Chapter Text
Do him a favor and go get as much of his stuff as you can.
Margo’s words echoed in Sonic’s mind. A simple request that still felt a little weird to have been asked of him instead of Amy. Amy was in the loop. Had been in the loop for a long time. She knew Manic better than Sonic. Knew where Manic had lived–how he lived, knew who his dad was, knew so many things about the guy that Sonic had been insanely curious about but he’d forced himself to keep the questions to a minimum.
And now he was being given an open door into Manic’s personal life. Manic’s and Ferrell’s of all people. The man Sally and the other Freedom Fighters had been trying, hoping, begging to get a single meeting with so they could attempt to persuade him to their cause. The most notorious and powerful black market member. And apparently above all that he was Manic’s dad. Manic’s dad, who was now gone. Stolen just like Chuck. Just like Amy’s parents. Just like so many other families had been torn apart by the madman on the King’s throne. Leaving this gaping, ugly, horrible hole that Sonic found himself unable to enter. Staring in smothered unease at the broken home, his brother’s broken home, that he’d hoped he’d eventually learn about in a much happier way.
It felt like Sonic was stepping on forbidden ground, into a sacred space. Scraping important things from a broken site should have been quick and easy for him, he’d done it before enough times. But setting his foot over the threshold felt like Sonic was stepping into the scorched ruins of his own childhood home. His own forcefully buried emotions pulled by force out of their buried box as his heart cried out in empathy towards his brother. He shouldn’t snoop; he didn’t want to invade. He’d never wanted to do that to Manic, despite all those burning questions. But now he had to, just a little, to figure out what was important to rescue from the house before someone else came to loot the place.
His steps were uncharacteristically slow as he started in the first room. A broken couch bleeding stuffing around the floor sat in the middle of the space. A sparking, cracked TV mounted to the wall, blankets laying in ruins among the cushions scattered on the floor. Sonic absently noticed that most of the cushions didn’t match the couch frame, and there were way too many to be only for the one couch. Did they like to sit on the floor with them? Build forts? Make big cozy piles to do movie nights?
Sonic pulled his thoughts away by scanning what else was in the room. A pieced together drumset was in the corner of the room. All of the parts were damaged in some way, some to the point of only being recognizable because Sonic knew what to look for. He wouldn’t be able to salvage any of them, but that didn’t stop him from approaching to look. Manic loved to play drums. Nothing got him going like that. Not unless it was Amy, or recently Tails and Sonic. Looking over the janky set, Sonic found he was glad he’d chanced it. The metal drumsticks had fallen to the floor, half wedged under a drum that Sonic had to pull out of the way. They weren’t as expensive or nice as the oak ones Manic used with the band’s drumset, but these were his. Manic’s personal pair that he’d had for a lot longer than the borrowed ones from his brothers.
The faintly warm metal was placed almost reverently in the box Sonic had brought, and he moved on to the next room. He planned to loop around to the back, then to the other side before returning to the former front door.
The next room was a closet, mostly empty other than bare essentials for storage items. A little bit of long lasting food. Some extra blankets. A spare space heater. Toiletries and cleaning supplies.
Nothing worth taking. Nothing that Sonic couldn’t replace.
The next was a bedroom. But it didn’t look to be Manic’s. A larger mattress resting directly on the floor. Well worn and having the indentation of a much larger body than Manic denting the surface. There were blankets strewn around, like the thing had never been made up nicely even once, instead making a nest for a mobian on the larger side. Ferrell’s room then.
Sonic couldn’t bring himself to explore that any further.
Then it was the office that he and Amy had found Manic and Margo in, and Sonic couldn’t find it in himself to step back inside. It was complete ruins at first glance, and he was afraid to see what might be unearthed if he went poking around in there. They could come back to look if Manic asked for something specific later. Right then, Sonic felt it was wrong to disturb what felt more like a grave than a room.
The kitchen was next, and Sonic wasn’t sure if he would find anything in there. But he took a quick glance anyway, just to be certain. A small gas stove and oven combination that didn’t seem to have been used in quite a few years. It was probably not even hooked up. A well used electric travel cooktop was on top of it instead. Some of the cupboards were popped ajar from the commotion, and Sonic only peeked inside them just in case. Spilled food, broken containers, and tipped over jars and cans. Food was useful, but they could get some elsewhere.
A little board magnetized to the fridge caught Sonic’s eye, pulling him towards the back of the room. A chalkboard. Sonic had never seen one in his life, they weren’t even in production anymore. All that was on it was Ferrell’s and Manic’s names, and a bunch of tally marks under each one. Were they keeping score for something? There wasn’t anything to really hint at what- Wait, there was a small series of sticky notes.
