Chapter Text
The Post
Tails' Workshop
December 25th
As cleaning stood, washing dishes was high on Sonic’s list of least desirable chores. He’d been at it at least fifteen minutes already, and the end wasn’t yet in sight. Still, it was nothing against the highs of the last day. He was in such great spirits, he’d actually offered to take on the messy kitchen duty. It was coming along, but breakfast for nine people—not to mention some dishes left over from the night before—could really take over a sink.
They’d let the morning run its course slowly. Everyone was allowed to rise at their own pace, procure whatever drinks and nibbles they required to begin their day, and then around 10, Vector, Espio, Amy, and Tails had set to work preparing what really had to be called a feast. They had all gathered round the table once more, to delight in food and friendship. It was festive and cheerful, and no one spared a worry for the knowledge that it might be months before they could all gather again.
It was nearing four in the afternoon now. A late lunch had been yesterday's leftovers—by consensus, more delicious than the day before. Most everyone had departed about an hour ago, save for Amy—godsend that she was—she had insisted on staying, despite his and Tail’s protests, to help bring their house back into a state of order. Tails and he both had absolutely intended to send everyone off, without any worry about the clean up—it had been their party to host after all—but well, Amy was an unshakeable force when she made up her mind. Her home was nearby, so he knew it wasn’t much of an inconvenience for her to stick around, but he’d have to think of some way to thank her anyway.
She and Tails were somewhere along the process of putting the living room back together. Or perhaps they were almost done? He could hear their soft chatter off and on, when the dishes weren’t clinking too much. He hadn’t heard any screech or shuffle of moving furniture in a while. A lot of knick knacks had been moved to the shelves last night. Maybe they were resettling those things. When he caught the chatter once more he thought he’d maybe heard them mention Knuckles.
On a similar note of thanks, that thought fell pressing on his mind. It had been with him all evening, all night, and still now. Everyone had been so moved by the gifts—easily the highlight of their gathering. There had been many mentions among them on how to reciprocate, though none that satisfied his own need to meet the gesture in kind.
He’d been trying since last night, to quell the urge that told him, ‘Just go. Go see him now.’ It wasn’t a bad idea. Though perhaps it stemmed from a feeling of… of wishing he’d done more, done something, when he’d known Knuckles wouldn’t be able to come at Christmas. Should he have offered to stay the duration with Knuckles? No. The Guardian, humble as he was, surely would have refused such a suggestion. So, he could go now. His invitation to visit the island was a standing one. Knuckles would never turn him away. But hesitation told him perhaps it wasn’t the right time. Though, he had no doubt Knuckles would enjoy the company. Sonic feared that visiting now might complicate this excursion for the Guardian. There had been much talk of planning and preparing, as some areas of the island would be difficult to access in the harsh weather conditions. There was a real possibility that visiting now would simply mean more work and a strain on resources for Knuckles. Sonic didn’t want that.
There was something more.
Thought and effort had been put forth there. The unexpected surprise. Gifts chosen with care.
Something from that moment of anticipation and reveal, hung with him even now. Sonic thought maybe it was simply… joy? It was still reverberating through him now, and he wanted to return it in kind.
As Sonic stared through the window into the distance, he remembered what Amy had shared the night before—about Knuckles’ curiosity of Christmas cards, and letters. And with that memory, one wayward thought plagued him. He wondered—had Knuckles given so generously, because he longed to have what he couldn’t receive?
He pondered that for a long time. Could he fix that? No… not fix… could he… meet that wish with equivalent joy?
Sonic sighed. He was spinning circles. It wouldn’t do well to rush, or dwell, if thought and effort were meant to be the goal. He gave his spines a shake and shelved the whole train of thought for another day.
A review of the sink revealed it mostly unchanged. He hadn’t rinsed anything in minutes, the dish water was cold, and his fingers were a shriveled mess. He sighed deeply once more, grabbed the next baking tray, and told himself he’d better finish up. Amy and Tails had mentioned a desire to make sandwiches out of the leftovers, and round out the night with a marathon of Christmas movies. And for that to happen they would need… dishes.
December 26th | 8:10am
As it were, an idea—a REALLY exciting one—struck Sonic, midway through brushing his teeth the next morning. He shot out the door in search of Tails so quickly, he actually missed the top step of the stairs. Which was fine—he just rolled down. He was too excited to care about that usual hedgehog grace.
“TAILS! Tails." He found his brother in the kitchen. "Hey Tails... remember that Chaos Emerald teleporter doohickey you gave up on a while back? What ever happened to that? Did you figure out how to fix it?”
