Archive of Our Own

Three days in his newly extended grounding, Knuckles discovered that indoor confinement was its own, special type of torture.

He’d finished his morning exercise in the basement-- twice-- and was dismayed to find the sun hadn’t yet bothered to climb past mid-morning. Above him, the house creaked with its usual brand of chaos: Sonic’s distant wisecracks, Tails’ excited chattering, and the thump of something that was probably not meant to be thumped. It was all very distracting, but he had little choice in the matter. Normally, he preferred to do the activity deep in the forest, often from a high vantage point, where he could focus on his connection with nature and not be distracted by others. However, since his grounding now included outdoor restriction, he was forced to do it here instead. Here, where the floor was nothing but cold concrete, and the only noise was that of the water heater humming and his brother's constant, cheerful static.

Knuckles sighed, long and low. He’d earned this extended punishment, after all.

His original grounding, Maddie had explained to him with more patience than he probably deserved given the circumstances, had been fueled by a fraying of patience and overall frustration on her end. She understood that his intentions were good, if poorly executed, and, after a good night's rest to reconsider the matter, she was going to let him off the hook after the two of them talked it out. That was, however, before he “disappeared for several days to go to another state, and with Wade no less." (He'd felt a little offended at the insinuation of his new friend, but had wisely chosen not to speak up at that moment. He’d have more strategic opportunities for that battle.)

So now, not only was his grounding extended, but his freedoms were even more restricted since he couldn't be trusted not to pull a similar stunt again. As much as Knuckles's pride demanded he protest, his much more logical side recognized that he had messed up, and penance was due. He hadn't really thought his actions through, it seemed. In his defense, the victory high had been intoxicating all the way back to Montana.

At Knuckles's insistence, Wade had dropped him off at the road leading to his house, so that the loud motorcycle wouldn't alert his household to his arrival. It had been his entire intention to sneak back into his room through the skylight like nothing had happened and continue his original grounding as planned. He really thought his absence wouldn't have been noticed, but then again, he had learned a lot of lessons recently about those you call family.

The memory, raw and fresh, still sat strangely in his chest. He, so cocky and self-assured, just dropped into the attic room without any preamble. There, he found Sonic and Tails, evidently in the midst of some colorful card game, staring with wide-eyed astonishment at him. This only lasted a short moment, just long enough for Knuckles to process the scene before him, before Sonic shot off suddenly out of the attic, shouts of "Dad, Mom, Knux’s is back!" following the blue blur throughout the house. He'd not even had a chance to react to that, however, as he abruptly found himself with an armful of sobbing fox kit. Feeling mildly confused and overwhelmed, he'd just barely begun to comfort the child when Sonic returned and tackled the duo so hard that they all toppled over into a confusing pile of limbs and appendages. That was how, feet pounding the stairs, Tom and Maddie had found them.

In the resulting chaos of crying, hugs, and raised voices, he realized his absence had, in fact, been noticed. It left Knuckles with an odd, but not entirely unsatisfactory feeling in his heart, similar to the feeling he'd felt when Wendy had shared her heritage with him. Therefore, guilty and ashamed for his actions, Knuckles decided to take Healer Maddie’s punishment with the gravity it deserved. He personally vowed not to set foot outside of the house, as well as the other trivial stipulations she had set (he was not one for watching the "tee-vee" in the first place), until his punishment was deemed over.

The problem was, Knuckles was restless and worse, bored. He'd not spent so much time indoors in his entire life. Usually, he'd be able to at least meditate the time away, but between the noisy chaos of his other two Mobian cohabitants, his inherent lack of being able to sit directly on the earthen floor, and his own troubling thoughts, he found the usually simple exercise difficult to achieve.

And so, here he was, in the basement of the house, doing his katas more for the activity than the habit. Normally, he'd have finished the routine half an hour ago, but he'd stretched it out, doing more repetitions of each move to pad his time. With a sigh of defeat, though, he finished the last one he was willing to do for the day. As much as he would like to continue the engaging activity, he knew there was only so much his body could tolerate before injury. Injuring oneself in such a trivial way was a fool's errand at worst, embarrassing at least, and sparked the chance of Healer Maddie's ire and disappointment.

He plopped down on the cool ground, taking a long sip of water from the cup he'd acquired and willed his heartbeat to return to its resting rate. He was just pondering what to do next-- maybe he'd finally take up the foxes' offer to teach him this "chess" he’d been rambling about-- when his wandering eyes landed on something he hadn't really taken note of before now. It was a rack of some sort, sitting tucked by the wall next to the stairs. Each level of the shelf contained a singular glass bottle, all in shades of browns and deep reds.

Intrigued, Knuckles got up from the floor and crossed the room to investigate. Looking closer, he was surprised to find there was liquid in all of them, especially with how dusty the bottles on the top rows were. Was this a drink, then, or one of those foul-smelling concoctions Healer Maddie had specifically warned them about? There was something familiar about the shape of the bottle, however, and he knew he had seen the tan, circular stopper on the mouth of the bottles before.

Racking his brain, he picked up one of the bottles to examine it closely, and had a revelation. There, on the glossy paper that surrounded the middle of the bottle, next to some text that he couldn't be bothered to decipher, was a picture of purple grapes. And suddenly, a memory clicked into place. He was brought back to a moment in time, sitting at the table next to Wade at Wendy's house, that night when he learned about Shabbat. He had spotted a similar bottle among the plentiful food. When he enquired about it, Wendy had informed him that it was wine, a drink traditionally had at meals such as this. He also remembered, when he’d asked where the grapes were, that Wade had said, “They’re in the wine, buddy,” but then the conversation had continued before Knuckles could ask further.

Looking at the glass bottle currently held in his hand in a new light, Knuckles' curiosity was piqued. This was a drink made of grapes? How was it different from grape juice? Also, why was a food item stored so far away from the other household foods? This last one particularly stumped him, as Healer Maddie had made it clear, in an effort to discourage undesirable pests, that all food was to be stored in the kitchen until consumed. Having one room preferred over any other room in the house made no sense to the red echidna, but he'd stored the information away as one of “The Rules” he now followed. Perhaps the drink had simply been forgotten, then?

Another "rule" related to food in the house, however, was that Healer Maddie had made it clear that they were welcome to any food they wanted, any time. Her only requests were to write it down if they ran out of something and not to use the stove without supervision. This was a drink, and it was in the house.. It was allowed, as far as he could tell, and grape juice was rapidly becoming one of his greatest indulgences in life. Experiencing a new type of grape drink would certainly be a welcome distraction to the warrior’s acquired lethargy, as well. With all this in mind, Knuckles decided to drink the mystery grape liquid.

Figuring out how to open the bottle at first was a bit of a challenge for the teen. He tried twisting the stopper the way he'd learned that most bottles on earth were opened, but the strange, hard foam seemed to only rotate in place. Next, he tried pulling on it, a task that was slightly difficult to do with his gloves on, but he persevered. At first, it seemed like that option wasn't going to accomplish anything either, when, with an audible pop and a small amount of force, the stopper came off.

Knuckle stared at the cylinder of hard foam, mildly surprised at the experience. The only time he could recall something being this difficult to open was when he’d had the odd coconut. It had taken a (small, mind you) amount of his strength to pull the stopper out, which was near the full strength of the average human. How did they normally open this, then? His bewilderment at the liquid grew even more significant. Bringing the bottle up to his nose, he gave the mystery drink a cautious sniff.

The smell hit him like a vision.

What he came back with was a cacophony of his favorite sensations-- burrowing through the warm and water-softened soil on a fresh spring day, surrounded by newly budding flowers. The soil was dark, and rich with life. Somewhere ahead, early fruit hung heavily, waiting for him to find it.

The feeling was home.

He nearly dropped the bottle out of shock.

He'd never, in his 16 years, encountered a smell that affected him so vividly. It had to be sorcery of some kind, an elixir of happy times distilled into glass.

So, without a second thought, Knuckles tipped the bottle upside down and began to chug it.

(It should be stated here that chugging was the echidna's normal method of consuming drinks. Between the need for efficiency and pseudo-laziness that seemed a chronic affliction of teenagers everywhere, he'd long ago gotten into the motion. He was not, and liked to think he'd never be, a "sip it slowly" type of person.)

Knuckles was immediately taken by the taste, so unlike its scent, but related in an undeniable way. The first thing he noticed was a sharp, biting flavor that struck his tongue, unexpectedly rich. The flavor is so vivid that he nearly stops mid-chug, concerned it had gone bad. But the flavor, so tangy and deep, won over. It was like the ripest, juiciest fruits, mixed with something... darker. It reminded him of the wild berries, the ones he'd never learned the name of that grew along the rocky cliffs of his home. A taste that was both sour and sweet, alive but with an edge of bitterness that made consumption a compulsion. It was as if he were tasting the weight of years, of time itself distilled. It stirred something ancient and primal in him, and Knuckles revelled in the feeling.

At first, Knuckles’ impromptu venture was going to stop at just the one bottle-- enough to satiate both his curiosity and his boredom. But he was intrigued now. He'd never tasted anything quite like it, something that felt at once like a challenge and a reward.

He finished the first bottle, and reached for another one without a second thought.

This one, he only chugged half of at first, wanting to nail down how the mysterious elixir was making him feel. Its biting warmth was foreign to him, a challenge of both his mind and his mouth. Soon enough, though, the bottle was finished before he found himself chugging a third. He was drinking in defiance of something now, something yet unleashed inside of him, just out of reach. The liquid slid down faster as he urged it on, trying to capture the brief euphoria it seemed to be dangling in front of him.