That one totally doesn’t count! I was asleep!
It counts.
No it doesn’t! Or else the one from Margo’s counts too!
No it doesn’t.
The handwriting was terrible, and didn’t really clarify much. But Sonic recognized Manic’s semblance of penmanship on two of the notes. It seemed they had some sort of competition going. And that made Sonic snort softly despite himself, pulling away and continuing on.
The bathroom only had a quick glance inside. Anything in there they could get new for Manic as far as Sonic could think. No one really kept anything sentimentally important in the bathroom as far as he knew.
Which meant the last room was Manic’s room.
Sonic hovered in the doorway, the wood creaking as it hung slightly off one hinge. This felt just as intrusive as stepping into Ferrell’s room, if not more since Sonic actually knew Manic personally. But there was definitely a difference despite the seeping similarity of simplicity.
The mattress was smaller, but also directly on the floor. Blankets spilled off it along with pillows that Sonic would’ve replaced about five years ago. But Sonic only noticed that after he saw all the posters in the room. Most of them had his own makeup painted face plastered on them, reminding Sonic that he’d only met Manic because both Manic and Amy were fans of his music. There were tons of fairy lights strung up near the posters, but they seemed to have been there from before the posters were hung because they didn’t quite frame the images nicely. There was a curtain that ran through the middle of the room, though it was shoved out of the way and stuffed behind the dresser so it wouldn’t move.
The blanket on the mattress was thick, but worn with a few holes. Upon closer inspection, Manic had the luxury of two mattresses, one stacked on top of the other. A few of Manic’s clothes were strung around the room; all faded and threadbare in places. Except for a few oddly new socks that Sonic quickly realized were the ones he’d bought his brother a few months ago. Sonic realized suddenly he should probably try to grab as many of Manic’s clothes as he could. But after pulling the dresser drawers open he was seriously considering scrapping the effort and just buying him all new ones. And yet the familiarity of home might help, so he dug around to find a handful of the nicest clothes he could and added them to the box.
The nightstand was next, and Sonic had to pause for a moment of surprise that caught in his throat. There was a set of three stuffed toys on it that caught Sonic’s eye and somewhat confused him at first. A little pink hedgehog, and another green one, and next to them was a navy colored beetle? They were all crocheted, and seemed to be a few years old.
The amused and bewildered expression was snapped from Sonic’s face as he realized what they were. He remembered seeing Amy crocheting little stuffed toys before. And the video that had ruined Manic’s life had featured some sort of beetle Mobian. Ferrell was a beetle.
Amy had crocheted Manic’s family, and he’d kept them on his nightstand.
Sonic delicately scooped the stuffed toys up and tucked them into the pile of clothes. He hadn’t found any photographs yet. Maybe this was all Manic had in regards to family pictures.
The top nightstand drawer had a few old, well worn notebooks that had Manic’s handwriting scrawled on them. Sonic didn’t do more than glance at the covers before dropping them into the box as well. The second drawer seemed to be full of more random things. Odd trinkets and bits and pieces of hardware. It matched the rest of the pieces of hardware and various types of repair tools scattered around the room. They seemed used, but not loved. Just work tools. Tails had enough work tools for Manic to use, this wasn’t worth bringing.
The only thing left was Manic’s old extreme gear board leaning against the wall by the door. The one he’d said he’d pulled from the dumpster and slowly fixed up himself. That still shuddered when he turned too hard to the left. Tails was helping him make a new one from scratch, but Sonic still grabbed the old one, just in case.
Standing at the exit once more, snatching a pair of snow boots that looked Manic’s size and adding them to the minimal pile of belongings, Sonic couldn’t help turning to stare back into the home. There wasn’t much there. The bare minimum, with just a few trinkets and odd bits and bobs. And yet, underneath the wrecked state that had destroyed any sense of comfort, Sonic had seen glimpses of it being a well loved home. Ferrell’s bed still had green fur stuck to the blankets and pillow. And two space heaters had been there, one on either side, hinting that it was where they both had settled down for the colder nights of the approaching winter. The little game they had been playing was evident from the chalkboard on the fridge. The food Sonic knew Manic loved scattered together with plenty of other snacks in the kitchen. A second stool next to the drumset with a pair of headphones on the floor next to it. Snapshots of an entire life lived here, Manic and his dad.