“Um… Good morning, again. Whaaaat’s wrong with you? What’s with the toothbrush?” Tails frowned at him in mild disdain and added, “and the toothpaste. Do you realize you're dripping it all over the kitchen floor?”
At that, Sonic glanced down to his hand, and found said toothbrush there. He hadn’t even realized he’d brought it along.
“It’s nothing. I was brushing. I’ll clean it up. The machine Tails. What happened to it?”
“Uh…I’m pretty sure I just scrapped it.”
“Scrapped!? Why?”
Before answering, Tails crossed to a far drawer, pulled out a dry dish rag, wet it under the faucet, and then tossed it to him. Sonic took the que, and began to wipe up the toothpaste suds he’d scattered about on himself and the floor.
Appearing satisfied, Tails replied. “It just became clear there wouldn’t be a way to resolve the inherent power versus structure issue.”
“But… Chaos Emeralds teleport. Chaos Control. It’s something they do. Why would that not work for a teleport device?”
“It was more of a design concept issue. The emeralds were too powerful and kept overloading and frying the apparatus.”
“Why? You've used them to power tons of other inventions, haven’t you?”
“I’ve done a few.” Tails nodded, then crossed to the fridge and pulled out a jug of orange juice. He filled two glasses, passing one to Sonic, and then picked up a small plate of leftover cookies on his way to their table. He motioned with his tails for Sonic to come along. “My inventions were mostly made with the intention of tracking emeralds or stopping all the crazy ones Eggman makes.”
Sonic placed the rag and his toothbrush on the counter, and followed Tails to the table to sit. He snagged a cookie too. “So you can power your inventions with the emeralds…” He left the question open ended.
“Well yeah, but that device was intended to be portable. It was designed to be a method of independent transport for the emeralds, to an alternate location. Since not everyone knows how to activate Chaos Control, it was supposed to be a way that someone could trigger that activation, to send an emerald to a designated secure location. It would have been something we could use when we split up into teams or split alone, to mitigate that risk that acquiring and possessing an emerald holds. Does that make sense?”
“Ok, yeah, I do kind of remember you explaining that now.”
“Good. So, between its need to be sufficiently programmed, and portable, and durable, I don’t know, it just never came together. Some ideas are just like that— better in theory.”
“So… it was…what? Too small and portable to withstand the power activated during Chaos Control?”
“Something like that. Yeah.”
“Did it… was it supposed to teleport with the emeralds”
“Yeah, it did. That was the whole point. To send it, without a person having to do it.” Tails grabbed his glass, and took a sip. “What's with the 20 Questions this morning? Why are you asking about that failed invention? You… seem like you’re trying to cook up some scheme.”
“Well… I'm just thinking, like... What would happen if you weren't trying to transport an emerald? What if you just wanted to teleport… some stuff?”
“It won’t work like that. You need an emerald to activate Chaos Control, and it just puts out too much power. Unless you’re talking like, a bigger permanently situated machine, which, fine, yeah, I could build that, but that invalidates the whole intention of its existence.”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah, sure, but again, I’m not trying to teleport a Chaos Emerald, I just want to blip some stuff. I just want to move something from here to there. If you used something less volatile to... oh snap! A ring! Would that work? It’s chaos energy. Could you do that? Use that to trigger chaos teleportation on a small… tiny scale?
“I… yeah.” Tails replied slowly, squinting at him suspiciously. “Yeah I could do that. In theory. How tiny exactly are we talking?”
“Well… Tails, what if we could send some letters.”
It took a beat, but the dawn of surprise and bright smile that bloomed across Tails’ face, was all the answer Sonic needed.
“Sonic! You might be a genius.”
“Heh, yeah, let’s not get ahead of ourselves. What would you need to make that happen?”
Tails was clearly already deep in thought. “I… just need a few hours to work it out. And breakfast. I was going to make it but…” He glanced up at Sonic, voicing an unspoken question.
“Yeah, I can pick up breakfast. Waffles ok?”
Tails nodded absently, already lost in thought again. He hopped up to grab a pen out of a drawer, then turned half back to Sonic. “And rings. I’ll need you to go find some rings while you’re out.” He continued searching through the drawer then. He huffed in frustration, dug around a few moments longer, and then asked, “where are all my notepads?”
“Probably in your lab little bro.”
“Hmm.”
Sonic could tell he was quickly losing Tails to zoned out creative process mode.