Soon enough, though, that bottle too was diminished, and he let it fall to the ground with a noisy clatter. He winced at the noise and checked for broken glass, but the bottle held strong. Knuckles was impressed by the strength of such a normally fragile object, but considering its mystical contents, not surprised.

He thought about going after more of the potion-- there were 6 more bottles left on the rack, after all-- but ultimately decided that he was satisfied for the time being. A strange, fiery comfort was starting to take over his body anyway. Already, he could feel a foreign heat build on his face, like being in front of a raging fire. His limbs began to feel numb in an odd, disconnected way, like his hands and feet were suddenly heavier than the rest of him was. For a warrior like Knuckles, accustomed to battles and burdens, the sensation was odd but not unwelcome. To him, it felt like a victory, a release he hadn't known he craved.

Gradually, the world around him began to sway as a strange fuzziness settled peacefully over his senses. His fierce focus dimmed, but, strangely, he found he didn't mind.

He lurched to his feet and was surprised to find the room spinning around him. He felt reasonably sure that that wasn't supposed to happen, so maybe he should tell someone that the basement was broken. He stumbled as he took an unsteady step, his powerful legs uncertain beneath him. Clutching at the walls and then the doorframe, he slowly made his way to the stairs without falling victim to the rotation of the room. The motion didn't stop as he climbed the stairs, and so he held the railing in a vice grip as his usual precise movement was left clumsy and erratic.

Half lost in the haze of memories and warmth, he stumbled onward seeking another member of the household to share his experience with.

It was a pleasant fall day for Sonic and Tails. The temperature was just right, the air smelled crisp and clear, and the sun shone brightly in Big Sky Country. Of course, neither Mobian was aware of this fact, as both were deeply engrossed in a video game that Tails was rapidly thrashing Sonic at, much to the blue blur's growing frustration.

"Aw, come on!" He exclaimed, arms thrown up in disbelief as Tails simultaneously cheered. "I've been playing this game for months! How are you so good on your first day?!"

Tails giggled in response, smiling blindingly at his brother. He opened his mouth to explain, but was interrupted by a slamming noise that reverberated through the house violently. It came from the basement. He flinched at the unexpected sound, and only grew more concerned as a thumping noise seemingly made its way up the stairs, awkward and stilted as it was. Mirth forgotten, he looked to Sonic for explanation, and found a calculating frown meeting him back.

"Sonic…?" Tails began, ears pinned back in unease, "What is that?"

"I'm not sure..." Sonic trailed off, grim determination taking over, "Let's find out."

Cautiously, the duo put their controllers to the side, game now abandoned, and crept towards the staircase door. Luckily, they didn't have to wait long to solve their mystery, as the source of the racket revealed itself to be Knuckles, suddenly bursting through the door and subsequently tumbling clumsily to the floor right in front of them.

"Knuckles?" The younger of the two exclaimed with shock. "What happened?" Tails continued, leaning down to check on the fallen echidna. He was nearly bowled over as Knuckles suddenly sprang up, only saved from falling over himself by a quick catch from Sonic.

"Brothers!" Knuckles exclaimed loudly, voice boisterous in a way that seemed a bit more than his usual intonation. "I have made the most wondrous of discoveries!"

"Whoa! Okay, big guy, let's remember our inside voices, yeah?" Sonic gestured placatingly. But Tails could see the tenseness in his posture. Coiling, like a spring ready to let loose. "What did you find that has you in such high spirits?"

Knuckles staggered forward, causing Tails to take a step back out of instinct. He pointed a finger that wavered at the blue hedgehog, as though he wasn't certain where Sonic was standing. "My volume is fine!" He boomed, "As am I! A warrior such as I can not be defeated by the grape elixir!"

"Grape elixir?" Tails piped up, curiosity starting to win over his cautiousness. "You don't mean the stuff that's in the medicine cabinet, right? Because Maddie said--"

"I would not willingly drink such a vile concoction!" Knuckles spat, interrupting. He drew himself up, overcorrected, and smacked into the wall. He didn’t seem to notice. "This... ambrosia was unlike any other. It was left, abandoned, in the underground room on a shelf in glass bottles!"

"Oh no..." Sonic suddenly groaned, having apparently come to a conclusion that Tails wasn't privy to. "Don't tell me..." He moved in closer and sniffed at Knuckes’ panting breath, where a pungent and unusual smell was coming from. Sonic grabbed Knuckles by the shoulder, forcing the swaying echidna to look him in the eye. "Knuckles. Buddy, Pal. Amigo. Did you… Did you drink the wine in the basement?"

Knuckle squinted, trying to focus on Sonic's face. "Wine? Yes, a fitting name for the elevated liquid of the noble grape. It is a drink... for warriors," He paused, then nodded clumsily to himself. "I have conquered it,"

Sonic groaned again, releasing his hold on Knuckles to drag a gloved hand down his face. "Oh boy. Ohhh no. Knux, you're drunk."

Tails blinked up at Sonic, curiosity lighting his face at the new word. "Drunk? What does that mean?"

Sonic sighed and pointed at Knuckles, who was now trying to straighten his posture, but he listed to the left instead and bumped into the wall again with an audible thud. "That is drunk, little buddy. It happens when someone drinks too much of, uhhhh, adult grape juice. Makes you dizzy, loud, and super emotional. And stupid. Let me tell you, bar watching is a fascinating experience."

Tails' eyes widened, and he looked back at Knuckles with an analytical fascination. "Whoa... So it's like a mild poison that people intentionally drink? But people like it??"

"Yeah, people are weird like that," Sonic remarked, before snapping his attention back to Knuckles, who was now muttering to himself and flexing his fists. "Ok-ay Knux, listen now," He said placatingly, smoothing his hands out. "You're like, way too strong to be let loose right now, so I need you to sit down before you break everything."

Knuckles scowled, his words slurring as he clumsily stabbed a finger at Sonic again. "I do not... need to sit! I am Knuckles! Guardian of-- of..." He paused, squinting at the air as if the words were floating just out of reach. "The Master Emerald. And I... I will not be defeated by this-- this dizzying grape sorcery!"

"Yeah, okay, sure thing, buddy," Sonic said quickly, darting forward to steady Knuckles as he nearly toppled over again. "Tails, stay here and watch over tall, red, and lush over here. I'm going to go get Tom before this situation evolves into actual property damage,"

"Okay, Sonic!" Tails nodded in agreement before sitting cross-legged on the floor across from Knuckles, who’d finally, gracelessly, folded to the ground. As Sonic sped off on his task, Tails couldn't help but watch the other intently, observing this new phenomenon with scientific intensity.

"Fascinating..." he muttered to himself.

Knuckles, meanwhile, let out a huff and slumped against the wall, his face morphing into a serious frown that was more typical for him. "Do not... look at me like that, fox," He grumbled. "This... is a test of my strength. And I am winning."

"Really?” Tails tilted his head. “Not to be rude or anything, but it doesn't really look like you're winning to me."

Knuckles’ eyes widened with offense. He pushed himself upright again to prove himself, only to stumble and slide back, landing in a heap. He blinked dumbly for a moment, before he admitted gruffly. "... It is a very hard test,"

From the hallway, the pair heard Sonic's voice echo as he called out, "Dad! We've got a situation with your favorite echidna!"

Sheriff Thomas Wachowski, or, as he was more commonly known these days, ‘The Donut Lord,’ took a break from his work to wipe the sweat beading up on his brow. Despite the cool autumn air circling around him, the labor of his task was enough to overheat his body. He huffed, observing his surroundings from his position atop the roof of their house, and sighed as he realized he still had over half the roof left to sweep the dead pine needles off of.

It was an annoying task, but one that demanded urgency in Montana, as there were very few weeks in between the pine trees shedding their needles and the first snow. If he didn’t move fast enough, the pine needles would get trapped under heavy piles of snow and slowly rot away his roof. And with 3 super-powered children under his care now, he had to take advantage of any free moment he had.

Unfortunately, going by the rapidly approaching yelling he could hear coming from his now middle child, he had a feeling he wouldn't be finishing this task today.

Not even a moment later, he was proven right as Sonic was suddenly on the roof, talking in the fast, frantic way that only an experienced ear could easily decipher. "Dad! There you are!! We've got a serious situation here! Okay, maybe not Eggman serious, but still! Code red echidna! Or maybe grape purple? Either way-- Knuckles is drunk!"

"Sonic, what have we said about speeding on ladd-" Tom began to lecture automatically, before Sonic's words caught up with him. "Wait, he's what?!"

Sonic rolled his eyes in exasperation, practically vibrating in place with barely contained chaos. "Drunk! You know: sloshed, plastered, under the influence, two sheets to the wind! Do you get it yet?"

Tom groaned, rubbing his brow in preparation for the stress headache that was sure to form. "Okay, we are going to talk later about why you know half of those terms, but this takes precedence. How do you know he's drunk? Where would an underage alien echidna even get alcohol??"

At this, Sonic stopped moving and looked a bit sheepish, breaking eye contact to stare down at the roof beneath them. "Wellll," he began, drawing out the word. "Remember how, when I first moved in, you guys told me to stay away from those bottles in the basement? Did… you ever remember to tell Knux and Tails the same?"

Tom facepalmed in realization. "Ohh noo.. I don't think we did. Everything was so hectic with the military and the house repairs, I don't think either of us gave it a second thought."

"Yeah, and now Knuckles found it, drank it for some reason, and he's drunk! Now he's loud-- well, more than usual-- wobbly, and honestly? Kinda terrifying. You need to help." Sonic pleaded, just a hint of that desperation that always managed to tear at Tom's heart whenever it came out, no matter how infrequent it was these days.