The heavy, heartbroken agony that still permeated the walls like the sludge that had poured from Manic’s bleeding heart, broken by Robotnik’s far reaching robotic hands.
Sonic now knew several things that the world had spent years guessing. Who was Ferrell? What did he look like? What was he? Did he even exist? Questions that had been answered as Ferrell had been forcefully dragged from his home and dramatically murdered as a spectacle for the world to see. An example of what happened to people who crossed a line.
But that knowledge now fell empty from Sonic’s mind as another fact pulsed at the front of his thoughts. A secret that as far as he knew very few people were privy to.
Did the King of the underworld care about anyone? Yes. Ferrell was Manic’s dad.
The crime lord himself had raised a cheeky, charming, sweet kid that was only a little morally skewed compared to the rest of the people in the environment he’d grown up in.
“...Wish we could have met in person at least once,” Sonic found himself whispering into the still air. “I’ll keep him safe now. Promise.”
Giving the fading home one last glance over, Sonic tucked the meager possessions close to his chest and raced back across the city to return to his baby brother.
-x-
The time that passed after the incident was wild, broken, and scattered. Manic remained unconscious until long after Tails arrived with the RV and they left the city. Margo had hesitantly reassured them that he was probably fine, just understandably exhausted after whatever that weird power outburst had been. So they’d proceeded with packing up what belongings Sonic had scavenged for him, along with Amy’s haul from her home, and headed for the Resistance camp. It was the only place they knew was fully safe from Robotnik’s prying eyes, and they wanted Manic and Amy to feel as safe as possible after everything that had just happened. They’d need time, and Sonic and Tails could make that happen. So they tucked Manic into Sonic’s bed, tried to make him comfortable, and parked the RV in their usual spot in the Chao Garden near camp. Sonic didn’t let Sally, or anyone else, know that they had additional people with them. They didn’t need the attention, and Sally was used to Sonic being weird about having people around his RV. Everyone in camp was used to it, honestly.
It wasn’t until the next day that Manic stirred. The place that greeted him when he pried his crusty eyes open was just unfamiliar enough that he didn’t immediately recognize where he was. The vague haze of memories of anything that may have happened to lead up to this point didn't help either, and he found himself wheezing a faint, mildly panicked, question of “...where?”
“With me.”
Sonic's voice reached his ears along with the sound of people moving closer. He and Amy had stayed near the bunk, hovering so that at least one of them would be there when Manic finally woke up.
“With us,” Amy clarified immediately after, her hands resting on Manic’s to give him physical reassurance on top of the vocal one. “You're safe, Manic.”
They didn't ask how he was doing. He didn't ask why he was there. He knew why. Amy looked like he felt; eyes red from tears and heart heavy in her chest. Manic's voice failed to make sound as his mouth tried to form the word he wasn't allowed to say while others were there. He could still taste the ash from the blaster burned wood. Still smell the blood, and hear the static from a foreign, unwelcome TV.
Amy freed him of at least one chain. “He knows everything,” she said, nodding towards Sonic. “Margo told him.”
It was enough to release the vice on Manic's throat, and tip the pools of tears in his eyes into spilling. “Dad…” Manic broke, reaching out to Amy as she immediately pulled him close. Smothering him in her arms to hold him together while he shattered apart with screams and sobs. Sonic stayed too. Draping over Manic's legs and offering what comfort he could despite having almost no previous exposure or resistance to Manic's powers or outburst.
Despite everything, he stayed, and he didn’t complain when Manic’s anguish poured over him and dragged him down to Manic’s level. They cried Manic’s tears together, until Manic finally ran out of tears and energy.
-x-
Camp was a lot quieter than Manic had expected. The past few days had been a blur, a haze with the urge to cry grasping at every corner and crack that Manic allowed. He’d woken up tucked into Sonic’s bunk, held by Amy, somewhere far from the city.
He’d let himself cry, then. He’d let himself cry and clung to Amy and screamed himself hoarse. After that he’d promised he’d handle himself better and try not to bring everyone to tears all the time, and while he wasn’t doing… great? He was at least keeping the second part of the promise.
Instead, he mostly slept. He hadn’t gone outside since he’d arrived. He laid in the bunk that Sonic had set him in and let himself rot, a bit, only getting up to use the bathroom before returning to curl up in the nest of blankets. Falling back into what he knew, that he’d been taught when things were bad. When he wasn’t safe, when something was wrong, he was supposed to find a safe place and hide. Hide until everything was better and he could return home, or until Ferrell or someone else they trusted had come to get him. But Ferrell wasn’t coming to get him anymore. And he didn’t want to think about that. If he thought too hard, he’d spiral back into the place he’d started when he first got here, so he didn’t think. He tried not to bother his new roommates as they moved around him, gently trying to nudge him into emerging from the bedroom. His body forced his hand when the completely expected intense migraine came crashing down on his skull like a thousand pound boulder.
