Why is he running from me?
	The question infested Knuckles' thoughts as he glided over the Adabatian jungle to follow his mark's animated trail, apparent even in the twilight. Dust clouds dispersed above the conspicuous track of convulsing trees and agitated wildlife. The canopy may have hidden his form, but there was no mistaking the havoc of Sonic's blistering wake.
	The sky had given Knuckles the advantage he needed both to keep up and keep watch. Sonic may not have even realized he had been followed from above, which would explain his careless abuse of speed that lay bare his location, ever changing though it may be. The more Knuckles considered it, however, the more it unsettled him; even for Sonic, this was sloppy.
	The sun had practically set. Just as Knuckles was losing both vision and altitude, Sonic had abruptly lost all evident locomotion; at last, the jungle was still.
	Knuckles prepared to drop off on target to finally grill his rival, but nearly fumbled his composure at the sudden protestant screams from below. Literal cries of agony, tears and all, pierced the silence. Abandoning finesse, he stood up mid-air, plunging straight through the blanket of vegetation into a disheveled landing at ground level, fists at the ready.
	He looked all around, but there was no one, at least no one he could see. What little moonlight there was had been mostly blocked by the foliage ceiling, forcing his eyes to adjust all over again, and the sounds of Sonic's suffering had vanished completely, leaving only the sound of crickets.
	Knuckles suppressed the urge to call out; he knew better. Anything that could get Sonic to make noises like that was no joke, and it could see better than him. There was going to be a fight, and he couldn't afford to provide any more advantages.
	A violent rustling in the brush behind him caught Knuckles' attention just soon enough to react to the pair of claws cutting through the air in his direction. He heard them whizz by his head as he dived clear, recovering in a somersault along the ground to see the attached rope-like appendages dig themselves into the earth where he had stood.
	They gave the floor a sharp tug, catapulting the hulking figure of their beastly owner through the air from the cover of the bushes. As the creature approached the impact zone, the appendages shrank and widened like bungee cords, reforming to their chunky proportions as it landed with a small quake.
	Those are its arms, Knuckles realized as he stood, shaping up the enigmatic creature. They never left its body.
 	The creature was cloaked in darkness with a color palette to match: a night stalker in its natural habitat. Knuckles could tell from the silhouette that the thing was at least twice his size in both directions, and with an exponentially meatier upper body. The only visible feature against the dark was its luminescent red eyes, clouded still by the steam of its breath.
	The creature let out a deep, aggravated roar that thrummed in Knuckles' chest, and resumed its assault immediately; deep, furious snarls escaping its throat with every strike. While devoid of technique; the weighty blows, obscured in the dark, displaced the air with an unrelenting speed and ferocity that sent Knuckles floundering backwards as he struggled to maintain his guard, threatening to throw him off balance while he searched for an opening that wasn't there.
	Knuckles took the pummeling, hoping an opportunity to counter would become more obvious to him as his eyes adjusted.
	Nothing. He grunted and breathed through his teeth, his defense lagging against the nonstop onslaught. This was not going to work; he needed another tactic.
	Knuckles prepared to block another hit, this time riding the force of the impact to propel himself backward, skidding across the ground and granting enough space between him and his opponent to force an approach.
	He stayed low to keep his composure, noticing for the first time the monster's shoes: cleated soles with long, sharp spikes.
	It might not even flinch with bulk and traction like that, Knuckles assessed by the end of his short retreat. He needed one big, heavy, well-placed surprise punch to guarantee a victory; and he would only get one shot at it.
	He formulated a plan, but had another delayed revelation: No wild animal wears shoes. What is this?
	Knuckles prepared himself, anticipating the next attack, and got just what he wanted. The monster threw its stretching arms forward in a double straight punch, reaching what had to be the outer limits of its range. Knuckles weaved just barely out of the way, and caught one of the arms in both hands as it retracted with alarming force, yanking him forward to its point of origin.
	Gripping his ride tightly with one hand, Knuckles tensed and strained his muscles to pull back his free fist as far as his body would allow. The beast's utterly confused face came into view, and Knuckles launched his fist forward, twisting his entire body towards the target through the air to maximize the magnitude of his punch. With no way to defend, fist and face made explosive contact.
