Knuckles was feeling when you met him, it was probably worse than that.”
There was a long silence wherein Tails’ vision had misted over. He took his cup and a napkin to wipe off the spill from earlier when he heard Amy snatch her own cup off the tray. She took a long gulp, set it back down, and slowly exhaled. Tails finished drying off his dishes and took a sip. The aroma induced a soothing sense of nostalgia, but he burnt his tongue on the tea; it was still steaming hot.
It was Amy who finally broke the silence. “He keeps it together better than I would.”
A simple compliment from the most unexpected place sent Tails’ heart fluttering. His newfound ardor broke the melancholic atmosphere that he had inadvertently built.
“He does, but I wanted to help mitigate some of that pressure, so I installed nanoscopic cameras at key points around the island; you can’t even tell they’re there, even if you’re looking for them. I knew he’d be resistant at first, but after only a few weeks, he may as well have forgotten all about them.
“Of course, the Master Emerald itself is the most important part, which is where Knuckles spends virtually all of his time.”
“Yeah?” Amy leaned forward with a sly smile. “What’s he do when he’s all alone?”
“A whole lot of nothing.”
Amy’s enthusiasm evaporated immediately. “Should have guessed.”
“He stands around, lies around, does a bunch of pushups, shadowboxing, picks fruit when he gets hungry…”
Amy reclined back and sipped her tea while Tails prattled on.
“How many pushups does he do?” she asked, interrupting his lengthening list of activities.
“I don’t think he counts, but the most I’ve seen was a hundred and seventy-three, and even then I think he just got bored because he didn’t look even a little tired. He never does.”
Amy’s cup came down to reveal another fresh smirk. “Go on.”
“Anyway, he sleeps there too, just out in the open. I offered him a tent and a sleeping bag, but he insisted it would be an encumbrance—that he needs to be ready and alert at a moment’s notice—” Tails chuckled to himself, “and I know better than to argue with a brick wall.
“But something changed a few weeks ago. Normally when he sleeps, he’s motionless. It’s more like he’s meditating.”
Amy put her drink down. Her smirk was ready to stretch past her face, barely able to contain her anticipation to put Tails in the checkmate he couldn’t see.
“Lately, though, he’s been…” Tails fidgeted around on the couch trying to think of the right word, crumbling the plastic loudly beneath him. “restless? And… excited.”
He slowly lifted one leg over the other to hide his own rising “excitement,” disturbing the plastic again.
Amy couldn’t hold back any longer. “That jumpsuit getting a little tight for you, Tails?”
Just like that, the rest of him also went stiff.
“So you’re taking time out of your day to helpfully snoop on him, obsess over his routine, and watch him sleep. Have you made a lookalike to take with you to bed yet?”
Tails’ dead silence was perhaps a more resounding admittance than anything he could have said had he the will to speak.
Amy stood up, stretched, and made her way over to the couch. “I know how the rest of the story goes,” she said, pacing steadily about. “Knuckles has been rejecting your advances, so you came to [i]the expert[/i],” she paused to gesture to herself, soaking in the satisfaction, “to learn how to get him to admit his own feelings for you.”
“Actually, that’s-”
[i]DING[/i]
The oven timer reminded them both of the scent of baking cookies dominating the house. The aromatic promise of sweet treats leveled their moods, and Amy went to retrieve the spoils. She came back with a plate piled indiscriminately with decorative sugar cookies, and a neat row in front to sample each of the shapes, all of which were modeled and color coordinated with absolute accuracy after the distinct silhouettes of their friends.
There was Knuckles, then Tails, then Sonic, and Amy right next to him; and hers was the only shape that faced left.
“Expecting company?” asked Tails, marveling at the size of the stack.
“Expecting Sonic,” Amy giggled, picking a cookie blindly out of the bunch. “He loves these.”
Tails chuckled nervously and reached for the pile. “Should have known.”
“Make sure to leave some of the yellow ones,” Amy instructed with a mouthful of cookie, “those are his favorite.”
Tails froze. He felt his lips start to quiver, and steered his reach towards his teacup instead, taking a piping hot swig to wash down the lumps in his throat. He understood then how Amy had done it so easily.
Reaching back to the plate, he fished out a Sonic cookie and cradled it in his hand, reminiscing. Memories of their time together invoked a certain bittersweetness that Tails had tried to conquer, but instead repressed.
The two of them were inseparable, but as he grew older, he recognized that as a problem; for he found himself subconsciously mimicking his idol, and worried that without independence, he might never become his own person. That was why he moved to the floating island: it was one place he could be free of Sonic’s influence; one place Sonic could not reach.
He remembered the big goodbye, and how Sonic could barely look at him, much less talk to him. It didn’t make his tearful departure any easier; especially since, to spare Sonic’s feelings, he had lied about his reason for leaving. Sonic must have seen right through him. The first several weeks on his own, Tails was haunted by the memory of Sonic’s cold shoulder, cogitating on what exactly had upset him so much. He worried that his best friend had formed his own conclusion for the emigration, and that he resented him for it. The thought of confronting Sonic provoked many sleepless nights, and Tails feared that possibility whenever he left the island.
