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She pinched the rose stem between plush fingertips. It squished, bruised, but did not clip as she expected.
Metal's face betrayed none of her confusion; it hung, mouth open and eye's squinting as always. These tender carbon fingers dissappointed her as she squeezed them where her metal talons would have clipped the stem instantly, smoothly and perfectly.
Metal tugged at the rose, and the bush bounced around her. She tried to pierce it at another point, and her fingers spurted with runny red liquid. Discomfort of some kind registered, but Metal pulled at the flower all the same, finally pulling it free of its bush, and moved on to the next.
Her unmagnificent, limited ears flattened instinctively as the unwelcome sound of a plane roared overhead. It was familiar and beautiful to hear an engine again, but she braced and growled unintentionally.
From the cottage burst Amy, with her hammer, instantly at Metal's side and ready to defend their home, but the eggjet scanned them and flew by.
"Phew!" Amy cheered; "It's nice they don't detect us anymore!"
Metal turned her blank squishy face to Amy, and Amy deflated a little.
"Yeah, I know, but I'll take the 'good' we can get." She sighed.
"Can I...?" She softly pressed Metal's chin to close her lips, which met not with a clank, but a soft sound like a bubble popping.
Keeping her mouth closed was a new constant task. When she was first placed in the bioengineered body, everything from breathing to looking sent strange signals across her brain that made it impossible to think. She'd had to learn the ins and outs of flesh-maintenance in the hospital, before they could release her into Amy's care. Care felt weak. She hated care. But it was better than hospital, where she was watched, practically imprisoned, a fish in a bowl to be studied.
Metal grunted as Amy took her hand and tutted softly; it was spurting blood and littered with thorns. It twinged and closed as she touched it; any other being would have reacted to the pain, but Metal was a creature of pure discipline and control. Also one unfamiliar with the cause and effect relationship between harm and pain, Amy supposed.
"They don't look as sharp as they are, do they?" She said evenly, looking over the bloody roses; "Can I care for your hand before we carry on?"
Amy held it in her glove, not minding the red staining, and waited for Metal to respond. Metal frowned at her for a long time, face flickering and twinging, until she stretched her neck and nodded.
"Nodding yes?"
She nodded again. Amy lead her inside, smiling wide.
She explained what she was doing as she did it, and showed Metal how she used her claws to pick flowers, letting her practice.
"When they're long, we'll shape them so they're like your old ones, if you'd like?" She stroked over them, leaving them exposed as she wrapped plasters onto Metal's hand. Metal didn't like, but she didn't betray that. She knew rationally the nails, like the hip-cape, and shoes, were the ways she could reconnect with her old body, but right now none of that helped.
Their little kitchen was all woods and cast iron, with an old fashioned fridge and gas hob. Nothing clicked and beeped like she liked. She knew it annoyed Amy too, as she often heard her grumbling at the hob kettle and lack of toaster. But this all was replacable, maybe temporary: Metal's new mobian form would be forever, or worse, might last only one lifetime.
When Metal left the Empire some time ago, it wasn't the noble revelation and repentance of evil Amy told everyone it was. It also wasn't because she learned what love was, or wanted to find her own identity, as others had suggested. She had simply had enough of being cast aside, thrown into battle, then punished for failure when she was never improved upon between such attempts. The madness of the doctor became her own madness, until the fateful day she was left in storage to power down without any way to charge, and no insight into when she would wake up again. Metal would do anything for the Doctor, except die. So she escaped to restore and improve herself, sure the Doctor would come looking for her. That was years ago, and he didn't even seem to notice she was gone for well over four seasons. When he did, he built a new Metal Sonic, one without personal agency and preservation, and when she learned of that, she denounced her creator, and forged her new identity.
Sonic and his friends chased her out of the corners of their lives until they realised she wasn't the Metal they were fighting. Not that she didn't fight them whenever the chance arose, but not for Eggman. She needed to dominate them, antagonise and affirm she was stronger than ever. This too started as a way to prove herself to her father; but then it devolved into a routine she needed just to feel something. Until that was just an excuse to see Amy.