	Timing. Technique. Precision. Everything culminated in artistic perfection. A clean hit on target at full force. Knockout.
	Knuckles landed gracefully and dusted off his palms as the beast toppled backwards to the ground. The arm he'd rode in on was noticeably longer than the other, probably dislocated before it could complete its return trip.
	"Sonic?" Knuckles called into the jungle. "That thing is out cold. Are you alright?"
	No response. Just the crickets again, and fitful moaning from the unconscious creature.
	He kept calling, but gave up and scoffed. Sonic could be miles away by now if he wanted.
	What had him screaming? This? Knuckles pondered, glancing at the body. Far be it from Sonic to dance all over something like that. What gives?
	He stood over the motionless figure and sank to his knees, straddling it in case it became violent again. This might be his only chance to get some answers.
	"Hey," he demanded coldly, lacking pity for whatever just tried to kill him.
	No reply. Even asleep, its fanged scowl showed only rage.
	Knuckles grabbed it by its shoulders and tried shaking it awake when he heard a thump splash the grass and the dirt beside him. He dropped the monster and felt around for whatever had fallen off its person.
	Got it. It was—
	"A chaos emerald?!"
	It couldn't be. But it was. Where was its color? Its power? How would he fix it? Were they all like this? Where were the rest?
	"Get up!" Knuckles' patience had vanished. He socked the pinned creature across the face, forcing it awake, and shoved the blackened emerald into its vision. "Where did you get this?"
	The creature's demeanor had neither calmed nor agitated. Knocking it out had only put it on pause. With its one good arm, it lashed out at Knuckles who neither flinched nor broke eye contact as he caught it with his free hand. He exploited pressure points in the creature's fuzzy, meaty wrist to stifle its struggle, laid its arm flat across its body, and punched straight down into its elbow, earning a roar of pain and a crunch of bone. Both of its arms were now useless.
	"Talk!" Knuckles shouted, echoing through the jungle and startling the wildlife. He pushed the dead jewel back into the creature's face, "Where did you get this?"
	All he got out of the interrogation was severe, desperate thrashing; his detainee was trying to bite him. The pain from its crippled arms had been completely forgotten.
	Knuckles gave it a swift sucker punch to the face to shut it up, pulled his arm back, and smashed his fist into the ground right beside the creature's head, creating a small crater and an echoing quake. The creature did not seem to notice, and resumed its violent writhing.
	He jerked his fist free from the ground and brought it up to the creature's chest, making sure it could see the hardened earth still stuck to his spikes as they spilled out onto its body. He gently pressed those spikes into the creature as a warning.
	"Last chance," he said softly in a last-ditch attempt to coax words out of it. "How did you get that emerald?"
	Agitated barking and snapping.
	Knuckles' face tightened, his brow slanting more. He pressed his fist harder, and his voice started to shake. "Where, is, my friend?" jamming his fist harder, and picking up intensity with each pause.
	No change.
	He raised his fist as high as he could reach, and plunged it as hard as he could, spikes first, into the monster's chest. An audible juicy puncture squashed out. The monster raised its head, widened its eyes, and opened its maw to the fullest extent as if to scream, but nothing came out besides a quiet puff of oxygen.
	Knuckles pulled out his fist, planting his other hand on the body to keep it from pulling up with him. The spikes were fully painted with blood. Some trickled onto his glove, the rest dripped off the tip, and more oozed out of the two open wounds in the creature's chest.
	It was as though he had performed an exorcism: the violent tendencies dissipated entirely, and it looked like the suffering thing was trying to talk. It was seizing, breathing short and shallow, desperately struggling to get a word out.
	Knuckles, still straddling the creature, pressed down on it to abate the seizure, staring into its bright red eyes waiting for some kind of answer. It calmed down a surprising amount almost instantly, and its face became weakened and sorrowful. Finally, it started to speak.
	"N-n...Knuckles..." it sluggishly wheezed.
	Knuckles felt a jolt in his stomach. There were at least six things he wanted to ask, but it barely managed to get out his name. As he let it stutter out whatever was left to say, he watched the red neon haze in its eyes fade away to unveil a pair of unmistakable stupefying emerald irises that sent his heart rate far higher than it had been all night.
	"Sonic...?" he gasped, hoping for once to be wrong.
