Chapter Text
The Party
The room was small. Cozy, really Knuckles thought as he wandered further inside. It was an office of sorts he supposed, though the way it was made up with cushy furniture, and bright decor, suggested it was more a space to relax than for work. Like the rest of the house, the room was made up with thoughtfully placed Christmas decor. A poinsettia at the desk, an extravagantly embellished skinny metallic pink artificial tree, next to a side table that was adorned with an array of other holiday-esque things. He couldn’t really identify the names or purpose of much of it, but it was pretty. A collection of what looked like several fancy paper cards with handwriting inside struck his interest. He gave them a long look, picked one at random, and then made his way across the room to a teal wingback chair that had been calling to him since he’d entered with a promise of exceptional comfort.
It was quieter here, and he breathed a sigh of relief for it. For a moment, his eyes slid shut too. The melody of a charming holiday tune echoed in gently from the livingroom beyond, along with a steady murmur of joyful voices. The voices peaked and ebbed, teeming with the sort of excited energy one expects at a party. Or a holiday soirée—as Amy had endearingly insisted. And who was he to disagree with the name? She’d certainly outdone herself in the preparations.
Knuckles let himself sink deeper into the seat cushions. He loved his friends dearly, but sometimes, when they gathered together all at once it could feel… too much. Especially when he came straight from the island—the contrast could be a bit jarring at first. He was feeling it now, and had wandered off in hope of a moment of quiet. He allowed another long breath, blinked a few times and gave his spines a light shake, then glanced over the card he’d swiped off the table.
It was mostly a deep green, printed on some heavy paper, with an illustration of a quaint winter white village at night. Every patch of snow was covered in some sort of iridescent white sand that made the whole scene sparkle whimsically. Below the scene a phrase in gold text read,
Knuckles read through it twice, and the words stuck with him a while. A peek inside revealed the interior filled end to end in a block of curly cursive handwriting, that Knuckles was embarrassed to realize he could hardly decipher. He closed the card, deciding it wasn’t meant for his eyes anyway.
Every once in a while the voices would carry in a bit louder, and he’d catch a clear note of conversation—exclamations about the boardgame match he’d walked away from, or praise about the delicious assortment of party snacks. He listened in a bit, then let his mind wander as minutes passed.
“Ah, so this is where you disappeared to,” a voice spoke from the doorway some time later. It was Amy. She was leaned casually against the door frame, two steaming mugs in hand. She giggled lightly at him, having caught his startle. “I’d wondered where you’d gone off to after that last round.”
“Hmm? Oh yeah.” Knuckles couldn’t keep a sheepish smile off his face. “I’m no good at those party board games. I strike out first nearly every time.”
“Awe, but that’s okay. You know it’s just a fun way to hang out together right? It doesn’t matter who wins.”
“Sure. I know that —though I’m not sure anyone has explained that to Sonic. He’s out there taking wins like it’s a take no prisoners death match.”
She giggled at that too, and replied, “of course not. Ever the show off, that one.” She came halfway into the room, offered him a hot chocolate, which he accepted, and then veered off to plop down cross legged on a tufted velvet pouf across him. “Sooo, whatcha up to in here? Snooping through all my stuff it looks like.”
“What? Oh. No. I mean. Uh… Sorry. I probably should have asked before coming in. I—“
“—Sweetie, I'm just messing with you.”
“Ah… right. Sorry,” he added sheepishly.
“Seriously though, what’s that you’re looking at? Just out of curiosity.”
“Oh, um…” He held out the card to her. She took it, and gave it a long once-over, taking the time to really view and read what was there, then looked up at him with a hint of something curious he couldn’t quite define. Knuckles decided it best to explain further. “I just came in for a bit of quiet, but uh, I guess I noticed these fancy cards. With the sparkles and the handwriting, they just caught my eye. What are they for?”
“Oh.” She eyed him almost comically.
He recognized the look. He’d become so used to it at this point—the curious surprise others got upon discovering poor Knuckles was unaware of yet another something that was otherwise wholly commonplace. It didn't even bother him anymore.