He smiled. He’d better get a move on picking up breakfast. And rings. Seemed they had some scheming of their own to do.
December 28th | 9:44am
“Ok so, no comms after you leave ok? Or, at least not until we get through the full first round. I want these to be clean, controlled tests. If some part of it doesn't function properly… if you can’t make it work, without my help, then we obviously can't send it to Knuckles. Ok?”
“Understood,” Sonic replied with a wink.
“Alright. Do you have your backpack? I packed everything you should need.”
“I’m good Tails. I’ve got everything. If all goes to plan I’ll be back tomorrow, and well, we’ll be in touch sooner.”
Tails smiled, “sounds good.”
They shared a quick hug. And then Sonic was off.
Seaside Hill
December 28th | 12:53pm
Sonic checked the time again. Not long anymore. He was pretty sure he had everything set up properly and ready to go. He’d read through the instructions Tails had given him twice now. As part of the experiment’s control, Tail had refused to explain any of the operational details outside of what he’d written on an instruction sheet. Sonic compared his device settings to the illustrated diagram. The ring was spinning, the appropriate lights were on, and all he had left to do was to jot down a quick note to drop in the chamber. Just a few minutes wait now until the agreed upon time, then he could test out the real magic.
Tails' Workshop
December 28th | 1:01pm
Seaside Hill
December 28th | 1:12pm
Tails' Workshop
December 28th | 1:45pm
Seaside Hill
December 28th | 2:08pm
—
Tails' Workshop
December 28th | 2:32pm
Seaside Hill
December 28th | 2:58pm
Over Comms
December 29th | 9:40am
~“Yeah, I have three more pick ups, but one won't be able to meet with me until late tomorrow afternoon. I should be back after that. Is that too late? When were you going to bring it up there.”~
~“I don’t know Sonic. I’ve been watching the weather. It’s been wild. Depending on how it keeps up, I may not even be able to land the Tornado. Not any time soon.”~
~“Hmm. You know, you may not need to. I mean… ours was a big surprise, right? Whattaya say we return the favor.~
~“Return the favor, how exactly Sonic?”~
~“You airdrop it.”~
Angel Island
December 31st | 5:18am
It was too early. Too early, and wickedly cold—his arms, wrapped tightly around his middle, did little to shield him, and the sharp wind slapped his quills around wildly. It was too early, wickedly cold, and he’d just watched the tornado disappear into the clouds.
Knuckles was confused, and bewildered, and honestly a little bit crushed as he stood there braced against the wind, watching the spot where the bi-plane had vanished.
Had they even radioed in? No. Surely he’d have heard that.
The plane itself—its general presence—had pulled him out of sleep. Proximity to the propeller sound, thrumming nearly just overhead, had pulled him outside. Surely they wouldn’t try to land in these conditions? That must be why they hadn’t but… what then?
Why come all this way without a word? The island was far, far, out of the way of everything. It couldn’t be an accident. Was something wrong? Or was it something else? Some trick? Eggman? No. He could feel the difference. He’d felt Tails, no doubt. And… maybe Sonic? He wasn’t sure about that. Why had they come so early? Why hadn’t they called? Knuckles nearly turned back to go try the radio himself, but then something caught his eye.
He spotted something moving above. It was obscured by the snowy wind, but… what was that? A parachute? With a… a parcel? Curiosity didn’t completely manage to outweigh the other feelings, but he was suddenly intrigued. It took something short of thirty seconds for the item to descend, once he’d seen it. It had been terribly well aimed, because even despite the icy gusts, when it landed, it lay only a few feet away.
Knuckles waited a few moments, out of caution, but then decided he’d take any risk over this abysmal cold. He gathered up the parachute enough to reveal what was underneath. A wooden crate. Sort of medium sized. Not heavy by any means when he picked it up, but had some substance to it. Whatever was inside must be solid. He allowed one last look towards the spot in the sky where he’d last seen a fleck of red, then made his way back inside to investigate.
When he got inside he set everything down next to his bed roll, and took a moment to wrap himself back up in several layers of blanket before continuing. A glance at the fire pit told him he should probably tend to that first—the fire had gone out in the night— but curiosity had him forestalling that task. A lid on the crate was nailed down. He made quick work of prying it open with one of his spikes. There was… some sort of machine inside? But before taking it he noticed a black envelope attached to the inside of the lid. He pulled it off, opened it, and found a letter inside.
Knuckles breathed a tiny laugh. All the unpleasant things he’d been feeling were quickly fading away. He was still thoroughly bewildered, but whatever this device inside might be, it was inspiring a mounting sense of anticipation.