Blessedly, it was morning, which meant his last, meager meal had been last night and his stomach wasn’t too full. Hopefully that would keep him from barfing everywhere, as long as he got a hand getting on top of this quickly. “Amy,” he croaked from Sonic’s bunk.
Everyone had already moved into the main room, clattering about the RV quietly. He couldn’t really tell who was left in the RV other than Amy– she was easy enough to keep an emotional tag on by now but with his head pounding he wasn’t about to try and figure out if Tails or Sonic was the second ping running around. He was certain Amy was out there, so she was gonna have to be the one he bothered. “Amy,” he managed to call a little louder.
She was moving now, at least. The curtain that divided the beds from the main room were pulled aside and Amy peered in. “Manic, did you call me?”
“Mmmhm,” he whined faintly, rolling over so that he could look at her with bleary eyes. “M’head… s’bad, can you… get Margo?” She’d know where his meds were. If Sonic even brought them. He wouldn’t have known to bring them. He’d shown Manic that he’d brought a box of his stuff from home, a box that Manic hadn’t been able to bring himself to open yet.
Speaking of the devil, Sonic was leaning into the room as well now. Amy had moved to the bedside, laying a hand gently against Manic’s forehead. “What’s going on?” Sonic asked, stepping up to the bedside as well. “He okay?”
Manic groaned softly at the noise, his ears pinning further against his skull. Sonic wasn’t exactly loud, but he certainly wasn’t being quiet. Amy shushed him immediately as well. “Manic’s got a migraine,” Amy whispered urgently. “Go find Margo, she’ll know what he needs to take.”
As she spoke she pressed her hands on either side of Manic’s head and gave it a gentle squeeze, relieving some of the pressure. Manic let out a soft, grateful noise, thrilled that she’d learned that trick. Meanwhile, Sonic’s concern pressed in around Manic like an uncomfortable weight, but he nodded and stepped away. “Be right back,” he said under his breath.
Amy hummed an acknowledgement, focusing on trying to help Manic how she could. Manic let himself drift as best he could, with the ice pick pain between and behind his eyes. Amy stroked his fringe back, rubbed his ears and occasionally squished his skull. Time must have passed because from what Manic had gathered, Sonic didn’t do super speed in camp, and the door of the RV was swinging open again.
Someone came inside again– another familiar ping on Manic’s radar. Margo, followed by Sonic. “Back here?” Margo asked, her voice drifting closer. Sonic confirmed it and the curtain was pulled back again. Margo made a tiny noise of pity as she came over to Amy and Manic. “Aw greenie,” she said softly, reaching out and stringing her claws through his bangs. “Bad?”
Manic let out a pitiful moan, willing to be most honest about how bad it was with Margo. “Tranquilize me,” he replied through his gritted teeth.
Margo gave him a gentle pat before stepping away again. Manic didn’t really want to focus on anything, but he couldn’t really miss Margo talking from where she was standing. “I need you to go back to his house,” she told Sonic in a hushed voice. “There’s meds for him in Ferrell's room. I think they keep them in the bedstand drawer. You ever seen an epi-pen?”
“Yeah…?”
“Kinda like that. Get them all, I don’t know when I’ll be able to make more,” Margo ordered. Sonic must have gone to ask something because she tutted at him. “Nuh-uh. Get the stuff first then we can talk.”
Sonic made a noise of agreement, and then he must have left because Margo was back. Manic might have blacked out for a moment, honestly, because he didn’t remember her going to the kitchen. But she had a rag now, soaked with cool water, and she was pressing it to his forehead. “Take a breath, Manic,” she said patiently. “Holding your breath doesn’t help, we know this.”
We did know this. Manic forced himself to try and breathe normally, pulling a long breath through his nose and letting it out of his mouth. Tried to focus on the cool pressure against his forehead, on Amy’s hands in his quills, on anything. “He’ll be back quick,” Amy assured him. “Just try and relax.”
“And don’t puke on us,” Margo added helpfully.
Manic had to snort a little at that. “Won’t,” he mumbled. Margo hummed her approval.
Some indeterminate amount of time later, Sonic was back and offering a cardboard box to Margo. “This is it, right?” he asked, keeping his voice low.