“They are fun to look at, but I promise they’re more fun to eat.” Amy’s voice woke him from his cookie-induced trance. He took a bite out of reflex; but the sweet, heavenly taste and warm, soft texture that crumbled with every effortless chew made him regret not taking his time. “You were going to say something?”
Tails nodded quickly to secure his turn in the conversation; he didn’t want to lose it while he savored Amy’s baking. “I was gonna say,” he finally swallowed, “Knuckles doesn’t know.” The volume of his voice was gradually dropping. “I haven’t talked to him about it yet.”
“Tails,” Amy sighed in disappointment and took a Knuckles cookie. “From one admirer to another, how can you expect someone as dim—” She stopped herself before her tone got any more heated, glancing at the treat in her hand “—as stubborn as Knuckles to requite your affection if you can’t first confess to him?”
“I know he feels the same way…”
“That’s the spirit!”
“Because I heard him just before I left, saying my name in his sleep.” Tails heard Amy’s teeth clack together as they cut full force through her cookie. She had been reduced to a blank, unblinking stare. “And then he…” Tails paused to consider sharing the rest, and decided that if he didn’t, Amy might be stuck wearing that unflattering expression for the rest of her life, “he made a mess.”
Amy stood back up and balled her fists, pulverizing the echidna-shaped pastry within in an instant. “No fair!” she pouted. “How come you get the easy one? All the work is done for you! What do you need my help for if your special someone already likes you back? Just tell him it’s meant to be; it probably is!”
“Because I don’t know if I should.” Tails almost shouted, though his frustration quickly metamorphosed into sadness. “I’ve upset Sonic enough,” he squeaked.
“Upset?” Amy softened up, leaving a trail of crumbs which she didn’t seem to notice falling from her hand as she made her way over to Tails to sit beside him, much to the protest of the plastic cover. “What happened?”
“I left.” Tails pressed his hands into his eyes. “Remember that day? He wouldn’t-”
“He couldn’t face you. I remember. No one saw him for days after that.”
“Do you think he’s still mad about it?” Tails asked, rubbing the tears from his eyes.
“Sonic? Mad? At you?” Amy’s amusement from the impossible suggestion stopped abruptly, and she clapped her hand over her mouth to muffle a gasp. “That’s what you thought? No, silly! He could never. He just…” She pulled out a handkerchief and passed it to a sniffling Tails. “He just didn’t want anyone, certainly not you, to see him like I see you now.”
Tails assaulted his borrowed cloth with emotional leakage. He hated himself for being so reticent. All that turmoil could have been spared if he had just talked it out a long time ago, but feeling Amy’s gentle touch rubbing up and down on his back helped to quiet his weeping. “He could have handled it a lot better,” she whispered.
“Is he alright now?” he asked after finally settling down.
Amy’s eyes widened as she wiped off her hand with a napkin. She sighed and opened up the dirtied napkin for Tails to drop off his soggy hankey before balling it up and handing him a fresh one.
“I asked him the same thing after he started talking again. He was actually doing great; he said he’d been worrying way too much, and that if there was anyone he could count on to make sure you were safe, it was Knuckles.” She laughed. “I guess he was more right than he knew, huh?”
Tails dangled the handkerchief between his fingers. “Then what’s this for?”
“Whenever I went to look for him, he wasn’t in his usual spots. I had to relearn all of his vista points and relaxing places.”
“You’re the only one who considers that a tragedy, Amy.”
“I thought it was arbitrary at first, but I checked out each one myself and noticed that all of them, every single one, has a clear view of Angel Island—of you.”
Tails looked as though he was peeling off an exceptionally sticky bandage. He managed to regain his composure without exploding again, but still had to dab his eyes and wipe his nose.
“Whenever you would come down to do your shopping, he knew about it, and he would go to see you; but if you haven’t talked to him at all, he was probably just giving you the space you wanted.”
“So you knew?”
“Tails, everyone knew. You are THE worst liar. Don’t let anyone tell you secrets.”
Tails blushed and made a mental note.
“But he’s been more and more distant lately. He would never admit it, but I think he’s scared.”
Tails gulped audibly. “Scared of what?” He hoped he didn’t know the answer.
“Scared that you’d moved on—that he’d been abandoned. You never come to see us, so he might be assuming the worst. Must be a boy thing.”
Tails felt his fingertips tingle. He was dizzy and lightheaded, huffing and puffing through his nose faster and faster. He tried a myriad of different words to get a sentence started, all of which carried the distinct sound of denial, before pulling out his flashlight and throwing open the front door, calling out for his friend.
No sign, no response. Just one swift breeze in the still night air, gone as soon as it came.
He fell to his knees, allowing his breath to even out.
“No doubt, he heard everything.” Amy walked up beside him.
“I hope so,” Tails heaved. “He wouldn’t want me to get distracted.”
“I think you’re right,” Amy cheered. She gently kicked him in the side and pointed. “Look!”
Tails aimed his flashlight on target to find his plane, caked with dust from weeks of worryful neglect. On the side was a doodle in the dust of Sonic himself, throwing out his trademark ‘victory’ sign with a simple message underneath:

GO4IT