“Yeah. Yeah, of course, buddy." He said, without a moment's hesitation. "Let's go see what kinda trouble a drunk echidna has managed before it gets any worse."

After reminding Sonic, again, not to speed on ladders, Tom began climbing down from the roof. As he descended, his eyes caught the abandoned pile he’d managed to make, and mourned the unfinished chore that likely wouldn't see any more action that day.

Following Sonic at a quick pace, he was led into the living room, where an interesting scene was taking shape. Knuckles was on the ground in the middle of the walkway, doing what might have normally passed for a push-up, but was way too sloppy in its movement to be anything truly productive. His fists slammed down with each effort, making the house vibrate in such a way that Tom was glad neither he nor Sonic was still on the roof.

Tails sat nearby, furiously scribbling into a small notebook as he observed Knuckles' actions. "Subjects under the influence of fermented fruits exhibit significant impairment of motor control," The young fox muttered to himself while still writing, "Yet, somehow retain a delusional sense of their strength."

Knuckes grunted at this, and his voice was loud enough to echo off the floorboards. "Twenty... five.... hundred! I am victorious!"

Tom, gobsmacked, could only say "Uh... Is he okay?"

Sonic gestured dramatically with an eye roll. "Define okay, Donut Dad. Because if your answer includes ‘sober’, 'calm', or ‘not trying to pick a fight with the house’, then no, he's not okay."

"Okay, fair enough, it was a dumb question," Tom said placatingly. He crouched to Knuckles’ level, switching to a cautiously gentle voice. "Hey, Knuckles? How are you doing there, bud?"

Knuckles suddenly shot up to his feet. He staggered at the motion, though, catching himself by placing his hand on the wall harshly. It left a very visible dent in the drywell that made Tom wince.

"Sheriff Thomas Wachowski!" He roared, much too loudly for the space. "Your house is weak! It cannot withstand the strength of an echidna warrior."

Tom sighed, forlorn at the hours of house repair they'd likely have after all this. Again. "I think we've already proven that you're stronger than the house, tough guy. Please don't continue to prove it?"

Knuckles squinted at Tom, seeming to consider his words. "Very well," he agreed solemnly. "A temporary truce, then,"

"Knuckles, that's not really what I--" Tom began to protest, but cut himself off as Knuckles suddenly overbalanced and toppled to the ground, smacking his head with a sharp noise that made Tom wince. "Whoa! Okay, let's take it nice and easy, yeah? Is your head okay?"

“Is it normally?” Sonic quipped to himself, managing to look guilty at the warning glare Tom sent him.

Knuckles sat up, rubbing at where his head had unexpectedly met the ground. A confused expression crossed his face. "Your grape juice has betrayed me," He said, despondently, "I have been bewitched by an alluring liquid. This... this was a trap,"

"One as old as time, I'm afraid," Tom responded, placing a comforting hand on the echidna's shoulders. "Why don't you just... sit here for a moment, while I go... assess the situation? Sonic, Tails, can you please keep an eye on your brother while I go see how much alcohol we're actually dealing with, here?"

Tails stopped writing in his notebook for a moment to look Tom in the eyes while he agreed-- a habit that he and Maddie were trying to impress upon the young genius, who tended to speak absentmindedly otherwise. Sonic shot him a mock salute with an enthusiastic "Aye-aye, captain!" That had Tom rolling his eyes fondly.

"Stay here," He reminded them firmly. "I'll be right back."

And with that, he stepped around his trio of unruly children and descended the stairs to the basement. Once down there, it didn't take him long to discover the mess his oldest had made, as three empty and discarded wine bottles greeted him mockingly. After the shocking revelation that his teenage alien son had managed to drink multiple entire bottles of wine--and oh, Maddie was going to kill him after she learned about all this-- he bent down to examine what of their small collection had been consumed,

"Oh, Knuckles, did you have to drink the pinot noir?!" He yelled in the direction of the stairs with exasperation, not really expecting an answer. "I was saving that for retirement!"

Well, with nothing more to do now that he had a better idea of how drunk Knuckles was, his only option left was to call the one person who'd be able to tell him whether or not he should be rushing Knuckles somewhere for a stomach pump.

With the reluctance of a man about to face certain doom, he pulled his phone out of his pocket and called his wife. She was hours away in Bozeman, attending a veterinary conference at the college, so he wasn’t sure how successful his call would be. Luckily, she picked up after only a few rings, which meant she wasn't in the middle of anything too important.

"Hey, Tom," She greeted warmly, and just the sound of her voice put him more at ease than he'd been a moment ago. "Everything okay? You caught me right in the middle of the lunch break."

"Everyone's safe and unharmed." He was quick to reassure her, a necessity in their lifestyle. "Well, mostly, anyway." He quickly amended. "So, uh, quick question-- what do we do if Knuckles drank say... three entire bottles of wine?"

There was dead silence for a moment so long that Tom impulsively checked that the call hadn't dropped. Just as he was about to say something, Maddie came back with the flattest "What?" he'd ever heard from his wife, which was as impressive as it was terrifying. He launched quickly into an explanation.

"Yeah, so apparently he thought wine was... fancy grape juice? I guess? And now, well... he's very drunk, Maddie. Like, very drunk."

In a mixture of concerned shock, she replied."Oh, my god. Okay, okay. Three bottles are a lot for a human, but I have no idea how it'd affect someone with his biology. First, is he still standing? Is he coherent?"

"Barely," He answered, switching into a more professional diction he'd usually reserve for police reports. "He's been stumbling around like a one-man wrecking crew. Had to convince him not to fight the house, but honestly, that might not be entirely alcohol induced."

Maddie huffed in amusement, breaking the tension. "That sounds like him, alright. But seriously, Tom-- we're going in blind here. We don't know how alcohol affects him. He could be completely fine... or this could be dangerous,"

Tom pinched the bridge of his nose, stressed. "Yeah, that's what I was worried about. What should I do? Force-feed him water? Call poison control? Is there an echidna-friendly detox center somewhere that I don't know about?"

Maddie sighed, and Tom could almost imagine the way she was probably biting her lip right then. "Water is good, but just have him sip at it. No force needed... Hopefully," She amended. "If he starts showing any signs of distress-- breathing issues, passing out completely,
excessive vomiting, anything like that-- you call 911 and then me immediately,"

He blew out a breath at the gravity of her words and started pacing the basement anxiously. "Got it," he said firmly. "Hydration and supervision. Anything else?"

"This might be a big ask, but try to keep him from doing anything that could get him, or the house, hurt."

"Ah, might be a bit too late for that one," He said sheepishly. "We may or may not have some new holes in the wall to plaster up later,"

"It never ends, does it?" Maddie mused wistfully. "I’m going to see about leaving as soon as possible, okay? Until then, just do your best to keep him contained?"

"You got it, Mads," He affirmed with no small amount of relief. "I love you,"

"I love you too. See you and the boys soon. Bye,"

“Bye," And with that, he hung up. As the silence of the basement rang around him, he couldn't help but let out a sigh of relief. Talking through the situation with Maddie made him feel just a little bit more reassured about things. It was one of the many, many things he liked about his wife.

But, he'd definitely left the boys out of his line of sight for too long now, and that was usually a bad thing on a good day. Steeling himself for the mayhem he was sure to walk into, he turned around and walked back upstairs.

He couldn't ever pretend to be surprised, then, when none of his sons were even within eyesight of where he'd last left them. At least he couldn't see any new damage, though, so he'd take the small victories where he could.

“Sonic?" He called out, ears straining to locate his missing children. If there was one thing the three of them were not, it was quiet. "Tails? Knuckles?"

For a moment, silence is his only answer, so much so that it starts to unnerve him. As such, he jumps a little at the sudden sound of glass breaking, seemingly coming from the kitchen. "Oh boy..." Tom muttered to himself before rushing to the room in question to see what flavor of trouble there was now.

The scene that greets him is honestly less chaotic than he immediately assumed, which
is a relief. Tails sat on the kitchen island, meticulously writing notes while kicking his dangling feet absentmindedly. Sonic and Knuckles were standing in front of the open fridge, with Sonic practically vibrating in place and Knuckles swaying to an imaginary breeze. At their feet lay the remains of a pickle jar, glass shards, and pickle bits arranged in a haphazard manner. The puddle of pickle juice was still seeping its way across the tile floor, spreading a sharp smell around the kitchen that was likely to linger for days.

All three boys looked up in shock when he entered the room. "What happened?" He demeaned, perhaps a bit harshly, if the flinch from his youngest was anything to go by. "I told you to stay put," He amended, voice softer but still authoritative. "Why are you three in the kitchen now, and what happened to the pickles?"

Sonic, ever the chatterbox, spoke first. "Knux said he was hungry!" He protested, indignant. "And you were taking for-ever, so..."

"Okay, fine," Tom accepted, not wanting to argue further at this point. "The pickles, though?"

Sonic, at least, had the decency to look guilty at this. "Yeah, that." He shuffled awkwardly. "So we got to the kitchen, and I was best gonna reheat leftovers for Mr. Drunk over here. But the pickle bar was in front of the light, and Knux demanded to eat the 'object in the glowing jar.' I tried to explain that it wasn't actually glowing, but he was persistent. And it turns out that Knuckles? Not a pickle fan."

“A vile poison." Knuckles stirred, speaking for the first time since Tom entered the room. Well, he started by looking at Tom, but his gaze quickly slipped off his face to wander the kitchen again. "A... trickery well disguised."