“Those are Christmas cards,” she answered simply.
“Right… Well, I had gathered at least that they are cards and Christmas related. What do you do with them? You have so many. Is this your handwriting? Are they similar to birthday cards? You must have received many gifts already if that is the case.”
Amy covered her lips to stifle a giggle. “Well yes about the cards, but no to the gifts. People often give cards without gifts. Around this time of year especially, friends send cards like this to wish each other well for the holiday. These were all delivered to me through the post. No gifts involved.”
“Through the post?”
“Oh. I guess you don’t have anything like that to understand what post is. Posting cards is like—“
“—No, no, no, I know what post is. I’m not that uninformed… anymore. I just thought it was used for really important deliveries, like... important notices, or urgent packages, and things you have to pay. Stuff like that. Is that not right?”
“Oh, well… it’s not wrong, but there is more to it. You can post practically anything actually, as long as it’s not dangerous of course. And it’s not just for urgency. It’s actually quite slow most of the time. And yes, important or official correspondence is often delivered through the post. But it’s way more than that. Like… have you never read a story where distant family or friends or couples sent letters to stay in touch? It’s kind of a cliche, in romance novels especially, but it’s also a real thing that people everywhere do. I mean, not so much these days because we all have communicators and email, and what not but… I don’t know, your people didn’t have anything like that at all? With all the writing they did?”
“My people wrote about philosophy, and chaos energy, and our myths and legends. They didn’t need to write letters… or cards. They were… together. The island—their world—it was whole. They weren’t distant from anything.”
Something akin to soft pity creased Amy’s features as he spoke—that same curious expression from before. It made Knuckles pause and retrace his words in search of the reason. Ah. Yes. It did sound rather dreary when he ran it back, reflected upon himself. That past he’d described was so contrary to the life he lived. He, who was the last—left alone.
Knuckles stifled a sigh when Amy handed him back the card. He took it, stood, and placed it back with the rest, then turned back toward Amy, leaning partially against the table’s edge. Their eyes met, and he glanced a wry smile back at her, then cast his eyes down. “That was a different time. I wasn't really thinking about all that when I grabbed the card. It just… caught my eye.”
“Yeah,” Amy whispered. She rose from the pouf, crossed to stand next to him, and brushed a hand along his arm, then linked their fingers. After a long moment passed in silence she tugged gently at his hand, to draw his eyes back up to hers. When he complied, Knuckles found them searching him for something. She hesitated a while before finally voicing a question.
“I've… never quite been able to tell if… well, when I think about you Knuckles, you and your life, living so far away on Angel Island, I don’t think of sadness. I know you love it there, and it’s where you want to be. I do wonder though… sometimes, does it... do you get lonely? It seems like it would to anyone, but… you’re hardly anyone Knuckles, and when we talk about what you’ve been up to up there, it’s never nothing. So… so I just wonder sometimes if you do get lonely,” she ended awkwardly.
She grinned up at him, a soft cautious thing, as though she suddenly wasn’t sure if the question had been a misstep. But before he could respond, both of their attention pulled to the door as a wild roar of cheers rang in from the living room.
Knuckles scoffed amusedly, then asked, “you think someone finally beat Sonic?”
“Gods, I hope so,” Amy groaned a sharp laugh. “Vector had started taking bets when I walked out of the room. And I’m 99% sure Rouge already figured out how to rig that in her favor.
“Good grief,” Knuckles huffed, and dragged a palm down his face. “So much for, it doesn’t matter who wins.”
“Yes. Well... you know how competitive they all get. You too if it’s the right kind of game,” She added, nudging him with a smile.
He pointedly looked away, and took a sip of his hot chocolate, but after a moment's consideration, laughed and added, “actually, you too Amy, if it’s the right kind of game.”
“Hmmmm,” Amy frowned. “Maybe there is something collectively wrong with the lot of us. But, ya know, clearly more with some than with others.
“Clearly,” Knuckles deadpanned with a smile.
She laughed to herself. “Shadow looked about ready to flip the table if he didn’t win the next match.