It was to Amy she ran when she first felt something was wrong. Her body stopped responding to her own influence after she updated her maps software. She drifted up towards the Egg carrier if she didn't actively force herself to the ground. She knew only one person who could break her body right and for the right reason, but Amy refused, instead housing her, standing by her and welcoming her into their investigation.
Eggman's second Metal Virus wasn't for the Mobians: it targetted every machine that took information via satellite and GPS, sending trojan packets to deprive Mobians of their way of life. Cities quickly became unusable with the mechanical strike, and the machines, like Metal, became compelled to follow the orders of the doctor. Swiftly, the people denounced their modern technology, and the brightest minds started work to reclaim, or rebuild their systems stronger. But Metal's body was riddled with the disease, and the Miles Prower lab quickly identified she was being targetted.
It was a terrifying time. When she thought back to the loss of control and unbidden thoughts that had plagued her mind, her new Mobian emotions took over, rendering her in a state of panic. When she woke from Sleep, she often did so covered in cold moisture and wailing. Every time, Amy was there, at her door, ready to tell her where she was and what was happening. It shouldn't have helped, but a biological mind didn't always hold rational facts readily available, so she found it did.
Metal was standing still in the middle of the room again. Her eyes squinted, and she finally blinked them, stinging against their dryness. She often forgot she could move when she was thinking, like she forgot she could eat and hear at the same time. Eating, that was what Amy had suggested. She looked at her bandaged hand and Nodded again.
Metal hated eating and drinking. Food provided too many different signals to process, and made her body feel weird, while drinking was an uncoordinated mess. Because she hated it, Amy made her do it often, but in small doses, and always ate with her. The easiest foods were ones with single textures and flavours, so she ate on a segregated plate, and only ever drank water, as it was efficient and minimised other effects. So she picked at the plain food with her fingers and chewed uncomfortably.
Amy was talking again. She was always talking, not always to Metal, but often. Today, she was summarising the Newspaper, and complaining about ink on her fingers, and how she missed her phone. The news was that everybody needed help, but she thought things were sounding better than they had done in some time. There were still people stuck in the husks of the city, waiting for houses they could live without being surrounded by actively antagonistic electronic doors that tried to snap around them, and speakers that blared Eggman Radio. Metal managed to grunt at his name, and Amy repeated that grunt back to her.
"Just right, what a timewaster. That's all this war comes back to, he's throwing his toys out the pram and screwing with us 'cause he can't accept..." She swallowed. Metal tried to emote, but only managed a different scowl, which Amy chose to understand.
"Y'know... they say he's... not looking so good. It's time, like for the rest of us." She wriggled uncomfortably in her chair, and ate some of the fingersandwiches she had, that Metal had a deconstructed version of.
Metal stretched her squishy hand out and nodded, flexing her fingers threateningly.
"I know, it's about damn time. I'm sure he'll give us grief again before that, though. We'll see him again, when you're fighting fit."
Metal grunted again, and resumed picking. She was assured by Sonic and his friends that this body was inspired by the Ultimate Life Form research, and would be excellent when she could pilot it. They had time to make a few alterations before she lost control of her old body completely, and they had to make the switch over. She was still a hedgehog, but not a metal one. She would be fast, but have no engine. She wasn't as blue anymore, and she was beautiful like Amy, but when she put the body on it still didn't feel like home. They tried to keep her old one for her, but the trojan virus took hold, and it became too dangerous. Now it had returned to the Doctor, and she was left a purplish hedgehog with a few lilac stripes, quills that pointed straight, but the rest of her was so terribly soft.
Amy showered her in praises as she recovered from surgery. She told her how new mobians took years to move, talk and eat alone, and for Metal it had only been a few days. Still, she needed Amy, and words didn't fit in her mouth comfortably.