Margo peered into the box. “Yeah,” she said, a touch of relief in her voice. “Glad they were still there… Alright, here we go.” The pens clinked around a bit as Margo dug one out and came back to Manic. “So, if I’m not here and he needs one, you’re gonna treat it like an epi-pen. Leg injection, his arms are too skinny.”
“Hey,” Manic protested weakly as Margo showed Sonic and Amy where best to stab him.
“Just set it here, and make sure it’s the right way down, and then click this button on the top,” Margo went on, ignoring him. That was all the warning Manic got before he felt it jab him. He was used to that, so he didn’t flinch too hard. “And that’s it. We usually give it a little massage, it hurts pretty good.”
Margo was already setting the pen aside and rubbing her thumb over the spot she’d injected, smoothing out the ache. “What’s in it?” Sonic asked as Manic felt his body start to relax a bit. Slowly turning to jelly was a sensation he was familiar with at least.
Margo sighed quietly. “It’s a migraine cocktail, but it’s my mix of the medications I’ve figured out work best for him, when he gets like this,” she said. “We’ve nailed it down over the last eight years. But what he really needs now is to sleep. Huh, bud?”
Manic sighed, nuzzling sleepily into Amy’s side. “Dad’s right ‘bout you… no beds’de manner…”
Margo barked a laugh, trying to keep it quiet. “Yeah, that’s right,” she said, ruffling his fur one more time. “You got him, Pinkie?”
Amy’s arms draped around him, pulling him closer as his body started to give up on being awake. “I got him,” she confirmed, combing her fingers through his quills again. “I got him…”
Sonic watched as Manic's body fully relaxed against Amy, the pained tension bleeding out of him. He reached over one more time to smooth the bristles out of Manic's quills before stepping away to follow Margo into the main room.
She was piling the medication pens into a gallon bag on the counter, counting them as she went. Sonic walked up next to her and waited for her to finish. “What is that about?” Sonic began pointedly. “Tails gets migraines sometimes but not… like that…”
Margo slid the bag closed and let out a long breath. “Yeah, it’s… the best word I can use to define what he's got,” she admitted. “But you're right. He's had these… episodes since his powers came in. Took us ages to figure out what was causing it.”
Sonic hummed softly, taking the bag when Margo passed it to him. “You mentioned that, before…” he said, pulling the medicine basket down from the cabinet over the sink and setting Manics medicine inside. “You didn't elaborate much.”
“I’ve been calling it a chronic illness for eight years now, since it acts like one,” Margo told him as she leaned against the counter. “He gets mild migraines every three or four weeks. We can treat those with normal migraine medication. And then more severe ones like this every couple months or in conjunction with fights or high emotional stress. I think it's his powers, but I don't know why they would make him so sick…”
Sonic stared at the contents of the medicine basket– at all his various painkillers and stabilizing tape for his own chronic issues. He just shook his head a little bitterly. “Our bodies weren't built for this, I guess,” he suggested, taking the basket and setting it back in its place. “Maybe Chaos couldn't be bothered to take that into account.”
-x-
Manic slept off the migraine the same way he did every other. Though it kind of sucked waking up, expecting to be all tucked into Ferrell’s bed and finding himself in the bunk bed instead. Sonic was close, sitting on the floor in dimmed light, tapping quietly away at his computer. Which was nice, but it also wasn’t.
It only took a few minutes for Sonic to notice he was awake. Glancing over in a way that betrayed he’d been doing that often, and immediately starting to move when he saw Manic’s eyes were open, even if it was just little slits. “Hey. How are you feeling? Any better?” Sonic kept his voice low, just in case, and quickly snapped the laptop closed and set it aside as he turned to face Manic more.
Manic certainly didn’t feel good. Not only was he always some sort of hung over after those big migraines and the medication, he also had that constant ache in his heart just waiting to smother him under. But he nodded anyway. Sonic had only asked if he was feeling better, not good. “Migraine’s gone,” he mumbled, shifting but not quite motivated enough to try sitting up.
“That’s better,” Sonic confirmed with a smile, leaning his arms against the edge of the bed and resting his chin on them.
The smile faded a little when he noticed Manic still looking rather miserable, not missing how his brother’s eyes trailed around the space he was in with some form of disappointment. He looked a bit skittish, which was understandable. Unfamiliar places were uncomfortable for people like Manic, Sonic had seen the reaction in plenty of people who had recently and permanently lost their homes. Being displaced and sick on top of it must’ve been horrid. Something familiar was always handy in these situations, so Sonic reached into the box next to the bed and pulled out the crochet beetle plush he’d picked up from Manic’s room.