"No, it's just cucumbers soured in seasoning and vinegar," Tails interjected, not looking up from his rapidly filling notebook. "It's perfectly edible food."

Knuckles looked down at his hands, which were shiny in the reflection of residual pickle juice. "A vile... food?" He squinted in confusion, sniffed at his glove, then flinched back at the ship smell, "The appeal is... beyond me,"

"So, Knuckles tried a pickle, didn't like it, and dropped the jar on the ground?" Tom clarified.

"Yep," Sonic said, popping the 'p’. "That's pretty much it."

"It assul-assolt-salted..." Knuckles struggled with the word he was attempting to say before giving up and trying again. "It bit me,"

"Okay, buddy, good job killing the pickle jar. I guess," Tom conceded, "I don't need either of you stepping around glass right now. So hold on a moment." Stepping over carefully, he grabbed Sonic by the armpits and deposited him on the counter, sitting opposite Tails. Knuckles proved harder to maneuver, being much heavier and a bit more wiggly than Sonic was, but Tom persevered. Knuckles was placed rather clumsily in the open space he'd left between Sonic and Tails.

Next, he carefully stepped over the mess on the floor to grab a plastic cup, which he filled with water and pressed into Knuckles' hands until he was sure the echidna had a firm grip on it. "Here ya go, big guy. Drink up, hydrate, and please don't break anything else." Knuckles accepted the cup, his movements deliberate but unsteady. Tom caught him muttering something about the ‘ultimate drink,' but it was too slurred to truly make out. The important thing was that Knuckles was successfully sipping water now.

As Tom moved on to the task of cleaning up the pickle mess, Tails leaned back, poked Sonic to grab his attention, and whispered. "Is this what humans call a 'hangover prevention plan'?"

Sonic grinned in amusement, "It's usually part of it, yeah. There's all kinds of things to try and prevent hangovers. My personal favorite is eating a bunch of junk food, though I'm pretty sure it doesn't actually help."

Tom was reminded of the talk he'd definitely be having with Sonic later about the origins of his apparent knowledge. On second thought, he should probably have one with Tails too, now that the kit has locked on to the subject. He'd rather avoid him discovering inappropriate things about the world of alcohol, which is exactly what would happen if left unchecked. He knew this from experience.

"Yeah, that just sounds like an excuse to eat junk food, to me," Tails replied amicably.

Knuckles continued to sip at his water while his brothers chatted and Tom cleaned up, seemingly hyper-focused on the task. Just as well, because Tom was able to clean up the glass, mop up the puddle, and disperse most of the smell without further incident. "All right," Tom clapped his hands together as he stood back up. "Crisis contained... for now. Knuckles, how's that water going down? Are you nauseous, or were you still hungry?"

"Water is no challenge for me." He grumbled, seemingly affronted. "And I have... a mighty hunger. I need a feast worthy of warriors! Where is your fire? I must cook meat over an open flame!"

Tom had a million scenarios flash through his head of exactly how that could go wrong, so he was quick to shoot it down. "Oh, I don't think so, sorry, pal. How about we start with something simple?" He tried to think of what Maddie would suggest in a situation like this. "Like.... a salad?"

Knuckles, somehow, grew more offended at this. "Salad? That is no food for a warrior! It is the food of... rabbits."

"Or you know, people who don't burn their house down," Sonic helpfully quipped. Tom shot him a warning glare in response.

"Oh, come on, Knuckles! Salad is healthy for you, right?" He tried, hoping the plea would work.

"Actually," Tails began, and Tom could almost sense exactly where this was going. "Knuckles is a monotreme, with a primarily insectivore diet. While all Mobians are omnivores, plants aren't nutritionally necessary for Knuckles."

"What did you say I was?" Knuckles asked, looking at Tails with an intensity that had the fox leaning back slightly.

"A monotreme?" He confirmed nervously, before seemingly stealing back his confidence. "Same family as pla--,"

But whatever he was going to say got cut off in a startled squeak as Knuckles pushed a single, outstretched finger into Tails' chest and leveled a glare at him. "My name is Knuckles," he began gravely. "And I am an echidna,"

"Well, yes," Tails began to protest immediately, "I wasn't saying-,"

"Your name is Tails," Kruckles continued, bowling over his protest. "And you're a liar,"

There was a momentary beat of stunned silence that was shattered by Sonic bursting into laughter so hard that he fell off the counter.

"Knuckles!" Tom admonished, once the shock had ebbed enough for him to remember that he was supposed to be parenting these three aliens, and thus couldn't laugh like he wanted to. "That was very rude! Apologize to Tails right now."

"It's okay, Mr. Wachowski," Tails interjected without making eye contact. Tom winced at the formality-- yet another thing they were working on with Tails. He had been getting a lot better recently, but still defaulted when nervous or off-kilter. "I understand that Knuckles didn't mean it."

"I mean everything I say!" Knuckles defended hotly. "How dare--,"

"Okay, okay!" Tom interrupted before the situation could devolve further. "That's enough. Tails, I get it, buddy, but it's still not nice. I'll make sure Knuckles makes it up when he's... in his right head again. Knuckles, let's move on, please?"

"Fine!" Knuckles shouted, still angry. "I will try your rabbit food. It will be a test of my endurance!"

"Not what I meant, Knuckles," Tom stated.

Sonic, who'd recovered from both his laughter fit and subsequent fall, grinned at Tom with mirth and mischief." I'd just take the win, dad-nut lord,"

"Ugh, fine," Tom grumbled to himself, giving up on this particular hill for the moment. He grabbed the now-empty cup from Knuckles and refilled it. "Keep drinking this while I make lunch," He instructed.

For a moment, a peaceful quiet managed to fill the kitchen. Knuckles sipped amicably at his water, Tails returned his focus to his notes, and Sonic decided to make himself useful by grabbing all the needed salad supplies for Tom, at only slightly-faster-than-normal pace, too, which he appreciated. Over the course of the meal prep, Knuckles slouched more and more onto the kitchen island, as if his limbs were heavier than the rest of his body. The water cup tilted dangerously in his hand, threatening to spill what minuscule amount of water remained. With his newfound angle, his eyes landed on something interesting on the counter, which sparked his curiosity once more.

It was as Tom was slicing up the tomato that Knuckles spoke again, breaking the silence. "What is that?" He questioned, sounding mildly disturbed.

"This?" Tom confirmed, holding up the slice he had just made. "It's a tomato. A vegetable."

"Well, actually--," Tails once again intersected, but Tom was ready this time.

"I know, Tails," He said with as much parental patience as he could muster. "But for our purpose right now, it's a vegetable. Okay?"

Knuckles continued to stare at the tomato in his hand, eying it as if it were a weapon. "I do not trust it. It is red and leaky, like the blood of my enemies,"

Sonic snickered, clearly amused, "It's a tomato, my guy, not a death trap.. Just try it!"

Knuckles hesitated for a moment before accepting the slice as Tom passed it over. He studied it intensely, twisting his hand around in order to view every possible angle. Satisfied with his visual inspection, he gave it an experimental sniff before finally biting into it. His expression soured instantly, and Tom worried for a second that Knuckles was going to barf after all as he fought to swallow it.

"It is slimy." Knuckles ground out after a tense moment, seemingly baffled and a little confused. " But also tough? This is not food, it is... an insult to my palate,"

"Okaaay," Tom acquiesced as he scooped the cut tomato into 3 of the 4 bowls Sonic had grabbed for him. "No tomato for Knuckles, got it,"

Sonic the Hedgehog, aka the Blue Blur, aka the fastest thing alive (eat it, Flash!), aka the most awesome-est member of the Wachowski family (take that, Ozzie!), was having a very interesting day.

After the absolute fiasco that was trying to get a drunk echidna to eat salad-- the trick, it turned out, was a comical amount of ranch dressing--Tom herded the three of them outside in the guise of enjoying the fresh air. Sonic, of course, knew that it was really just a veiled excuse to get Mr. Red-Wrecking-Ball out of the house before their insurance rates went up. Again. Crisp autumn air greeted the group as Tom led them into the backyard, and Sonic immediately ached to go on a run. This was always his favorite time of the year to go running in-- the cool air whipping pleasantly through his quills, piles of leaves to kick up everywhere he went, and that beautifully golden haze that seemed to settle on everything in the early evening hours. And, as long as he ignored the dread of approaching winter, he was totally fine to just live in the moment.

But right now, his moment was here with his family, helping where he could while still having a little fun, of course. He'd already had hundreds of autumn days like this where he'd gone on runs, whereas family moments like this were a commodity Sonic hoarded like gold.

"Alright, boys," Tom said, breaking Sonic out of his thoughts. "Let's burn off some of that energy, yeah? Sonic, you're on fetch duty-- if Knuckles decides to punch anything into orbit, I want you to try and go get it. Tails, you're on general damage control."

Sonic smirked at the challenge, performing warm-up stretches with a dramatic flourish. "I was born for fetch duty!"

Tails beamed, encouraged by Sonic's enthusiasm. "And I've got the tools for damage control!"

Knuckles, however, was clearly not pleased about this. "I require no supervision," He grumbled, crossing his arms. "My energy is boundless, and my actions are always precise,"

"Sure, precise destruction," Sonic muttered under his breath. He winced slightly at the warning glare Tom sent him at that. He’d been getting a disproportionate amount of those today.

Knuckles, however, either didn't hear him or didn't care, giving no visual reaction to Sonic's words. Instead, he scanned the horizon intently, searching for something. His eyes landed on what he was looking for, and his glare deepened challengingly. Before any of them could react-- which was saying something, when Sonic was concerned-- he suddenly leapt forward with a fearsome bellow, yelling "BEHOLD MY MIGHT!" as he slammed into one of the massive pine trees across the yard, delivering a massive punch to its trunk. The tree shook violently as massive splinters erupted from where it was struck, and a cascade of pine needles rained down around them.