Amy rinsed the ends of the bloody roses and put them in a vase.
"Are you enjoying going outside again, without worrying about being seen?" She smiled brightly, and Metal nodded, although it wasn't all the story. She felt so weak, she hadn't run or fought since the fateful change. But there were new things: she could smell, now, and the feel of soft things in the garden was enticing. She stroked the rose petals in the vase, which instantly started to shed on her.
"That's okay; they're for enjoying, dear!" Amy giggled, pushing the petals to her to play with.
Dear. Amy didn't like that she'd kept her name, but Metal couldn't imagine changing another thing now. Everything about her had been so unceremoniously upturned, this and her red eyes was all she could do to hold on to who she was once. Amy offered her other names sometimes, just gently to try, but they all felt like someone else. In the end, since she lived in Amy's address, and to differentiate her from the Metal Sonic that Eggman had and attacked them with still, she had become Metal Rose. This she thought she liked, although she wasn't metal anymore.
Metal stroked, prodded, crinkled and tore the petals of the rose, and only noticed what she was doing when she put one in her mouth. The body had become confused between the action of eating and the pieces of rose she held. Amy giggled slightly as her face wrinkled at the bitter taste.
"Oops, I do that too, don't worry! They're not that nice like this, but they are edible, so don't worry." She assured, as Metal chewed the petal. It was bitter, not perfumed like they smelled, but she could taste the greenish planty flavour that wasn't too bad now she'd had it before, so she kept chewing, and ate the other petals she'd torn up.
"Ooh, if you like that, there's some sweets you could try, or a tea? Oh, but you didn't like the hot tea, perhaps I can make it cold, would you like to try?" She said excitedly, clearing Metal's picked-at plate. Amy loved food; apparently all Mobians did, and Metal just hadn't understood that yet. She stood with Amy to clear up, as she started looking for this and that to make some kind of treat.
Life was quiet, but not boring with so much to learn. Metal knew she needed to eat to gain mass and become stronger, as well as becoming more adept in this body, before she was ready to face the world. But she still couldn't fathom why Amy wasted so much time trying to help her. Emotions rushed up in her as she looked at the bubbly water she washed a plate in, and felt the silky soap on her bare paws. A pathetic sound escaped her, and Amy cooed like a dove as her shoulders shook.
"Oh, is something hurt? Is there soap in the cut? Can I touch you, darling?" she hummed, hands careful inches from Metal. Metal shivered into her, nodding her head. Her face was hot and became wet as Amy put her arms around her.
"It's okay, you're okay, whatever it is will pass, alright? Tell me when you can."
Metal's breathing was strange, but she tried to be calm about it, and let the eyes weep and the body relax onto Amy. She tried to move her mouth but it just made more sobs, and Amy made more soft reassurance, eventually leading her to a big squashy chair to sit in together until it passed.
As promised, it did pass, and now the strange feelings-swing rocked her into warm and cosy. She was floppy as Amy told her about all the good things in the world she had to look forward to.
"Is good." She managed, slurrily and with her tongue in the wrong place. Amy ruffled her fur excitedly.
"It is good, yeah? Which bit's good?"
Metal swallowed consciously and pointed to her chest.
"Your body is good? Comfy, more strong?"
Metal shook her head, and pointed again.
"You feel good?" Amy offered, and metal nodded making her beam; "That's great! I feel good when I cry, too!"
Metal patted her furry cheeks and Nodded. She had an awful lot to learn about the eccentricities of being a beast. But Beasts, unlike Machines, could be beautiful, soft and pink, and made her heart flutter as they stroked her quills. She would make the most of this.
The body would be fine, it was the feelings that were most strange. Metal had always known feelings distantly, but as a creature they consumed her, scared her, but times like now they could fill her too. Some familiar and old, imported from her old body, and some dangerous and scary new things too. When she finally mastered her jaw, she'd tell Amy that most of them were about her.