	Sonic managed a grin, and attempted a chuckle which came out as a cough that trickled blood out of the corner of his mouth. Knuckles scrambled off of him to shift his pressure to the leaking holes he had punched into his friend 
	All else he could get out was a long hiss before barely breathing a "sorry" into Knuckles' ear as he dropped his head and faded out of consciousness again.
	"Hey! Sonic! Stay awake!" Knuckles briskly slapped him in the face to no avail, inadvertently smearing blood all over it. He cursed under his breath. He was just about to give up his dignity and yell for anyone to help when—
	"Knuckles!"
	—help came. It was Tails carrying a box, accompanied by a small flying purple thing with a flashlight that matched its size. Questions and introductions could wait.
	"Tails! It's-"
	"Sonic!" Tails and his friend exclaimed together, shining the light on Sonic's figure.
	They knew? "He needs help. I-" Knuckles stopped himself just in time. They didn't need to know everything. "We need to stop the bleeding. Do you have anything to help?"
	"I have everything to help." Tails dropped his box on the floor and popped it open. It was full of medical supplies. He wasted no time collecting what he needed and getting to work. "Chip! We need lights!"
	"Gotcha." Tails' little friend hurriedly hovered above the three of them with the flashlight, illuminating the entire workspace.
	Tails went right to work on the most pressing injury: the holes in Sonic's chest. Knuckles kept his distance, pacing about, trying in futility not to think about the operation that he had necessitated. Sonic's whimpers of pain were both miserable and comforting to hear: their friend was in agony, but he was very much alive.
	"You're gonna be alright," Tails assured with surprising confidence. "What could have done this?"
	Knuckles winced. "I'm glad you're here," he said, changing the subject, "but how did you know where to find us with just what we needed?"
	"Chip found me," Tails explained while he disinfected the wounds. "He said Sonic was in the jungle and something was wrong with him, but that's all. I grabbed a first aid kit and followed the sounds."
	"Something was wrong," Knuckles repeated. He looked up, addressing Chip, "What was wrong with him?"
	"I dunno. It was right after he saw you and ran away."
	Tails finished applying the gauze just in time to let himself get invested in Chip's story. "Sonic ran away? From Knuckles?"
	"It was strange. I thought maybe he just didn't like him, but he looked like he was afraid of something."
	"He was afraid of me?" Knuckles pointed to himself.
	Tails shook his head. "Don't be silly, you're best friends." Knuckles winced again. "Besides, Sonic isn't afraid of anything tangible, except water. If he was afraid of something, it'd have to be..."
	"Sundown!" Chip caught on. "I remember! Sonic was so sad when Amy didn't recognize him. He probably didn't want you to see him like this and tried to get away!"
	"He changes at sundown. How do we get him back to normal?"
	"He'll change back at sunrise," Tails clarified, wiping the blood off Sonic's face with a damp cloth. "He and Chip have been restoring the chaos emeralds one by one at temples all over the world. They only have one more to go."
	I could have just left well enough alone and he might be fine now. Knuckles beat himself up mentally and felt his throat tighten. The more he knew, the worse he felt.
	"What about his arms?" He asked as Tails put his supplies away.
	Tails shrugged. "I'm a mechanic, not a doctor. Whatever is wrong with them, I don't want to risk making it any worse, and I don't want to move him either, at least not at night."
	"Right. I'll watch out for him until morning," Knuckles proclaimed, eager to atone.
	"We'll watch him until morning," Tails corrected. "It'll be fun, like a campout."
	Knuckles felt a twinge of annoyance at Tails' upbeat tone fresh off the operating table. The familiarity of it left him with an odd sense of calm that made him snicker.
	"He's rubbing off on you, you know," he told him.
	Tails blushed and struggled to come up with a verbal response, instead sticking out a hand to shake. Knuckles reciprocated the gesture, but as he did, Tails reeled backwards in horror at the sudden realization.
	"Knuckles!" he screamed. "It was you! You tried to kill Sonic!"
	Knuckles felt his stomach drop. He looked down at his hand. His spikes were still painted a thick coat of red.
	Tails continued to clumsily backpedal in fear, tripping over his tails and scrambling backwards on the floor.
	"What did he tell you this time, huh? What did Eggman tell you to get you to do that?"