Sonic zipped over to Knuckles, incredulous. "Dude, we're supposed to play nice with the environment!"

Knuckles dusted off the bits of bark stuck to his fist, looking suitably impressed. "The tree remains standing; it has earned my respect."

"Not even close to the point, Knux," Sonic bemoaned.

From across the clearing, they could hear Tails titter nervously. "Uh, Sorry Tom, I don't think I have the tools to fix that,"

Tom, however, had his eyes set on a section of roof now covered in pine needles. "I just cleared that off," He said in such a small, defeated voice that Sonic could hardly even hear him. His sympathy went out to his dad-- this whole situation was definitely not something he'd signed up for.

Suddenly, Knuckles was in Sonic's face, teeteringly dangerously again, as he stared very directly at him. "Sonic, I have a secret," He slurred, matter-of-factly.

"Okaaay...?" Sonic hedged hesitantly, unsure of where this could possibly be going, or if he should shut it down now. Was Knuckles about to unintentionally share something he wouldn't sober? Would he be betraying brotherly trust if he didn't stop it? But what if it was something funny, or at the very least juicy? What if it was--

"I think...." Knuckles began, interrupting Sonic's train of thought, "I think you're faster than me."

Sonic laughed at this, partially at the absurdity of the statement and partially out of relief that it wasn't something serious. "Well, yeah! I mean, that's not exactly news to like, anyone, Knux,"

Knuckles gasped dramatically, looking for all the world as if he had been betrayed. "You knew?! And you still let me fight you all those times? Dishonor!"

Sonic pat him on the back consolingly. "It's okay, we can always say that I let you win!"

"You have my gratitude," Knuckles swore solemnly.

"Alright, guys!" Tom called out, catching their attention. Evidently, he'd finished grieving the loss of his hard work, because he was ambling towards the pair with a colorful bag in hand. Behind him, Tails flew a few feet in the air, carrying with him a similarly shaped white bag.

"I think we might need some more structured games to keep us focused," Tom continued, once he was closer to where Sonic and Knuckles were standing. "So I grabbed the lawn games. Knux, you ever play a lawn game?"

"I have played many games." Knuckles said cryptically.

"... Right," Tom responded, unsure, before picking back up. "Anyway, we're going to start with cornhole. It's all about precision and patience. Two things I'm sure you have in spades,”

Knuckles raised an eyebrow and crossed his arms. "You mock me, human. Precision and patience are the foundation of my training. I will master this challenge with ease!"

Sonic grinned, knowing exactly where this was going to go. "Oh, this is going to be a disaster!"

Tom sent him a disapproving look before helping Tails set up the cornhole boards. "Okay," he said, pressing a beanbag into Knuckles' hand, "All you have to do is gently toss this bag into one of the holes over there. Easy, right?"

Knuckles took the bag, inspecting it with the perplexity one would give an ancient item that may or may not have been a weapon. With a nod seemingly to himself, he took a dramatic pitcher's stance (Sonic was so proud) and hurled the bag... with way too much force. The bag skipped up the board, missing the hole completely, and went straight for the garbage can, knocking it over, spilling its contents, and leaving a sizable dent.

Tom winced at the chaos that occurred in the last 10 seconds. "At least it wasn't the house," he mused quietly. "Thanks, Sonic,” he said, as Sonic was quick to speed off to pick the garbage can back up and put the contents back in. “Knuckles... maybe dial it back a bit next time?"

Knuckles frowned, looking affronted. "This game is poorly made!" He shouted, "It does not account for the strength of a true warrior!"

Sonic snickered, greatly amused. "It's a beanbag, dude. You don't need to throw it like it's life or death."

Knuckles grit his teeth in frustration, grinding out, "Very well, I shall show restraint with the beaned bag."

Technically, it should have been someone other than Knuckles whose turn it was next. But, clearly, this was not obvious to Knuckles, as he begrudgingly picked up another beanbag. Whatever, Sonic wasn't really invested in cornhole, of all games (seriously, why did Tom even own a set?), and this was mostly just another Knuckles distraction anyway. Speaking of, Knuckles was winding up to do his next toss.

For his credit, Knuckles did manage a softer throw this time. It's just that his definition of showing restraint was clearly different from the rest of them. Sonic could only watch in utter fascination as the bag soared in a forceful but also somehow graceful arc, landing squarely in the cornhole so perfectly, but at such a velocity that the support bar snapped in two and the whole thing collapsed in on itself.

Sonic started a slow clap, building up speed quickly into full-on applause. "That was beautiful, Knux!" He praised mirthfully.

"I am victorious at cornhole!" The echidna cheered, throwing up his arms in celebration.

"Fascinating," Tails mumbled, and when Sonic glanced over, he saw the young fox had his notebook out again. "Knuckles' sense of proportional force appears to be entirely combat-based. Maybe some fine motor control exercises would help? Hmm..."

Knuckles growled, suddenly frustrated, and dropped the rest of the bean bags onto the ground carelessly. "This game is an insult! Show me one with greater challenge!" he demanded.

Tom sighed, clearly put out. "Aw, but I liked cornhole... But okay, yeah. I brought the other lawn game for a reason. Let's see what works for you..."

What followed was a tragicomedy of failure so incredible, even Sonic was impressed. They tried horseshoes next, with Tom figuring that maybe the problem with cornhole was the relative easy-to-break-ness of the pieces. However, Knuckles took this as an insult and threw the horseshoe so hard that not only did it indent the metal stake, but the horseshoe itself broke into ricocheting pieces. Sonic had to pull both Tails and Tom out of the line of fire at lightning speed, and he did not appreciate that particular heart attack, thank you very much.

So next, Tails floated badminton, as the goal of that game was to be intentionally gentle. After explaining a few different ways that, no, the birdie was not now or has ever been a living creature, he seemed to understand the game. To Knuckles’ credit, he did actually manage to send the birdie back to Tails, who had served it. Tails sent it back over the net to Tom, who then passed it to Sonic. Unfortunately, this is where Sonic could admit he might've messed up. He was just excited that this was actually working, okay! And, they were doing a family bonding thing, his favorite! So, perhaps carelessly, his racket hit the birdie with way more speed than he should have used, sending the now missile-turned birdie straight towards Knuckles. The echidna took this as a challenge and met the impossible force with all the strength of an immovable object. The birdie exploded into pieces upon impact, raining fragments down on them like confetti.

Sonic, of course, was over his guilt in seconds, dropping his racket and zipping over to Knuckles' side and thrusting his arm up in victory while laughing uncontrollably. "Oh man, you pulverized it," he'd said, once he caught his breath, "I think we just found your true sport: birdie demolition!"

Knuckles grinned proudly, flexing his muscles. "Victory is mine!"

"This isn't working," Tom said forlornly, pinching the bridge of his nose. "It might be time to try sobering up the fast way, since clearly 'wait it out,' is just gonna end with more property destruction..."

"There's a way to quickly diminish the effects of alcohol?" Tails asked, and even Sonic could admit he was curious, having never heard of such a thing in his time on earth. "What is it?"

"Come on, let's all get loaded into the car," Tom said, instead of a real answer, "Don't tell Maddie about this, but we're going to the Rusty Spur."

The Rusty Spur was less of a destination and more of a necessity in the rural countryside. It was a dimly lit, weather-beaten shack of a bar, located a good few miles outside the Green Hills town limits. It was accessible only by a dusty, potholed service road that made those unfamiliar with the area question if they'd made the right turn. Tom had navigated the journey with a surprising, albeit slightly erratic, confidence, his eyes fixed on the promise of the "Dog Bite." It was a drink of local legend, rumored to be an absolutely brutal but shockingly effective cure-all for sobriety.

As they pulled into the gravel lot, kicking up a cloud of dust in their wake, the bar looked every bit the rough-and-tumble watering hole its reputation suggested. The exterior was all faded paint, splintering wood, and neon signs that hadn't seen a refresh in decades. Inside, the heavy wooden door creaked open to reveal a haze of stale cigarette smoke, spilled beer, and the low, muffled growl of a classic rock track on the ancient jukebox. The place was busy, a low thrum of conversation filling the air.

When they arrived, their odd group drew immediate attention. Luckily, most of the patrons were from Green Hills and the surrounding countryside, and didn’t think twice about the Sheriff and his odd boys walking in. A couple of patrons even offered a friendly, albeit tired, wave. Most others, seasoned in the art of minding their own business in a small-town bar, simply took a quick, uninterested glance, then returned to their drinks and their own troubles, leaving the newcomers to find a quiet, sticky seat near the back.

Tom was quick to usher them to an empty, out-of-the-way table. "Okay, boys, I'm going to go talk to the bartender. You three stay here, okay? Knuckles, no punching anyone, Sonic, no speeding, and Tails, no dismantling of any electronic device, am I clear?"

They all answered at the same time, Sonic groaning a mild "Yes, dad," Tails squeaking out a "Crystal!" and Knuckles boldly declaring, "I make no such promise!"

Tom looked like he was going to argue before seeming to give up. "Sonic, Tails, please make sure he doesn't punch anyone…"

"Aye-aye, captain!" Sonic saluted mockingly, "This hedgehog is on the case!"

Tom suddenly looked unsure again and sent a pleading look to Tails. Tails, thankfully, understood and replied back with "I'll keep an eye out, Tom, don't worry!" without either of his brothers catching the vagueness of his tone.