Knuckles snorted. “That’s not going to end well.”
”Mm… as long as nobody trashes my place in the fall out, I’m going to turn a blind eye. I think they’re still having fun. Plus, I need everyone to stick around to eat party food. I made way too much.”
”Yes you did. Well, if they start breaking things, and you need me to knock someone out, just say the word,” he said with a sly smile. “You put too much work into all the pretty Christmas decorations and party planning for them to start a brawl inside.”
Amy raised an eyebrow at that. “You like my decorations?”
“Sure. Why wouldn’t I? They’re so sparkly and bright. Like one of those little water filled glass balls that make it snow when you shake it.”
Amy beamed at him and giggled softly. “Anyone who calls you the tough one among us is wrong. You’re such a sweetheart.”
Knuckles felt heat rise to his cheeks, and looked away suppressing a grin. Amy leaned in, gave him a quick one armed hug, then crossed back to the pouf, and sat. Knuckles waited a beat, then chose a seat at the desk chair.
He took a moment to sip at his drink, and tried to recall what they had been speaking about before all the cheering. Right. Loneliness. He had an answer to Amy’s question, but once again, before he could reply, she spoke.
“Sonic said you’re not coming back for our Christmas dinner this year?”
It was spoken like a question, though the way she looked at him, made it clear she knew it was true.
“I’m not,” he admitted over a sigh. “I had kind of hoped Sonic would keep that under wraps until after tonight.”
“Not his fault. I forced it out of him. Was trying to pin down some of the planning stuff. You really can’t make it back out?”
“I really can’t Amy. I’ve been putting it off for too long. Like a few years too long.”
Amy frowned disappointedly, but continued, “Sonic didn’t really explain it clearly. What you have to do I mean. Something about the island needing winter time for the plants? I don't really understand. How does that work exactly?”
“I’ll have you know, I explained it to him in great detail.”
“To be fair, he probably did listen. Took me a while to catch on to this, but Sonic is really patient with people, so like listening to your full explanation. Buuut, he’s super flakey about relaying details like that if it’s not life or death.”
“Yeah, I think you’re onto something there. Thank chaos for Tails keeping his head on straight.”
“Truth that. So, let's have it then. The whole thing. What Winter plant situation is in dire need of your attention?”
“Well… the island has…” Knuckles pondered over how he'd explained it before. “The best way I can explain this is to call it something like multi-year life cycles. Angel Island is made up of several different biomes, each diverse and varied. That these biomes can exist together at all, and honestly that the island can exist as it does at all is of course due to the Master Emerald. Even though the island will not stay airborne without the emerald, there is chaos energy deeply steeped throughout the island from thousands of years of exposure.” Knuckles paused. “Um, that’s not the main point. It’s about the plants. We spend a lot of time in the tropical zone which–”
“—We?”
“Uh… ‘we’ as in the island, and it’s plants, and wildlife… and me. Um, anyway, much of the island thrives on those moderate temperatures, because the biomes are temperate. The ones that aren't, like Ice Cap Zone, tend to get by on the higher altitude, colder night temperatures, and some chaos influenced conditions thanks to the Master Emerald. But over time, species that thrive in the cold can still suffer. There are other examples—varying needs among the biomes—the Desert Palace for example, which has a long cycle and requires very little intervention. But in this case, for the species that derive originally from arctic or northern regions, many actually require extended periods of freezing temperatures as part of their growth cycles. Some even need it to bear fruit. Tails mentioned some scientific name for that one when I explained, but I don't recall. Anyway, the period of dormancy allows them to redirect their energy. So in the past, my ancestors developed this multi-year cyclical method of ensuring that each biome is given a period of time in its prime condition to ensure they all continue to thrive. Basically they worked out how long each biome can sustain itself with or without ideal conditions.”
“Ok… that sounds complicated, but I think I sort of understand.” Amy nursed her mug, and pondered a question. “Except… I mean, and forgive me if this is an annoying question, but Winter is just starting. Why can’t you just go later in the season? After Christmas.”
