Chapter Text
I don‘t remember when training stopped feeling like fun.
A month ago, I would’ve said this was normal. Running laps until my lungs burned. Punching the air until my arms went numb. Letting sweat drip down my quills while my heart tried to beat its way out of my chest.
Now it just felt… necessary.
I launched myself off the workshop’s wall and landed in a roll, sliding across the ground before springing back up on my feet. The impact sent a dull ache through my legs. Good. It meant I was still here. Still moving.
I pushed harder.
Another sprint. Another jump. Another kick into empty space.
Under a shady tree, Knuckles was lifting a pair of massive dumbbells like they weighed nothing, muscles flexing with every slow, controlled movement. He caught my eye for a second and gave me a short nod before going back to his reps.
Amy was stretching near an apple tree, arms raised above her head, breathing steady and focused. She looked calm. Strong. Like she was trying to keep everything together just by existing.
And Tails…
Tails sat at one of the worktables, surrounded by scattered parts, open screens, and half-assembled devices. His tails swayed faintly as he tried to figure out which part belonged where and to understand what he does with them, tongue peeking out in concentration — or maybe confusion.
He looked so out of place.
That was the worst part.
I slowed to a jog, pretending to cool down while my eyed stayed on him a little too long. He didn’t notice. He was fixated on the parts in front of him.
At least one of us could still lose himself in something.
I wiped my forehead with the back of my glove and took a deep breath.
One month.
That’s how long it had been since Eggman disappeared.
Since Tails’ memories faded away.
No drones.
No announcements.
No giant robot crashing through cities.
Nothing.
People would probably call that a win.
I didn’t.
Eggman doesn’t go quiet. He doesn’t retreat. He doesn’t suddenly decide to take a vacation and reflect on his life choices.
When Eggman goes silent, it means he’s planning something.
Something big.
I forced myself back into motion, launching into another series of strikes. My fists cut through the air with sharp snaps, each movement precise, practiced. My body remembered what to do even when my mind wouldn’t shut up.
Every hit carried the same thought.
Where are you?
I landed, skidding slightly, and steadied myself.
My chest was tight.
I told myself it was just the training.
I slowed to walk and entered the workshop through the big metallic gate, my footsteps softer now. Tails was still hunched over the table, adjusting a small stabilizer ring with careful fingers.
I stopped beside him.
“Hey, lil’ buddy.”
He flinched.
Just a little.
Not much — barely noticeable to anyone else — but I saw it.
“Oh—!” He looked up quickly, ears flicking before he relaxed again. “Sorry. I didn’t hear you coming.”
My chest tightened again.
“Didn’t mean to startle you.” I said, forcing a small smile.
He nodded and gestured toward the mess of parts in front of him. “It’s okay. I just… get focused sometimes.”
I leaned against the edge of the table, crossing my arms. “So. How’s the tech stuff coming along?”
He hesitated.
That was new.
Tails used to answer that question with excitement. With ideas already halfway out of his mouth. With hands moving faster than his thoughts.
Now he looked down at the components, tail tips curling slightly.
“I think… it’s going alright,” he said slowly. “I mean, I understand parts of it. The patterns, the logic. But sometimes it feels like I’m just… following instructions I don’t remember writing.”
He gave a small, uncertain laugh.
“It’s weird. I know this stuff matters. I just don’t always know why.”
I swallowed.
“Yeah,” I said quietly. “I get that.”
But I didn’t.
Not really.
Because this wasn’t just “tech stuff”.
This was him.
This was the thing that used to light him up from the inside. The way his eyes would shine when he figured something out. The way he’d ramble about equations and energy fields like they were the coolest stories in the world.
Now it was just… data.
Skill without memory.
Ability without passion.
My fingers curled into my gloves.
Eggman did this.
That thought hit hard and sharp.
Eggman took that spark from him.
I looked away for a second, staring at the far wall, at nothing. My jaw tightened.
He didn’t just hurt Tails.
He stripped something away from him.
And I let it happen.
“Tails,” I said, turning back to him, keeping my voice light even though my chest felt heavy. “You don’t gotta have it all figured out right now, okay? You’re doing great. Seriously.”
He blinked at me, then smiled softly.
“Thanks, Sonic.”
That smile still worked on me.
It always did.
I reached out without thinking and ruffled the fur between his ears. He stiffened for half a second, then leaned into it just a little.
I pulled my hand back.