"Thank you," Tom mouthed with sincerity, not realizing the mistake of entrusting this sort of responsibility to an easily distracted 8-year-old. Out loud, he said, "I'll be right back," throwing a last-minute "Be good!" Over his shoulder as he headed towards the bar, which only served to seal his fate.

For a moment, the trio actually managed to sit in silence, observing the ambiance of the alien environment. The bar was an active commotion with lots of noise, people milling about, awash with neon signs with advertising logos that matched some of the drinks held in their hands. A decent crowd was situated around a felt table, hitting precision shots at a ball with a stick. Around the bar itself sat people, either alone and quiet or conversing with another in unheard tones. Tucked neatly in the back was a small stage with a microphone attached to a small machine. A solitary woman stood there, poorly singing some pop song that Tails vaguely recognized from the local radio. A group of onlookers-- likely the women's friends, judging by their boisterous cheering-- stood around the stage, shouting encouragement. All in all, it was a fascinating environment for the three Mobians to study.

But, Sonic, ever the speedster, even when sitting down, visibly grew bored with the environment quickly. He drummed his fingers on the table in a fast staccato, eyes roaming the room until they landed on Knuckles once again, where a thought suddenly made its urgent way to his mind. "Hey, Knuckles," He spoke, gaining not only Knuckles’ but also Tails' attention."Why is your name spelled with a 'K' if you don't pronounce it?"

Knuckles blinked, his tipsy brain taking a moment to process the question. "What?"

Sonic grinned, gaining momentum. "Yeah, dude. K-N-U-C-K-L-E-S. But no one says it like 'Kuh-nuckles’ right? So… what's up with that?"

Knuckles scowled, angry and confused. "Because that is how it is written! It has always been written this way. It is a name of great honor!"

Tails tilted his head in curiosity, but his eyes shone with fascination. "But wouldn't it make more sense if it were spelled ‘N-U-C-K-L-E-S'? It would sound the same, but without the extra, silent letter."

Knuckles' eyes narrowed, suspicion creeping into his tight expression. "Are you saying my name is incorrect?"

"I mean, it is kinda weird, right?" Sonic teased. "It's like knight-- the 'k' is totally useless. Why is it even there?"

Knuckles slammed his fist on the table, causing the propped-up menu in the center to fall over. "The 'K' is not useless! It is a symbol of strength! of history! Of-" He stopped abruptly, a considerate look replacing the outrage, "... Wait. Why is it there?"

Tails, now fully invested, rubbed at the fur on his chin thoughtfully. "It must be some sort of old linguistic tradition-- at least, that's my best guess. I think it has to do with how certain letters were pronounced in ancient times, but got dropped from speech as language developed over time."

Knuckles clenched his fist, his face twisting in a mix of frustration and deep, existential confusion."So you are saying... my name is built upon a lie?"

Tails went to interject immediately, but the blue blur beat him to the punch. "Hey, I'm just saying, if no one pronounces it, does it really even exist?" Sonic said with a mischievous grin. Tails sent him an exasperated glare that seemed to say, "Stop provoking him."

Knuckles let out a furious growl at this, gripping his head. "No! This is nonsense, my name exists! My 'K' exists! This... this is some kind of human trickery!"

"Well, more like language trickery," Tails clarified gently. "It's kind of a weird language anyway. It does make me wonder, though, .... are there other silent letters in words we never question? Like, what about 'pterodactyl'? Why is there a 'P' in front of it?"

Sonic leaned forward. "Dude, or what about 'gnome'? Or 'wrist'? Or-- okay, wait, wait, this is a big one… why is there a 'B' in subtle?"

Tails gasped. "Oh, that's a good one! How about this one: why does 'colonel' sound like 'kernel'? Nothing about that word makes sense!"

"And don't even get me started on bologna!" Sonic added, "Like, whoever..."

But whatever Sonic was going to say next was lost in the din of the bar as Knuckles, frustrated and bored with the linguistic debate, quietly stood up and wandered away. Sonic and Tails were both now so engrossed in the discussion that neither noticed his absence. Which is just as well; Knuckles was beginning to feel tired and weary, and he didn't want to be around his brothers and their confusing words any longer.

Wandering the outskirts of the bar, he found himself naturally drawn to the small stage, where a different person was now singing something sad and slow. It was a soothing balm to his irritation, and it drew him in until he walked right up to the stage, accidentally bumping into another patron standing in the crowd.

"Apologies," he muttered to the man he'd unintentionally head-butted during his fugue state.

"It's all good, little dude!" The man, a blonde with spiked up hair and a baffling combo of shorts and a sweatshirt, answered. "She's good, right?" He asked with a knowing smile, jerking a thumb in the general direction of the stage.

"Very, yes," Knuckles agreed solemnly, before a question nudged at his brain. "It was someone else signing before her, yes? What sort of performance is this, where singers change so frequently?"

The man positively beamed at Knuckles, clearly excited. "Aw man, you mean you've never heard of karaoke before?"

"No." Knuckles answered, instantly intrigued. "What is this 'carry-okie' you speak of?"

Sonic and Tails were deep into their conversation about linguistics when Wade Whipple suddenly appeared at their table, cutting them off.

"Hey, guys!" The man greeted kindly, still in his police uniform but clearly off-shift for the day. "What're you doing here?" he paused for a second, then narrowed his eyes at them. "... Hey, wait, aren't you guys all too young to be drinking?"

"Tom brought us here!" Tails blurted nervously while pointing at the bar, while at the same time Sonic rolled his eyes and said, "Yeah, try telling that to Knuckles."

Wade followed where Tails was pointing and saw Tom gesturing very emphatically to the annoyed-looking bartender. He managed half an aborted step towards the oblivious man before Sonic's words caught up with him, and he whirled back around. "Wait, what about Knuckles?"

"He got into Tom and Maddie's wine, and now he's, uh, intoxicated," Tails offered helpfully.

"Prolly thought it was secret grape juice," Sonic added with a snort, "Knowing that knucklehead,"

A cold feeling, one that Wade was unfortunately very familiar with, washed over him. It was a feeling that, somehow, some way, this was all his fault.

"Tom said they have a drink here that helps negate the intoxication side effects," Tails continued. The ‘Dog Bite’ Wade knew immediately, having heard of the drink himself. He also knew it did absolutely nothing, and that amount of caffeine in it probably wasn't a good idea for such a small person. Before he could say this, though, Tails added. "He told us all to wait here until he got it. I wonder what's taking so long?"

"Wait a minute," Wade said suddenly, as a glaring fact made itself obvious to him. "If Knuckles is supposed to be with you guys, where is he now?"

"What do you mean?" Sonic asked with an air that implied what he thought of Wade's intelligence. "He's right... Oh, crap," Sonic's face, so confident a mere moment ago, fell as he followed his pointing thumb to a singular, empty seat beside him.

Looks of horror and panic quickly filled the two children. "Where could he have gone?" Tails cried, casting his eyes around the room with fervor. "He was just there!"

"And it's not like the big guy is quiet or subtle!" Sonic added, equally frantic. "Oh, Donut Dad is going to kill us!"

"And why is that, Sonic?" Tom asked as he suddenly approached the table, carefully balancing a disgusting-looking drink in one hand. A glance at the table must have given him his answer, though, because he stopped abruptly and glared at the innocuously empty chair. "Sonic, Tails," he seethed in a faux-calm voice that rattled even Wade, watching from the sidelines. "Where is Knuckles right now?"

" We... Kinda don't know," Tails offered, sheepishly avoiding any eye contact by instead intently studying an odd stain on the table.

"You... lost him?! How?!" Tom's voice seemed to climb up a decibel with every word, matching the winces his children were giving in return. "No, you know what, it doesn't matter right now. We have to find him before he causes anymore trouble."

"I'll help look," Wade offered with a small wave, inserting himself into the conversation. Tom looked at him as if just processing that he was even there, which, rude, but not something the man was unused to.

Luckily, the group didn't have to look long before the missing echidna made his presence known. Loudly. By tapping on the mic backstage in such a way that the reverb echoed noisily through the bar, catching everyone's attention immediately. There Knuckles stood, after first figuring out how to hold the mic, swaying slightly as he proclaimed to the room at large, "I dedicate this song... to my enemies…They have never defeated me... and they never will!"

Everyone had a different reaction to what was about to happen. Tom facepalmed, quietly muttering "Why?" to himself. Tails blanched and said, "Oh boy, this is going to be a disaster," while Sonic started to manically giggle and replied, "Oh, it's going to be amazing. Hold on, I need a camera," and in the blink of an eye and a gust of wind, he had one pointed right at the stage.

Wade, meanwhile, was ecstatic and immediately cheered, "Yeah, Knuckles! Sing your heart out, man!"

Sonic, while simultaneously taking pictures as fast as the camera could process, continued to giggle with his amusement. "Oh, he's not just signing, Wade, my man. He's owning it."

The chaotic energy that had seized the bar reached a fever pitch. What had begun as confusion over the sudden, loud performance by the massive, red echidna named Knuckles quickly morphed into an enthusiastic, roaring wave of approval. Knuckles belted out a bizarre, yet undeniably passionate, song-- a gravelly anthem focused inexplicably on the sanctity of honor, the primal joy of a good fight, and the immutable pull of destiny. His deep, booming voice, though completely untrained, rang with a sincerity that the barflies found infectious. Spurred on by a boisterous man leaning against the stage, Knuckles even began to attempt a few clumsy, if not passionate, dance moves.