Carefully he reached in, removed the device, and placed it in front of himself. As promised, a ring also revealed itself to be in the crate, as well as a smaller second envelope with some writing on it.
Knuckles laughed out loud for real this time. He suspected he'd surely need the help.
He inspected the device for a minute. There were several buttons and lights. A semi-transparent door that it appeared would pull down and seemed to enclose some sort of chamber, made up the body of the device. Cautiously, he opened it, and found the space to be empty. An area at the top of the device seemed pretty clearly to be where he was supposed to place the ring, so he retrieved it out of the box. It slotted in as though drawn to the spot, and began to spin gently.
A golden light near the top right lit up, with the rings placement. He supposed that must be a good sign. Knuckles eyed the white envelope once more, then the buttons spread across the device. A green button near the bottom left appeared the most likely choice for power. He decided to hazard a press.
Nothing happened. He waited several seconds, and then several more. As he began to consider the other available button options, the ring suddenly picked up in speed to twice what it had been. A white light flashed within the chamber, and then the device truly started him with a pleasant, “ding!” Once the ring slowed back to a normal spin, Knuckles took the chamber handle and cautiously pulled it open.
He blinked. There was something inside. Multiple somethings even, but most notably, a letter.
He reached in and took it. The paper was something very delicate, not entirely unlike parchment, just lighter and thinner by far. It was dyed a chalky white and blue, patterned like soft clouds in the sky— and in the top corner a little airplane was soaring through. Handwriting in bright blue ink lined the simple page.
Knuckles stared at it a long while before he worked up the courage to actually read what was on the page. He wasn’t sure why hesitation held him, but with a deep breath, he pushed it away, and read.
Knuckles finished the letter, and gulped a deep breath to push away the lump in his throat, because the whole thing—vanishing plane, floating crate, mystery device, materialized letter— it had all suddenly clicked, what this was; what was happening here. He stared through the letter, lost in a thousand thoughts and feelings. He was a little bit lost in awe, and almost afraid to keep exploring, lest he discover he’d misinterpreted.
It took several minutes before he recalled that something else had been in the chamber. He opened the door cautiously, and found a small pouch with a note inside. He pulled the note out, and inspected the items.
It brought a smile to his face, but also renewed his spark of curiosity. He was suddenly, desperately, curious to understand everything about what this device was.
Knuckles retrieved the white help envelope from Tails that he had set aside. He tore it open, and found yet another letter inside.
Knuckles was maybe five lines down the page, when a loud “ding!” nearly sent him jumping. After a moment he realized it was simply the device again—though he hadn’t touched anything. 'Oh,' the yellow light was flashing again. He had just read about that. He peered through the sheer door, and once again could make out the outline of something there. When he opened the door, a stacked high pile of papers actually spilled out towards him. No, not papers, envelopes. He gathered them up, all in a bunch, and flipped through them. They were different sizes, and colors, and different handwriting—all addressed to him.
He didn’t even know where to start. Randomly, he chose one out of the middle of the pile, and began there. He read it end to end twice, and then chose another. The second envelope contained three whole pages of tightly pack handwriting. The next included a small packet of tea for him to try. Envelope by envelope, he took his time, and read his way through. It took nearly a half hour before he reached the last.
The letters were spread all around him, and he stared, taking it all in. His heart felt so full, and there were so many things he wanted to say, no—write—to his wonderful friends. Knuckles beamed, and for once he actually felt like it didn’t matter that there was nobody to share it with. There was. He could share this. Everything he was feeling. Now or later, he could write it down, and send it.
He actually laughed out loud, a joyous happy sound. And when a few stray tears escaped with it, he didn’t wipe them away. His joy was physically spilling over, and he couldn’t imagine anything better than such a feeling.
He’d never, never imagined anything like this. Not even when he’d delivered his gifts. It hadn’t even crossed his mind to get anything in return. But to receive this? This was Post. Real Post—addressed and delivered to him in his distant, secret little corner of the world.
It was just as Amy had described to him all those weeks ago.
Knuckles scanned across the letters and envelopes scattered all around him, until he found the small pouch with the pen Sonic had sent. He looked around the chamber too, and hopped up when he spotted the sheets of parchment he’d left scattered among some other odds and ends in one corner. He placed that near the bed roll, and then finally did take the time to start a new fire.
It was early, and wickedly cold outside, and he couldn’t think of anything he’d rather do today than warm up by the fire, and pen some letters.