Manic’s expression flew through a mix of surprise and confusion as Sonic handed him the plush. Wondering at first if Sonic just somehow had a plush toy that looked like the one Amy had made Manic years ago. But after taking it in his hands, feeling the same worn fibers and smelling the nostalgic scent that had soaked into it, he knew it was his.
It helped.
Just a little.
It also made his eyes sting, and he stubbornly blinked them as he tucked the toy in his arms and between his cheek and pillow.
“I used to have an owl toy,” Sonic offered up. Attempting to open up and show he could relate to Manic. It could help. “Used to sleep with it every night before-....” Okay, maybe that was too close to his do-not-unpack box. “Um… same thing… happened. You up for a snack? You slept the whole day. Margo said that was normal, but you haven’t eaten since yesterday…”
He couldn’t keep that conversation going, so quickly detoured into the next concern. Distracting himself and hopefully Manic from thinking too hard on that forbidden topic. Manic watched him in strange understanding for a moment before giving a reluctant sigh. Yeah, he knew the routine. Get sick, take a nap, then groggily try to eat and drink something to compensate for the missed day. “Yeah. Maybe just something small…” Manic agreed, even though he never really wanted to eat when he was like this. Food for the sake of nourishment, and not making people worry.
“Okay. Sit tight, I’ll get you something good,” Sonic beamed, giving Manic a light pat before disappearing.
He was back fast enough for Manic to flinch in mild startle, settling back down on the floor and holding a small bowl of something that smelled sweet, a packaged cheese stick, and a bottle of sports drink. The cheese stick was already peeled open and held out. “Eat this first,” Sonic directed. And once Manic obediently and hazily complied, the sports drink being added part way through for him to sip, Sonic held the bowl out for him with a spoon.
It wasn’t anything familiar. Some sort of fruit, it kind of looked like pears, but bigger pieces and in a milky white liquid. Manic wasn’t one to complain about food given to him though, so took the bowl and spoon with a soft thanks and scooped the first piece into his mouth. It was amazing. It caught Manic off guard to the point he froze, staring at the bowl in mild awe for half a second before remembering to chew.
“What is this?” Manic asked around the cheekful of fruit.
“Pears with cream,” Sonic grinned, looking deeply pleased with himself.
“Nah,” Manic protested in disbelief. “They don’t taste anything like pears.”
Sonic just snickered, still smiling like a fool. “That’s because these are fresh from ripening on the trees out in the wild nearby. Not processed through an artificial planthouse.”
“...And the cream?” Manic asked, also not sure it was what Sonic said it was.
“Also somewhat fresh. We got it yesterday. There’s just a touch of sugar in it too, for the sweetness,” Sonic confirmed, basking in having been able to distract his brother from his misery with something tasty.
“...’S pretty good,” Manic acknowledged faintly, stuffing another spoonful in his mouth. He wasn’t sure how much he believed Sonic’s claim that the wild trees were anywhere nearby considering Sonic could run across the entire continent in minutes. But he wasn’t going to complain. The food was simple, but still one of the best things he’d tasted in his life. Giving him a little bubble of joy while he stayed hiding in the bunk bed he felt like he was stealing from his brother.
That joy faded into another low dip within hours. Everyone took turns making sure he was eating. But when Amy slipped back behind the curtain with a plate of crackers and little slices of cheese later on the next day, hoping that’d be light enough, she found Manic exactly where she’d left him. Staring hollowly at the top of Sonic’s bunk with his fingers curled in the sheets. When he noticed Amy, he swallowed. “Is this it?” he asked faintly.
Amy paused, setting the little plate on the side of the bed. “Is this what?”
“The Tower,” Manic clarified, blinking slowly. “Is this the Tower?”
Amy’s heart clenched as she leaned forward to gather him into a hug. He slowly curled into it, taking another shuddered breath. “I don’t know,” Amy admitted honestly. “I don’t know, Manic…”
“This has gotta be it, right?” Manic pressed, a little more desperately. “Amy, it can't get worse than this, right?”
Amy held him tighter, not sure what she could say. She didn't want to check, not now. “I don't know,” she whispered again, carding her hands through his quills. His breath hitched and he pressed his face into her shoulder to hide what she didn't need to be told. The poor thing was crying again. “It… it's gonna be okay. Tower or no Tower…”
That she could be sure of. She'd make sure of it herself.