Finally, with a climactic, prolonged note that seemed to shake the very rafters of the establishment, Knuckles reached the song's grand conclusion. He drove his bulky form into a dramatic, muscular pose—one hand thrust to the sky, the other clutched to his chest—and let the heavy, wired microphone plummet from his grasp. It hit the worn wooden stage with a startling thud, signaling the end of his performance.

The bar erupted. Whistles, stomping, cheers, and thunderous applause cascaded over him, a sound that made the air thick and electric. Knuckles, his chest visibly swelling with pride, took a deep, satisfied breath, basking in the glow of his sudden, unexpected stardom.

Throughout this impromptu performance, Tom had been executing his own grueling mission: battling his way through the dense, cheering bodies that had now coalesced toward the stage. He sidestepped a man spilling beer, ducked under a raised fist, and apologized his way past a group of women who were absolutely captivated by the echidna. He arrived at the foot of the stage just as Knuckles struck his final, self-important pose.

Knuckles, utterly swept up in the adrenaline and the worshipful noise of the crowd, was utterly oblivious to anything outside his personal moment of glory. He never heard Tom’s labored approach, nor did he see the man step onto the lowest stair. His triumphant daze ended abruptly when Tom’s strong, determined arms clamped around his waist.

Before Knuckles could utter a confused protest or even shift his considerable weight, Tom executed a practiced move. He yanked the echidna forward, tucking Knuckles's entire, rigid form under his right arm like an unwieldy, muscular sack of potatoes. Holding the now-stunned performer firmly against his ribs, Tom turned to face the crowd, which had instantly fallen into a baffled silence as they registered the sudden, violent action on the stage.

Tom offered the now-silent and staring patrons a small, utterly inadequate, and deeply awkward wave with his free hand. "Uh, sorry folks," Tom said, leaning down to the mic and wincing at the feedback he accidentally triggered. "But this guy is grounded, so the show’s over."

Knuckles, outraged, attempted to wriggle, unsuccessfully, from his impromptu grapple. "Another song!" he cried. "I must lead this establishment to glory!"

"Nope," Tom chided, walking off with the protesting teen still firmly held. The crowd parted as he walked through, disinterested now that their source of entertainment was over. "You are going to drink your drink, and then we are going home,"

He reached the table where, thankfully, Sonic and Tails still were, clapping loudly at the approaching star of the night. Wade, however, was perhaps the loudest, practically hollering his praise. "Knuckles, my man! That was awesome! I knew you had rockstar energy in you."

Knuckles immediately stopped his struggling and perked up, beaming as he made eye contact with Wade. "Warrior Wade! I am pleased you are here. Did you see? The crowd roared for me! Their cheers were like the winds of battle. This was a glorious day for Knuckles the Echidna!"

Wade smiled, happy for his friend. "Yeah, man, you crushed it! But, uh, maybe next
time, pick a song that actually has lyrics you know?"

Tom, seeing that the fight had left Knuckles, at least for the time being, deposited him back in his seat between Sonic and Tails. Knuckles leaned back into it, a self-satisfied grin making its way onto his face. "Lyrics are unimportant when one sings from the heart, Warrior Wade,"

"Fair enough," Wade conceded with an amused chuckle.

"Alright, karaoke champ, let's get this over with so we can go home," Tom said, having picked up the glass he'd set on the table before going to retrieve his wayward son.

Suddenly, Wade remembered something else that was important, and he rushed to clarify his concern before it was too late. "Wait, Tom, that's not the 'Dog Bite,’ is it?"

Tom paused, looking at his friend with exasperated exhaustion. "Uh... yeah? That's their 'famous' sober cure, right?"

Wade snorted derisively, "Yeah, more like, infamous. That thing's just carrot juice, Redbull, and tequila. I don't know like... anything, really, about alien or echidna biology, but you probably don't want to give that to him?" The last part ended in a fast question, not wanting to seem like he was stepping over some sort of parenting line.

Tom groaned and set the drink back down on the opposite side of the table from his children, who were now all eying the glass with varying levels of interest. He ran his free hand down his face while saying, slightly muffled by the action. "Of course it is. I should've known,” there was a beat, before Tom suddenly withdrew his hand and stared at Wade with horrific realization. “Is this why there's been such an uptick in DUIs lately?"

Wade blinked back in shock, the thought never occurring to him. "Oh man, I didn't even think about that! Uh, yeah, probably?"

"Ugh, okay,” Tom said, clearer now that his face wasn’t buried in his hands anymore. “After this whole situation is over with, you and I should probably have a talk with the owner. At best, this is definitely false advertising. At worst, this could cause a serious accident."

Wade nodded in eager agreement. "You got it, boss man!"

Tom looked like he was about to protest something, but quickly gave up. Instead, he turned his attention back to the kids, who had apparently gotten bored in his wake. Sonic and Tails were attempting to see how many salt packets from the dish in the middle of the table they could stack like a house of cards, while Knuckles watched in silent enrapture. "Okay, kids," Tom said loudly to catch their attention. This made Tails jolt from the careful concentration he'd had trying to stack a particularly perilous packet, and the whole thing collapsed on itself.

"Ugh, Dad!" Sonic complained, "We finally got it up to level 3!"

"Yes, well, we have salt packets at home if you guys seriously want to keep doing this," Tom snarked back, "Now come on, let's get into the car before anything else can happen,"

"Fineee..." Sonic groaned and sped off without another word. Tails took a moment to put the displaced packets back, while Knuckles bonelessly slid out of his chair, oddly silent now.

"What're we going to do next?" Tails asked when he was done, flying next to Tom lazily while he took Knuckles by the shoulders and started guiding him out the door.

"Now? Uh, go home, I guess, and hope the worst of it is over,"

Wade, who had been left at the now-abandoned table, watched the odd family leaving with a troubled look on his face. He felt for Tom, he really did. He'd only had the briefest taste of responsibility when he and Knuckles had gone to Nevada, and he'd nearly gotten the kid killed. He couldn't imagine what it was like to deal with three of them, especially as unexpectedly as they'd shown up. To deal with the current situation, all while Maddie was out of town, must have been overwhelming.

No wonder the man looked so exhausted.

All of a sudden, he had an idea of how he could help. Looking back, he could see that Tom hadn't made it out the door yet, as Knuckles was apparently literally dragging his feet behind. Split decision made, Wade jogged the 20 feet it took to catch up with the mismatched family.

"Hey, Tom!" Wade exclaimed breathily, having been winded slightly by the 20-foot jaunt. "What were you guys going to do for dinner tonight?"

Tom, slightly startled by Wade, floundered for a moment." Oh, uh, I... Honestly? No idea, at this point. Why?"

"How about pizza, my treat? I can also help out with watching Knuckles, if you want. I may not be the most responsible person, but at least I can help, so it's not you all alone with three kids to watch over."

“Wade, I regret everything mean I have ever said about you," Tom said emphatically, grateful. "You are a saint among men,"

"Ah, it's no biggie," Wade started, before the rest of Tom's words caught up to him. "Hey, wait, what all have you said about me??"

Tom patted Wade's shoulder sympathetically, "Nothing to worry about, my man. Come on, let's go. Sonic and Tails have been unsupervised for too long now, and Tails has a bad habit of dismantling things when he's bored."

" Oh, okay!" Wade replied, outrage forgotten just as easily. "I’ll drive over to the pizza place then; text me what everyone wants. Then, meet back up at your place?"

"Sounds like a plan," Tom said gracefully as the two headed out the door. As they separated, Wade could hear him muttering to himself. "Sobriety drink? What was I thinking? I swear I was smarter than this when I was in college and had to have an 8 am class after a pub crawl. Ugh,"

Wade raised an eyebrow, but otherwise didn't comment on this new aspect of his friend's life he'd just learned.

As it turned out, Wade's help wasn't exactly needed anymore. This was, unfortunately, very typical for the well-meaning man.

It wasn’t needed because, after getting home from the bar, Knuckles just sort of... stopped.

It was almost like the echidna had entered a trance. He was quiet, pensive, and generally unreactive. Tom worried about it at first, and had very nearly called Maddie about it, but Knuckles would respond to direct questions, and he was still sipping at his water just fine. So, he figured the worst had passed and just let the kid be for now.

This didn't sit right with Wade, but he felt it would be better to let Knuckles be until he could have a moment to talk with him alone. Thankfully, Tom had offered to let Wade crash on the couch, borrowing some of the man's loose PJs. The house had long since gone quiet, the chaos of the day forgotten in the creeping chill of the coming winter. Everyone else had fallen asleep, with Tom being the last. Only the crickets singing their last songs of the year and the occasional nightbird filled the silence.

Grabbing a half-empty box of pizza and a luke-cold mug of coffee, Wade stepped out onto the porch, where he'd observed Knuckles sitting. Shoulders slumped, he’d been staring at the stars for quite a while now. The weary teen showed no reaction as Wade approached, but he knew better than to assume that meant he was unnoticed. It only took trying to prank Knuckles once to learn he was, as far as the man could tell, impossible to sneak up on.

So, Wade simply walked over, set his things aside, and brought himself to a seating position right next to Knuckles. Close enough that their arms were nearly brushing, and Wade could feel the warmth radiating from the echidna, contrasting with the cool air. For a moment. Wade followed Knuckles' example and stared out at the stars, wondering at what other secrets they held now that alien life had been proven beyond a doubt.

Finally, though, Wade got fidgety sitting there, so he decided to break the silence. "How are you doing, big guy?"

