Work Text:
Surge glared at the mud already crusting onto her shoes. She could already feel it threatening to ooze up to her legs, just a few missteps into one of those stupid sinkholes and history could repeat itself… Kicking a couple of lilypads, she took the boggy path step by step. At least the sky was clear. Bright and cheery, like Sonic had dared to act as he suggested this little outing. Something that even calmed him down, he explained. “It’s a nice change of pace from running to and from everything.” He said it quietly, like it was some big secret that would skew how everyone looked at him. Maybe it would. He added, “The company’s just the kind you need when taking a breather.”
Surge had laughed in his face, but anything that got everyone’s beloved blue hero to take a break had to be something. So far the only “something” had been the persistent gurgle and slurp of the soft ground, and the way green muck dotted up to her knees. In place of gnashing her teeth, the tenrec imagined Sonic getting stuck in the muck—bright blue quills dulled as he struggled to free his legs, those tacky shoes too coated in mud to see the usual minimal scuffs and specks of dust…
The next step splashed the mud into her face as she found water. If it weren’t for a memorable prior experience mixing liquid and electricity, she’d be tempted to start zapping the whole annoying swamp until every last piece of vegetation was fried.
It was a wonder how her guide lumbered ahead of her without a care and still managed to gracefully wander around each of the more treacherous spots. Worse yet, he spent a third of the time watching her progress over his shoulder, just blinking those yellow eyes and patiently pausing every few steps. And talking to either himself or that frog of his. When she found her first sinkhole, a massive paw had been offered to pull her out. Surge’s string of curses and threats made her stance clear. But he always waited for her.
When she finally looked up again, she narrowly missed crashing into a wall of purple. Grumbling, she crept out to see what had finally brought them to a true stop.
For a brief moment, they were on the edge of a cliff, and the eye-splitting sky swallowed all of the horizon. A few small hills hovered directly ahead, a miniature Angel Island to the open expanse. When Surge squinted slightly, she could catch bursts of orange and red and turquoise flying through the—water. The lake that reflected back the sky and every scrap of nearby landscape that the sun could reach. It was only broken by the shimmery fish and, when her eyes dropped lower, closer, a tenrec’s bewildered expression.
“We’re here,” Big announced unnecessarily. He dropped his basket with a contented sigh, and had fixed on a new hook and lure before Surge could even blink.
She didn’t know whether to kick him or laugh. Heroes didn’t kick people, and the impulse blinked out of existence as the tenrec approached the wide strip of sand—the only barrier between the suddenly tamer vegetation and the impossible blue. This time the ground held steady and she let herself breathe a little more.
A quick scan told her that despite the beauty of the place, if that was your kind of thing, no one else would be found this far from the nearest town, or road, or even the more commonly traversed forests. They’d have to be pretty stupid to pass through the disaster of a swamp to get there, Surge decided. She suddenly kicked at the shallows, managing to splash not only herself but the frustratingly peaceable cat. He flicked an ear, blinked, and turned his attention back to the rod in his hands.
Whatever. Surge may have begrudgingly borrowed a rod of her own, but she couldn’t begin to puzzle out how to handle the slippery string. Eventually her strange guide would quietly teach her how to assemble the gear, just like he had taught her to fall into fewer mud holes. Just like he had accepted Sonic’s assignment with a thumbs up and cheerful remark about how, “The weather sure is gonna be good for this trip, yup.” Sonic had grinned all the wider as she raised an eyebrow at his aptly named friend.
She could always still find a way to wipe that smug expression off of the hedgehog’s face later. Challenge him to a race or spar, same as his countless friendships that apparently started as a stranger out to maim or kill him.
Except that could wait until later, after Surge got the chance to brag about the view and… and what exactly? Her instincts said whatever she caught, but her brain said that might come to a big, fat nothing. Whatever she did or didn’t accomplish was her business. She risked stepping a little farther into the clear lake, just deep enough to more gently splash off the grime. When yellow flashed from beneath the ripples, she turned to hurl herself down across the beach. Only, dry sand trailing off of solid ground made for as comfortable a landing as the muck had been cleaning.
“Ow,” she stated, but didn’t bother to get up.
“That looked like it hurt,” Big offered. He stayed put, though. Probably still respecting her well-established refusal of help.
Except she certainly hadn’t found this little piece of paradise on her own. She also wouldn’t have been able to work out fishing, she decided while watching her companion begin efficiently untangling her own mess of fishing line. A little help wouldn’t hurt.
Even the sky barely carried a cloud to mar it when she rolled over from her faceplant. The sun filtered through the trees, still enough to warm the sand and her. Occasionally, instead of the rustle of leaves, a small shadow would pass overhead. A short whistle followed. A few pink flickies traveled from branch to branch. Eventually they took off for the lake’s distant island, taking their song with them. Still, something softer than the trills cut across the smooth waters and continued to pull Surge away from sleep.
Humming. Big was quietly carrying a tune as he untwisted the few remaining loops. He met her eyes as she tilted her head backwards to look.
“Do you do anything besides fishing?” She winced slightly at her own tone, but didn’t take back the words. “I mean, even that little rabbit has had her share of fighting and getting into trouble, right? So what’s your deal?” Call it boredom, call it genuine curiosity. Maybe the change of pace thing was already getting to her.