Knuckle swiveled a half circle in the desk chair while he considered how he wanted to answer. It was that sort of question that had seen him trying to keep the whole situation under wraps.
“Well… I was hoping you wouldn’t ask that. I could of course. If it were just about the weather, you could argue it's all the same, what day our journey to the appropriate climate region begins. But for this cycle in particular, and for me I suppose, it’s at least partially about upholding tradition. Without getting into all of the ancient ritual and horticultural minucia, there is a great deal of significance and perhaps strengthened outcome, by starting with the Winter solstice.”
“Is that on the 21st?”
“It is. I know it all sounds kind of arbitrary from an outside perspective—”
“—No, no I think it’s wonderful that you continue those traditions, and obviously if it’s important for you and for your home, of course I understand that it needs to take precedence. It’s just, we’ll miss you. You know?”
Knuckles’ brow creased as he looked down and bit his lip. He really did know. The reason he was off by a few years on this cycle was because of his friends. Because he wanted to be with them too, and well, that one year there had been a fair amount of Eggman induced chaos to see him skipping the rituals. Knuckles sighed heavily, resigned to his decision. He was sure he couldn’t push it back another year, lest he risk extensive damage to some of the arctic species.
He nodded, “I know Amy. I’ll miss you all too.” Knuckles met Amy’s eyes, then refocused his gaze on the decorations and that Christmas card across the room, biting his lip absently. “You asked me before if I get lonely…”
“Oh, you don’t really have to answer that,” Amy said as she waved his words away.
“It’s ok. I didn’t used to. Before all of this—before friends and adventures and… and Christmas parties,” he added with a laugh. “Or, it’s more like… I didn’t know, or… I couldn’t have really understood —no couldn’t have explained what being lonely was, because I was just alone all the time. And I didn’t know why. I was lonely, but I didn’t really feel it the same way, because I didn’t know how to be anything else. That was just my life.” Knuckles squeezed his mug, and chewed his bottom lip a bit harder.
“It’s… different now. I still spend most of my time alone. And I definitely understand now… deeply, what it is to be lonely, but… We’re far apart, yes. But now I can always call someone, and you all come to visit me, and I have all these great memories of the things we’ve done together. And you’re right. I do have a lot that keeps me very busy at home. So… am I lonely sometimes? I can’t say I’m not. But, after where I’ve been, life feels full in ways I’d only barely imagined before while reading stories in crumbling ancient books. Mostly, I guess I just know I’m not alone in the world anymore because I have all of you. And that’s enough.”
“Oh. Knuckles. ” Amy set her drink down, hopped up, and wrapped him in a full, tight hug. “Sweetie. I hope you know you are that important to us too.”
Knuckles squeezed her back.“ Yeah. I think I know that,” he replied softly. He smiled at her lightly as she let go, and heaved a long deep breath. “Ok. Enough of that. Enough of gloomy conversations. You planned this beautiful party, and I want to enjoy it. And enjoy you while you’re here with me so…” Knuckles looked around, searching for anything to spark a lighter subject. About to speak, Amy interrupted once more.
“Hold that thought. I’ll be right back.” She rushed out of the room.
Knuckles used the pause to down the rest of his hot chocolate, and thereafter only had to wait another minute before Amy returned with something carefully tucked behind her back.
“Ok, so, this isn’t wrapped or anything, and well, I hadn't really decided yet who I was going to give it too—I picked it out a while ago—but since you won’t be back, and I suspect it’s going to be very cold where you go, I want you to have this. Merry Christmas Knuckles.”
She untucked a neatly folded bundle, and held it out for him to take. Instead he brushd a curious hand across its surface. At first glance he assumed it was a blanket. The outer layer was a smooth to the touch, light purple fabric, which he thought might be called velvet. He couldn’t quite remember where he’d learned that. The inner fabric layer was a plush white. Almost like wool. Amy raised it a bit higher, and towards him, so he took it. As he held it out, it unfurled itself into a shape he wasn’t expecting. Not a blanket, but something large with sleeves? And a hood? And was that… a giant pocket? The whole thing was cut to a scale that didn’t make sense. He realized he was frowning his confusion, and looked to Amy in search of clarification.