“Just take it one step at a time,” I said. “You don’t have to be the genius hero every second of the day.”
He chuckled quietly. “Coming from you, that’s kinda funny.”
I smirked. “Hey. I’m trying.”
But even as I said it, my thoughts were already drifting back to the same place.
One month of silence.
One month of waiting.
Tails suddenly laughed.
Not loud. Just a soft, surprised sound that slipped out of him like it caught even him off guard.
I blinked. “Uh… what?”
He covered his mouth for a second, ears twitching. “Sorry— I just—”
He turned one of the small holo-screens toward me.
“I found these while sorting through the backups.”
The display flickered, then stabilized.
Photos.
My breath caught.
There were we.
Me, Amy, Knuckles, Shadow, Rouge— all crowded together in one messy group shot. Tails sat on my shoulders, grinning like the world belonged to him. Another image showed him mid-flight, goggles crooked, waving at the camera. One of Knuckles pretending not to smile. Amy leaning into me. Even Shadow in the background, arms crossed, trying to look uninterested.
My chest tightened in that quiet way that doesn’t hurt right away.
“Oh…”
Tails watched my reaction closely.
“These are us, right?” He asked softly.
“Yeah,” I said. My voice came out rougher than I meant it to. I cleared my throat. “That’s us.”
He scrolled through a few more.
Different places. Different days. Different versions of all of us.
I felt something warm rise in my chest.
And something heavy settle right beside it.
Nostalgia hit like a wave.
So did grief.
“You guys look really happy.” Tails said.
“We were,”I replied quietly. “Still are. Just… different now.”
He stopped on one photo in particular.
It showed the two of us sitting on a grassy hill, the sky painted in sunset colors behind us. Tails was holding a small tool kit, talking animatedly, while I lay beside him with my hands behind my head, pretending to listen while absolutely listening.
He tilted his head.
“What’s this place?”
I smiled despite myself.
“That’s Windrise Hill,” I said. “We used to go there after missions sometimes. When things got loud. Or complicated.”
“What did we do there?”
I let out a soft chuckle.
“Mostly nothing. You’d ramble about whatever you were building. I’d pretend not to care while totally caring. Sometimes we’d race down the slope. Sometimes we’d just lie there and watch the clouds.”
Tails stared at the image for a long moment.
Then he looked up at me.
“Can you take me there?”
The question caught me completely off guard.
“Wait—really?”
He nodded.
“I know I don’t remember it,” he said carefully. “But… I want to. And I want you to show me. I want you to share that memory with me.”
Something in my chest cracked open.
Not painfully.
Softly.
Like light finding its way through a fracture.
“Yeah,” I said, my voice quieter now. “Yeah, of course. Whenever you want.”
His tails swayed faintly.
“Great.”
I smiled back at him.
Inside, everything felt tangled.
There was grief for what he’d lost.
Fear of what might never come back.
Anger at Eggman, still burning somewhere deep.
But there was also this.
This moment.
Him choosing to move forward with me instead of away from what he couldn’t remember.
The weight in my chest eased just a little.
Maybe memories didn’t always come back the way the left.
Maybe sometimes you rebuild them together.
Footsteps approached behind us.
I didn’t have to turn around to know who it was.
“Hey,” Amy’s voice chimed softly. “How’s it going in here?”
I glanced over my shoulder. She had stepped into the room, wiping her hands on a towel, her eyes already drifting toward the glowing screens.
Tails straightened slightly. “I found some old photos.”
Her ears perked up immediately.
“Oh?” She leaned closer, peering at the display.
The moment she saw them, her expression softened.
“Oh my gosh…” she breathed. “They’re so adorable. These are from Windrise Hill, aren’t they?”
She smiled in that quiet, nostalgic way. The kind that comes from remembering something precious.
“And look at you,” she added, pointing at one where Tails sat on my shoulders. “You were so tiny.”
Tails blinked. “I was?”
Amy laughed softly. “Tiny and fearless.”
I crossed my arms, pretending not to care. “Hey, he still is.”
Her gaze flicked to me, warm.
“Yeah,” she said gently. “He is.”
Outside, something heavy thudded against the ground.
“THAT WAS REP THIRTY-SEVEN,” Knuckles called from beyond the open doorway. “JUST SAYING.”
Amy called back without missing a beat. “Congratulations, muscle brain.”
“I HEARD THAT.”
Tails let out a small giggle.