Manic’s family let him get away with laying around for another four days. Amy or Sonic or even Tails came by every few hours to hold him, or bring him food that he knew he had to eat or face Amy’s wrath. One of the nights Amy found Manic crying again, but trying to be quiet about it since he’d already promised them he’d do better. It only prompted her to set the bowl of food aside in favor of hurrying to his side to gather him up again.
“Hey, hey, no. You don’t need to hide, you should have called me,” Amy shushed quietly when Manic tried to hide in the pillow after realizing she’d spotted him.
“S’sorry-” Manic sobbed softly, feeling like such a burden to them and wanting to just disappear if it was so impossible for him to just fix himself. Or at least make himself and his feelings small enough that he didn’t drag everyone down with him.
“No. Stop that,” Amy chided gently, changing her tactic of pulling him into her lap in favor of just crawling yet again into the bed next to him. Pulling him close and wrapping her arms and legs around him while he gave in and clung back. “I’m here. I got you,” she reminded, letting him cry quietly for a bit more, and just absently humming softly to try and help. It reminded her of when they were kids. Only this time the roles were reversed, and the pain felt familiar to her instead of crippling.
“...Y’you don’t have to stay…” Manic mumbled brokenly after a bit, his arms tightening slightly around her betraying he wasn’t really committed to that comment.
“No. But I want to,” Amy assured, giving him a squeeze back. “You were there for me. I want to be there for you.” She felt a small slip in Manic’s barrier at that. A tiny strain of sheepish happiness amidst the anguish. It ended up making her remember something else. Manic always had to focus on keeping his own emotions under control more when people were around than when he was alone. Her brow pinched and she looked down at him. “...Is it easier if I’m gone?”
“...Yes….. No….” Manic faltered, the small hints getting muddled as he considered. “...Easier…. to let go, but… I don’t wanna be alone.”
“You can let go with me,” Amy assured confidently, pressing her cheek against his head. “I can handle it.”
“But-”
“I can handle it,” she interrupted, squeezing him more for a moment. “I did before. And you stayed with me.”
Manic fell quiet for a stretch after that. Thinking, and remembering what happened only about four years ago. He briefly gained a bittersweet smile, but relaxed more into Amy’s hold and took her up on her word that he didn’t need to hold back as much with her. He let go, just enough that the emotions didn’t feel suffocating.
“...Feels a bit different now,” he admitted, drawing a shuddering breath and sinking more into Amy’s hold. He could be safe with her. Rely on her. “Back then… if it was too much, and I needed a break… I could just block it out but still be there….. B’but now I can’t…. Because it’s mine…”
“...Yeah,” Amy hummed, not sure what else to say.
She didn’t need to say anything more though. She understood. And Manic knew she did.
On the fifth day of rotting in Sonic’s bunk, Amy barged in and slung Manic over her shoulder before he could even ask what was happening.
“You’re going outside,” Amy informed him.
Manic squawked a noise of protest, the concept of being removed from his space of hiding bringing a strain of fear with it. “Wh– Why?! Amy–”
“Because you need it,” Amy replied, heading for the door without stopping for Manic to get his shoes. “Fresh air, sunlight, the sky? Remember those things? They’re good for you? It’s been long enough.” Manic hadn’t left the RV since waking up there. He had no idea what to expect when Amy shoved the door open and stepped out, but a grove of trees hadn’t been on his list.
Sunlight filtered through the leaves, dappling the greenest (and only) grass that Manic had ever seen, despite the slight chill in the air. A tiny stream with little trickling waterfalls was tucked into the landscape. The RV just sitting there almost felt like it was intrusive, like it didn’t belong there. It was probably the prettiest place Manic had ever been, and even with his heavy heart he had to stop and blink at it in awe for a moment.
Sonic looked up from where he was sitting on the grass with a guitar, his eyes going wide. “Oh– You actually got him,” he said, sounding mildly surprised. Where Sonic was sitting, a couple of chao were clustered in, watching Sonic and now Manic with wide eyes.
Manic stared openly at them. “Are those– Those are chao,” he said belatedly as Amy set him down like he weighed about as much as a couple of grapes. Sonic eyed her meaningfully, looking rather impressed that she’d just hauled him out like that. It was old news to Manic, wholly focused on the little blue creatures crouching in the grass. “Those are… actual chao. I didn’t think we had any left.”
The chao watched Manic as he shifted into a sitting position next to Sonic, too distracted by the chao to really pay attention to the new thing that was grass. Sonic reached out and gave one of them a pat on the head. “They’re not able to live near the city anymore, that’s for sure,” he said as the chao seemed to glow under the attention. “But this garden is near camp, and they don’t mind us being here as long as we don’t mess up their home. And I like my space.”