“Is this… uh, what is this?”
Amy snickered, “don’t worry, you’re actually not out of your depth on this one.”
“Out of my depth?”
“Uh, yeah, sorry. It’s just a saying. I mean, it’s not a common style of… well, anything I guess. Sort of meant to be a novelty item. I chose it as an option for our gift exchange since we collectively decided on a silly but useful Secret Santa, but it really just makes sense for you to have it.
“Oh. Ok. But… what is it?”
“Oh. It’s an oversized sweater blanket. Sounds ridiculous, I know, but don’t knock it till ya try it. Go ahead. Try it on!”
“Uh, ok.” Knuckles fumbled with the blanket-sweater thing awkwardly until he found an opening, then slipped it over his head. It took some doing to find his way through, and his quills got stuck a bit trying to fit into the hood, but Amy lent a hand with a few helpful tugs, until everything was situated properly.
“Ok now sit down… no like on the ground… yeah, with your knees crossed… Perfect. Now watch this.” She knelt down next to him, and adjusted the lower edge slightly. “And Voilà! See? Better than just a blanket! You can sit with it, and be completely covered, and still use your hands. Cool right?”
Knuckles couldn’t help but meet her beaming smile with one of his own. “It is cool,” He nodded. “It’s really soft and warm too. Thank you Amy. I mean it. This will be really nice to have.” He frowned, and bit his lip. “I’m sorry I don’t have anything to give you in return.”
“Oh stop. Please. I’m truly just happy that you like it, and that it’ll do you some good.”
“Alright… I’m sure it will.”
“Good. Here, let me help you get it off. Won’t do any good for you to melt into a toasty puddle here inside.”
Even with Amy’s help, Knuckles managed to get stuck at the quills again.
It was of course at that moment—as Amy and Knuckles were playing an awkward sort of tug-o-war—that another voice rang in from the door.
“Oh, oh what… oh chaos. What is going on in here?”
When Knuckles managed to pull the garment up enough that it was just pooled around his head, Knuckles caught sight of Sonic, collapsed against the door frame, gasping in laughter.
“Knux, I don’t think the sweater goes on your head.
“Sonic, you’re not nearly as funny as you think you are,” Amy retorted. “What are you doing here? Lose your game yet?”
“Nope. Last game ended in a tie. We’re taking a ten minute break to collect bets, and then going for broke with a sudden death match. We’ve got about… two minutes left on the clock now, if either of you wants to join in. For the bets I mean. That’s why I came to find you.
“Oh, for chaos…,” Amy groaned, shaking her head in one palm.
“I’ll take that as a no for Ames. Knux? You know I’m a good bet.”
“I have nothing to bet with.”
“Hmm… shiny green rock?”
“Get out Sonic,” Knuckles retorted with practiced feigned annoyance.
Sonic shrugged back lazily, “alright. Suit yourselves. By the way Knux, you look great in purple. Good choice Ames.”
Then with a wink, and in a blink of a moment, he was gone again.
Amy and Knuckles shared a soft laugh, over matching eye rolls. Amy whispered, “ridiculous boy,” under her breath, then asked, “do you wanna…” she emphasized the question with a thumb pointing over her shoulder at the door, “watch?”
“Mm. Nah… We've got some time, it seems, and I’m good sitting this one out.”
Amy smiled thankfully at that. “Same. When they finish I’d like to round everyone up for a picture, but it’s no rush.”
Knuckles nodded, then wandered back to the desk, examining the numerous and varied craft supplies. His eyes fell on a partially written envelope. He picked it up, and then glanced around once more across the room at the sparkly pink tree, next to the table covered in Christmas cards. He took a seat in the chair once more, swiveled it back round to face Amy, and with a curious smile said, “SO. Amy. Tell me more about all this letter posting you’re so fond of…”
(Aug. 2022 Update - I finally got around to drawing this accompanying art that I had floating around in the brain for months for this fic. And thanks to McFaneLy for a good deal of inspiration and cheerleading while I was working on this piece!)