For a moment he appeared to return to his tasks exclusively; he would pick at the line and adjust the rod until the whole mess appeared to unravel itself. Equally quietly, he would maybe offer a simple observation to that frog of his and intently observe the bounty of fish packed into the waters of paradise.
“I do plenty.”
Surge jumped. She pushed herself upright, but the feline’s mouth curled upwards as he replied.
“I know people sometimes think I don’t do much. And that’s alright, I think.” With a flick of his massive wrist, the good-as-new fishing rod sent its lure arcing far across the lake surface. He blinked at her and held out the handle. “I like fishing. I like Froggy, and all of my friends. I like adventures, when everything turns out okay in the end.”
Okay, Surge had to admit that maybe the cat did somehow have a bit in common with Sonic. Only a little, though. She tugged experimentally at the pole, and the bobble at the end bobbed toward the shore.
“What people think of me doesn’t change who I am. I’m Big. I’m stronger than a lot of people think. Smarter, too. Except for things I don’t like or don’t practice very much, an’ that’s okay. I can learn those things too, when I feel ready.”
He paused, clearly eyeing the water surrounding her line. The tenrec’s attention had slid away the moment the cat really began talking. Slowly, Big looked between their fishing rods and adjusted his own so that his thumb caught the reel, adjusting the tension. Surge mimicked the motion.
“Anyway,” Big continued, "it's important to remember that the only one who can decide how you change… is yourself.”
He snapped the pole back, looking expectantly in the tenrec’s direction. This time she copied almost immediately. Then the pole jerked back, dragged toward the water instead of away. Lines crowded the previously continuous swatch of sky to lake, and she gritted her teeth and fought back. Occasionally a gentle word or two reached her ears as she glared at the water. An orange flash taunted, but she heeded the reminder to leave a little slack in the line. Then, once it was taken up again, the pole snapped left and right, a dance between two forces struggling to break a pattern in near invisibility and silence.
“Steady.”
Surge obeyed, then reeled in like never before when the moment felt right. Within moments, her prize was nearly close enough for her to topple in and yank from the water.
Closer, closer…
The line went slack, drifting lightly where the faintest wind could reach it. Surge didn’t bother to reel it the rest of the way in. As much as she hated to lose, she always knew when she had.
“What happened?” she finally asked. Whether it was spoken to the sky, or the ground she trusted below her feet, or Big, or the very act of fishing, she couldn’t decide.
Big the cat took a long, deep breath that sounded too gentle for a sigh. “Uh oh. That happens sometimes. Even with a lot of practice.”
Surge stared at him as he gestured to himself for the last bit, then stared at nothing. Adrenaline told her she should still be chasing, or even running, maybe giving or receiving punches. The missing lure and slack line told her she had lost.
But it was different from a fight. Even without thoroughly bruised knuckles or the visual of a defeated foe limping away, the tightness in her lungs could uncoil. Right. The deep breaths thing.
The only one who can decide how you change…
She shook excess water off of her pole and struggled to untangle the knots that had materialized.
“Y’know big guy, I think you are pretty smart.” She glanced toward the trees so she wouldn’t have to see his surprise turn to that observant gaze again, the one that could catch either the flash of fish scales, or how she flinched too much at the wider puddles of mud and water. “Now what were you saying about being strong and going on adventures? You never exactly answered my question.”
“Oh, sorry.” At least he didn’t look too much like it. Something about the thought of him turning sullen or downcast irritated Surge far more than the weird nonchalance ever could.
“Actually, I have fought before. To help out my friends, of course.” He briefly puffed out his chest. “I’m tougher than I look.”
“Really,” she deadpanned, just to see his indignant huff.
“Yes!” A pause. “Fish don’t usually care about that at all, though, so no point in worrying either way.”
“Huh. But I guess it would make a difference if it was a really large fish, right?”
He nodded eagerly, then described a catch that had been terrifying in size, even to someone like himself. She threw questions and compliments buried in insults, he returned with years worth of wisdom and near misses—both from fishing, and from other adventures. For someone who constantly lost his best friend, Big was apparently an expert at finding things like the Chaos Emeralds.
Moments melted into hours, until eventually the warm colored scales became half invisible under the reddish hues reflected instead of a steady blue. Funny how quickly time spent doing so little had slipped through her fingers. She shrugged and kicked out her legs, letting them trail in what looked like liquid fire as the hills burned with the sunset.
Big shifted as well, though he never lowered the fishing pole as he shuffled along the sand towards her. He flopped down onto the suddenly narrow space.
“Would you like to do this again sometime?” His large ears stood upright, and that dopey smile had spread across his face again.
“Only if you promise one thing. Sonic isn’t gonna hear a word about it.” Surge smiled lightly at the tug of the line and yanked it upwards slightly. “Well, except for the fact that he’ll have to find a new fishing partner.”
“Sounds good to me an’ Froggy,” Big agreed. Without pulling his eyes from the rings of water forming around his line, he placed a huge hand across her shoulders and firmly patted her on the back.
Surge likewise stared carefully at her line
If both of them stayed that way, they could always brush it off as just a bit of camaraderie in their now shared hobby. If the tenrec eventually leaned into an awkward half hug instead of managing to mutter, “thank you,” then no one else was around to care anyway.