The sound made something loosen in my chest.
Amy rested her hands on the edge of the table, looking between us.
“So,” she said. “What sparked the memory trip.”
I nodded toward the screen. “Tails asked about Windrise Hill.”
Her eyes brightened.
“Oh… that place.” She smiled softly. “I love that hill.”
Tails looked between us.
“You’ve all been there?”
“Plenty of times,” Amy said. “It’s one of those places that just… feels safe.”
I hesitated for half a second before speaking.
“I told him I’d take him.”
Amy’s smile widened.
“That’s a beautiful idea, Sonic.”
Tails’ tails shifted faintly.
“I want to see it for myself,” he said. “Even if I don’t remember it yet.”
Amy reached out and squeezed his shoulder.
“You don’t have to remember everything right away,” she said. “Sometimes just being there is enough.”
I watched the for a moment.
Tails, holding onto curiosity.
Amy, holding onto hope.
And me, standing between old memories and whatever came next.
Windrise Hill.
That name alone stirred something in me.
Loss. Warmth. Relief.
And a quiet promise I wasn’t sure I was allowed to believe in yet.
But for now we were together. And that felt like a start.
We lingered for a while longer.
Amy told Tails about the little pond near Windrise Hill, where dragonflies liked to hover in the summer. Knuckles, still outside, shouted something about how the breeze up there was perfect for endurance training. Tails listened with wide eyes, soaking in every detail like it mattered more than facts or coordinates.
“It sounds peaceful,” he said quietly.
“It is,” Amy replied. “Green fields, open skies… you can see almost everything from up there.”
I nodded. “On clear days, you can spot half the island.”
Tails’ ears twitched lightly.
He hesitated for a second, then looked up at me.
“Can we go?”
The question caught me off guard.
“…Go?”
“Now,” he said. “Can we go now?”
I blinked.
Right now?
My mind scrambled for a dozen reasons to delay it. For later. For tomorrow. For when I felt more prepared.
But Tails was already watching me with that hopeful, careful look.
“…Yeah,” I said after a moment. “Yeah. Okay let’s go.”
His face lit up instantly.
Amy smiled. “Bring him back in one piece, hero.”
Knuckles called from outside, lifting a dumbbell in salute. “DON’T LET HIM OUTRUN YOU.”
Tails laughed.
I grabbed my gloves, hesitated for half a heartbeat, then headed to the door.
The wind greeted us the moment we stepped outside.
Windrise Hill wasn’t far, but the path felt longer than I remembered.
Or maybe I was just walking slower.
Tails kept close to my side, glancing around with quiet curiosity. Every rock, every tree, every stretch of grass seemed new to him. I tried to match his pace, even when my instincts told me to sprint ahead.
When the hill finally came into view, my chest tightened.
Nothing had changed.
The tall grass still swayed in soft waves. The sky stretched endlessly above us. The air carried that familiar mix of earth and sunlight.
But everything felt… different.
I swallowed.
We climbed the last stretch in silence.
At the top, Tails stopped.
His eyes widened.
“Wow…”
He turned slowly in place, taking everything in.
“So this is Windrise Hill.”
I nodded. “Yeah. This is it.”
We walked a little farther, until the wind wrapped around us properly.
I gestured toward a flat patch of grass.
“We used to sit over there. Had picnics sometimes. You always packed way too much food.”
Tails blinked. “I did?”
I smiled faintly. “You said you needed ‘brain fuel’.”
He laughed softly.
I pointed toward the edge of the hill.
“And down there… that’s where you tested one of your early flight stabilizers. Crashed it straight into a bush.”
His ears twitched. “That sounds… like something I’d do.”
“Yeah,” I said. “It really does.”
We wandered slowly, and kept talking.
About sunsets we’d watched.
About races we’d started and never finished.
About lying in the grass and arguing whether clouds looked more like whales or dragons.
Tails listened like every word mattered.
“I like it here,” he said after a while. “It feels… warm.”
Something in my chest eased.
“I’m glad.”
He hesitated, then looked at me.
“Thank you for bringing me.”
I met his gaze.
“Anytime, little buddy.”
For a moment, it felt almost normal.
Almost.
Then he tilted his head slightly.
“Sonic?”
“Yeah?”
He pointed toward a worn patch of grass behind us.
“Why does it feel like something important happened here?”
My breath caught.
I followed his gaze.
That spot.
My thoughts stuttered.