	Knuckles made no attempt to follow nor stop him; it would only scare him more. He took a deep breath and decided to introduce the facts slowly, or Tails might not believe him.
	"It wasn't Eggman," he started.
	"It was me," came a new voice from behind.
	Sonic. Chip had been trying to wake him up during the altercation.
	"Surprise...!" he exclaimed weakly.
	Everyone gathered back around so he wouldn't have to speak so loudly.
	"I wasn't scared of how Knuckles would see me. I was scared of how he wouldn't see me. The only thing more painful than a beating from him is being dismissed by the ones you care about most. I should have trusted you, but I ran instead. Now my best friends can't even trust each other.
	"I don't know what happened. I was scared, and it made me angry. Before I knew it, I was taking it out on what I thought I was scared of. You can pin it on Dark Gaia, but I should have confided in my friends instead of running from them in the first place."
	"Sonic," said Chip, "you're so..."
	"candid" Tails gushed, crying.
	"sappy" Knuckles said, crossing his arms.
	"Don't get used to it," Sonic sighed, "and Tails, do me one more favor."
	Tails sniffled and wiped the tears from his eyes.
	"Take Chip and go. Let me and Knuckles finish the night alone."
	"Sonic?"
	"We both just tried to destroy each other. We have things to wrap up."
	Tails cracked an understanding smile, "What else is new?"
	The two of them were on their way out of the clearing when Sonic called to them one more time.
	"Tails," Sonic looked to Tails and then to the gauze on his chest. "Thanks.
	"And Chip. You got any chocolate?"

* * *

	Knuckles had brought a large log for Sonic to rest his head on. What happened instead was that Knuckles sat upright against it while Sonic rested his head on him.
	"I always knew you were holding back," Sonic told him.
	"What's that supposed to mean?"
	"Remember the first time we met, when you thought I was the bad guy. You hit me so hard that I dropped all of the chaos emeralds. Until then, I thought I was invincible, and you proved me wrong with one punch."
	"It was my turf; you didn't stand a chance."
	"And then by the end of the day we got to have a real fight, on your turf, and you couldn't even touch me."
	Knuckles grunted. The sass in Sonic's voice was completely uncalled for.
	"Every time we fought since then, I've wondered where that first punch went, and why. You never gave me the same fight you give everything else."
	"And you think you've figured it out."
	"I bet you never even tried after that first time. You're a terrible liar, you know that?"
	"Remember who put you in the hospital. You're lying on him."
	"I knew you cared."
	Knuckles had no comebacks. Sonic was right about everything.
	"That punch of yours that tore me open tonight. If I wasn't a big scary monster, I guarantee that would have killed me, but you could never have done it if you knew it was me."
	The silence simmered long enough to all but confirm Sonic's deductions.
	"You're one of the first people I ever met," Knuckles finally spoke up, "and the only one to give me a challenge—something to strive for. If I ever tried against you and won, I don't think I could forgive myself, and I don't think anyone else could either."
	Sonic fished for some kind of facetious response, but it felt wrong. He had to have been getting sleepy.
	"Forget I said that."
	The pair was silent for the rest of the night; Knuckles sat with disciplined stillness as Sonic slept.
	It took well into the morning for the sun to penetrate the canopy overhead and hit Sonic. Knuckles watched as he returned to normal behind a cloud of purple smoke, breathing a sigh of relief both from seeing his friend return to normal again, and from the massive weight lifted off his lap.
	He gently lifted Sonic's head off his lap to stand up and reapply the gauze that had fallen off his chest during the transformation. He noticed, however, that there were no more wounds. The change he had undergone had healed him completely.
	Another wave of glorious relief washed over Knuckles as he stood up, knowing that Sonic would be more than alright.
	Knuckles felt a sudden gentle caress on his chest from behind, and instinctively flinched to counterattack before realizing who it was and relaxed. He let Sonic pull him in as close as possible while Sonic's hands reached up from under Knuckles' arms to gently rub his chest, feeling the warm, steady breath from his nose splash onto his neck.
	"Good to know your arms are working again," he deadpanned.
	Sonic kept them locked together for a while longer, but it was never uncomfortable. As soon as he had come, he had gone, Knuckles' dreads flapping wildly in the draft he left behind.
	"Wait, you forgot—" but the chaos emerald was gone.