Manic must have settled enough, because once he stilled the pair of chao started tip-toeing their way over into his space, radiating pure innocence and curiosity. It felt different than on other mobians or humans, but it was definitely more complicated than animals’ feelings. The kindness in it almost felt like a bandaid on Manic’s grieving mind and heart.
Amy sat down decisively in front of the boys, crossing her legs and smoothing out her skirt. “They also love Sonic,” she added, watching as the chao moved in on Manic’s personal space.
Sonic waved his hand around before settling back on his guitar. “Dunno, they seem like they like people,” he dismissed. “They love Cream.”
“Cream’s put in the time to make them love her,” Amy pointed out. “They just flock to you. It’s cute, but it’s weird.”
As if to prove Amy’s point, the braver of the two chao crawled its way into Manic’s lap. It stared up at him with big, round eyes, tilting its head as it took him in. It almost seemed, felt, concerned for him. Manic stared back at it as it plopped itself into a sitting position and nuzzled into his chest. It surprised him so much, it dragged a tiny laugh out of Manic. “What is– what’s it doing?”
Sonic laughed more fully, leaning forward on his guitar to watch. “It wants you to pet it,” he told Manic. He’d forgotten, but Manic had grown up in the city. He’d never left. He’d never seen animals, chao, heck, maybe not even grass. This was all new for his brother, and witnessing it felt special.
So it was just a little heart clenching to watch Manic delicately move his hands up to pet the chao, his expression morphing into something less distant than it had been in days. Wonder, even a little bit of joy, creeping across his brother's face.
The chao made a delighted babble and cuddled in more, and upon seeing that it was safe, the second chao started to pull itself up on Manic’s leg. Manic laughed a little more, mildly panicked sounding, as the second chao butted in on the pets, demanding attention for itself. The first one made an offended sound and flailed its arms at the second, as if it was trying to shoo the intruder away. Manic laughed weakly, gently separating them.
Amy just shook her head fondly. “See? Weird, but adorable,” she said confidently.
Manic smiled incredulously at her, and just a hint of his normal demeanor reappeared. “You’re just jealous,” he said, setting a hand on each chao. “It’s reasonable. These guys are pretty cute and fuzzy.”
Sonic snickered, reaching over to scratch one of the chao’s heads as well. “There’s a ton of the lil dudes around here,” he said. “These two just hatched a few weeks ago. You’ll have to wait around to see the more grown ones, they get really colorful. There's even one that looks kinda like me.”
Manic raised an eyebrow in disbelief. “Like you?”
Amy sighed and Manic had to stop himself from rolling her eyes at the wave of fluttery feelings coming off her. “Yeah, it's precious,” she confirmed. “If you hang out with them long enough, they start to take on your qualities. It’s got his colors and everything, it’s sooo…” She trailed off when she realized both boys were looking at her more intently now. Manic’s expression deeply knowing, Sonic’s mildly flustered and bewildered. Her face colored red and she flung her hands out frantically. “I mean– It’s cool! Maybe if you hang out long enough one will look like you and–”
Manic laughed out loud at that. “Here, we can get one that looks like you too!” he said, gently picking up one of the chao and holding it out. It seemed to be alright with it, even if it eyed Amy a bit more suspiciously. “See? New best friend, right here.”
The chao allowed itself to be handed off to Amy, who took it like it was made of glass. She set it down on her lap, moving her hands away so it could escape if it wanted to, but it just busied itself with playing with the lace trimming her skirt hem.
The chao that remained with Manic– the one that had climbed him in the first place, looked thrilled with the arrangement, clinging to Manic possessively. Manic rubbed its head again, grinning to himself. “Think I’ll call mine Hip,” he added, leaning back in the grass.
Sonic repositioned his guitar and snorted softly, grateful to quickly change the subject. “If you feed it enough it’ll probably get over your terrible name choice, too,” he said.
“You’re just mad because I actually thought to name mine,” Manic shot back easily. “What’s yours called? ‘Sonic Chao’?”
Sonic gently picked at the strings of his guitar but he made a face that told Manic that he’d nailed him. “Being named after me is pretty cool, let’s be real,” he replied after a moment.
Manic snickered, tossing a look at his brother. “Sure, man. Whatever you say,” he allowed. Amy watched him settle, a faint smile on his face as he pet Hip. Sonic started to strum out a song, humming along with it and effectively entrancing the chao once more.
And Amy figured things would get better from there.