Here I first noise that weird colored sky.
Here Metal was fighting Knuckles.
The beam.
Chaos energy.
His scream.
No.
I forced a smile.
“Probably just another picnic.”
But my hands had already curled into fists.
The wind shifted.
And with it, that familiar pressure crept back into my chest.
‘You’re lying.’
’You always lie.’
’You brought him here knowing it would hurt.’
I inhaled slowly.
Tails was still looking at the grass, unaware of the storm starting to build behind my eyes.
I told myself to stay calm.
To stay present.
To keep it together.
I thought I had it under control.
But the memories were already stirring.
And the quiet voice in my head was waking up.
The wind picked up suddenly.
Not strong. Just enough to send a ripple through the tall grass, carrying tiny particles of dust into the air. Sunlight caught them, making them shimmer for a brief second.
My chest tightened.
The way the light fractured through the particles.
The way the air hummed faintly.
My pulse jumped.
Not now.
I shifted my weight, forcing myself to breathe.
Tails finally looked back at me.
“Hey, Sonic?”
“Hm?”
He hesitated, tails slowing.
“When you tell these stories…” he said softly. “It sounds like we were really close.”
My throat went dry.
“We were.”
He nodded slowly.
“I wish I could remember it.”
The words landed gently.
But they hit hard.
Something inside me cracked.
I swallowed.
“You will,” I said. “In your own time.”
He studied my face for a moment, then smiled.
“I don’t remember the adventures. Or the places. Or the fights.”
My stomach twisted.
“But,” he continued. “I remember how you make me feel.”
My breath hitched.
He stepped closer.
“Safe.”
My vision blurred.
The wind brushed against my quills.
Safe.
The word echoed.
Safe.
Metal’s beam flashed behind my eyes.
His scream.
His body going limp.
‘You failed.’
My fingers trembled.
Tails didn’t notice.
He was looking out over the hill again.
“I think that matters more than memories.” He said quietly.
My ears rang.
Safe.
‘You couldn’t keep him safe.’
The grass rustled.
Somewhere far below, something metallic clinked against stone.
The sound sliced straight trough me.
Eggman.
The lap.
Warning signals.
My chest constricted.
My breathing shortened.
I stepped back without realizing it.
Tails turned.
“Sonic?”
I pressed a hand against my sternum.
Air.
I needed air.
The sky felt too close.
‘You brought him here knowing it would hurt.’
’You’re pretending everything is okay.’
’You’re lying to him.’
’To yourself.’
My thoughts started overlapping.
Metal.
Chaos.
The module collapsing.
His voice breaking.
Amy shouting.
Shadow grabbing my arm.
I squeezed my eyes shut.
Stop.
Stop.
Stop.
Tails took another step toward me.
“Hey, did I say something wrong?”
His voice was small.
Careful.
That hurt more than anything.
“No,” I said too fast. “No, buddy. It’s not you.”
But my body didn’t believe it.
My hands curled tighter.
My jaw clenched until it ached.
I forced myself to look at him.
He stood there in the sunlight, tails swaying gently, eyes full of trust he didn’t remember earning.
And suddenly every memory came crashing back at once.
Every promise.
Every laugh.
Every time I swore I’d protect him.
Every time I failed.
My knees threatened to give up.
I turned away slightly, dragging in a shaky breath.
Just hold it together.
Just for him.
But the voice was already loud now.
‘You broke him.’
’You don’t deserve this moment.’
’You don’t deserve his smile.’
My shoulders shook once.
Tails reached out.
His fingers brushed my glove.
The contact grounded me for half a second.
“Sonic…?”
I didn’t answer right away.
I couldn’t.
Because part of me was still on Windrise Hill.
And part of me was back in that ruined battlefield.
And the line between past and present was starting to blur.
I pulled my hand back slowly.
The wind brushed past us again, carrying the quiet with it.
Tails was still watching me, concern written all over his face.
I forced a smile that didn’t quite reach my eyes.
“Hey,” I said softly. “We should head back.”
His ears drooped just a little.
“Oh. Already?”
“Yeah,” I replied. “It’s getting late.”
It wasn’t.
But I needed the excuse.
He nodded anyway, trusting me like he always did.
I turned away first.
Didn’t look back at the hill.
Didn’t look back at the memories.
I just started walking.
“Come on,” I said over my shoulder. “Let’s go home.”
And this time, I didn’t wait to see if he followed.