Knuckles let out a long, low sigh in response. "I... do not know, Wade. I feel as though much of my life has been in vain. I have fought for so long, and yet I still feel as if I have accomplished nothing. My people are gone. The Master Emerald still holds its dangers... and I wonder if I will ever find peace,”

Wade let out a low whistle, surprised. "Wow, okay. That's... Kinda a lot. It's… been a bit of a rough time lately, huh?"

Knuckles began to idly trace the grain of the wooden porch as he spoke. "I have been thinking... my mission is over. My clan avenged. But none of it satisfies me, and I do not know if that is right,"

Wade nodded in understanding. "Yeah. I get that. Sometimes it feels like, no matter what you do, nothing changes. Like you're stuck in the same old rut, doing the same old thing,"

"I am a warrior," Knuckles stated, yet it lacked the usual enthusiastic determination that the statement normally contained, "But sometimes I wonder, what else am I? If I am not fighting, then what is my purpose?"

"Hey, it's okay to feel that way," Wade was quick to add, "In fact, I think most teenagers do, at least once. Even I struggle with these kinds of feelings. I mean, look at me. I'm just a small-town cop, and I'm not even good at it like, most of the time. When I think about all the cool things my sister must be doing in the FBI, I wonder if anything I'm doing really matters,"

At this, Knuckles turned to Wade, facing him for the first time since the man had joined him on the porch. A deep frown creased his face. "But you protect your home, your people. Surely, that is enough?"

"Yeah, I guess," Wade said with melancholic dismissiveness. "Sometimes, it feels like I'm just... running in circles. Like, no matter how hard I try to make everything right, even just for a little bit, something comes along and tumbles my house of cards. And then I have to pick all the pieces up and start all over again. It's exhausting, and I question why I keep doing it, sometimes." He paused, letting the moment sit, breathing heavy as the last few words had come out more rushed than he meant them to. He cringed at himself for getting too caught up and derailing his original point. "Sorry, got a little too lore-dumpy there, haha. This is about you. My point was, it's kinda like that for you, too, huh?"

Knuckles didn't answer, so, to avoid soaking in the awkwardness even further, Wade popped open the pizza box, grabbed a now-cold slice, and took a bite. He chewed, thinking, and spoke after barely finishing chewing. "You know, man, I used to think my only role was being a cop. That it was my whole identity. But then I realized... that's just one part of me. I've got friends, like you and Tom. I've got hobbies, like bowling. I mean, heck, right now I've this sick pizza right here," He held out another, uneaten slice to Knuckles, encouragingly. He hesitated for a long moment before slowly accepting it.

"You can be more than one thing, Knux," Wade continued. "You don't always have to be the warrior, you know. Sometimes you can just be... you,"

Knuckles stared at the pizza stored in his hand, lost in thought, not yet committing to a bite. "Just... me?" he said, finally.

Wade nodded enthusiastically. "Yeah, man! You're more than just 'the guardian of The Master Emerald' or ‘the last of your clan’. You're Knuckles, you’re the only one who gets to decide who that gets to be. And honestly? That's enough,"

Knuckles’ brows furrowed even more, confusion warring with grief. "But, how can you know? You have not lost what I have. I have failed my people, I have failed their conviction."

Wade paused, then smiled sadly. "Maybe, maybe not. I don't think we'll ever know for sure, but you're still here, aren't you? Still fighting, still protecting what matters. I'd say that's at least living up to their legacy, yeah?" Knuckles was silent again, so Wade continued. "You didn't fail them, man. You honor them every day just by being you,"

Knuckles looked at him, grief melting into bewilderment. "By... being me?"

"Yeah!" Wade agreed enthusiastically. "I mean, you've obviously got the whole 'warrior' thing down, sure. But also, you care about any small amount of injustice you see. That's what makes you strong-- not just your fists, but your heart. You care about your people, about your friends, and heck, even about strangers you just met. That's your real strength, and that's why, above all else, I think you are honoring your tribe.

"I thought for so long that a warrior's heart was not meant for kindness. How could it? My people are no more because of choices made in battle," Knuckles said gravely. "I trained my whole life for honor, for duty, for... revenge. And now I am here, it feels... hollow."

"You've been carrying this 'last of my people' thing for a pretty long time, huh?"

Knuckles nodded slowly, almost as if unsure. "It is my duty." He began, voice serious, before it broke into something that reminded Wade that, at the end of the day, Knuckles was still just a kid. "But sometimes.... sometimes it feels like a burden too great to bear."

"Well, Knuckles, no one, not even weirdo aliens from outer space, is meant to deal with their burdens alone. It's why we try to make families, even when everyone isn't related. I didn't lose my family as you did, but even when I wasn't talking to my family, I still made sure I had people around me who would at least understand,"

"But I am alone," Knuckles retorted angrily. "That is what I have been saying. Who else could understand what I have been through?"

"Well, Sonic, for starters," Wade stated plainly. "Last of his kind, alone for years, stuck with a mission that he inherited? There's a lot more that I think you two could relate to, but that's not my point. My point is, all of us-- me, Tom, Maddie, and yes, even Sonic and Tails-- have all been through some tough stuff. Even though we're not echidnas, or guarding the Master Emerald, or anything else that's uniquely you, we're still your friend. And friends? We stick by each other. I mean, what's the point of protecting the world if you can't enjoy it with the people in it?"

Knuckles sat with that in silence, his form softening.

Wade leaned back, looking up at the stars again. "Look, man, I don't have all the answers. But I do know this: life's too short, and crazy, to carry that weight all by yourself. Maybe it's time to trust that we'll have your back, no matter what. Maybe, you can just let yourself... be."

Knuckles tilted his head. "Be... what?"

Wade smiled. "Happy. Content. A rebellious teenager stealing alcohol. Whatever you want, really. You don't always have to be 'Knuckles the Warrior,' sometimes you can just be Knuckles, the guy who likes hanging out with his friends and eating pizza,"

Knuckles blinked, surprised. Slowly, he allowed a small smile to grace him for the first time that night. "... You are a good friend, Wade."

Wade grinned, nudging him lightly with his elbow. "Aw, thanks, little dude. You're a good friend, too. And hey, anytime you're feeling like this, feel free to come find me. We don't even need to talk. We can just... smash something. Throw a demolition party,"

Knuckles chucked, a rare sound. "I would enjoy that. Your words... they bring me peace,"

"That's what I'm here for!" Wade enthused. "Well, that and snacks. And solving mysteries? But, mostly, being a good friend,"

Knuckles shook his head, still smiling faintly. "You are a strange man, Wade of the Whipple family. But perhaps, there is wisdom in your strangeness,"

"Haha, I'd like to think so." Wade joked. "Got to have something going for me, right?"

After that, they settled into contented silence. Together they sat, staring at the slowly changing starry sky in peace.

A peace Knuckles hadn’t felt in a very long time.

As the first light of dawn crept across Green Hills, melting Winter's feeble attempt at an early start, golden rays painted the landscape in opalescent hues. The world was still, save for the rustle of trees and the morning songs of the nearby birds prepping for their flight south for the season.

Knuckles was still there, sitting on the edge of the porch where he and Wade had spoken the night before. His head was bowed, but not in sadness or regret. Instead, from a close distance, he appeared to be in simple meditation. Beside him sat Wade's coffee cup, abandoned and long since cooled. For the first time in a seemingly very long time, he did not feel that old, restless pull of duty growing at his chest. The ache was still there-- always would be, to some extent-- but suddenly it didn't seem so pressing. It was almost odd, this feeling; a peace that felt so delicate that one wrong move might break the whole thing. He had carried the weight for so long that he had forgotten how it felt to be without it.

A soft creek came from behind him then, pulling him out of his reverie. Sonic stumbled to a speedy stop on the porch, spikes sleep-wild and eyes half open. "Morning, big red," he mumbled through a yawn. "You, uh.... been here all night?"

Knuckles didn't answer right away. His gaze lingered on the horizon. "I did not wish to disturb the peace," he said at last, voice calm and grounded.

Sonic smirked and plopped down with a flourish to sit next to Knuckles. "Huh. Guess that's one way to say you passed out sitting up,"

Knuckles shot him an unimpressed look at this. "You jest, but I am quite awake. My mind has been cleared, and I wished to reflect on it."

"Yeah?" Sonic nudged his shoulder playfully. "No hangover, then?"

Knuckles frowned in a confused manner. Sonic was quite used to it by now. "The hang... of what?"

Sonic's grin softened. "Ah, never mind. Forget I said anything,"

Distantly, there was a crash suddenly inside the house. An alarmed squeak, loud enough to trigger the two Mobians' basest instincts, was heard. Tails' voice followed, muffled but panicked. "Who left the toaster oven on with pizza inside?!"

Sonic groaned, burying his face in his hands. "Oh, no. Breakfast's on fire. Again,"

Knuckles stood suddenly, stretching his limbs out as he did so. "Then we shall fight the flames together!" He declared.

"Yeah, no, maybe just-!" Sonic started, but Knuckles interrupted with a war cry before charging straight towards the house, before he could finish protesting. "Ugh, I can't believe I just got Leeroy Jenkins'd," Sonic snorted to himself, before racing to catch up.

Moments later, the sound of chaos erupted from the Wachowski home, startling the nearby birds from their morning song into flight. Knuckles was shouting, Tails protesting, and Sonic was saying something faster than anyone could make out. Through it all, there was a sharp clattering of something metallic hitting the ground. Wade's voice was heard drifting sleepily from the couch, "Hey, save me a slice, guys."

When the cacophony settled. Knuckles emerged back onto the porch, a smoking and severely burnt pizza slice held triumphantly in his hand. "The fire has been conquered!" He declared.

Sonic followed behind him, coughing through the haze of cheesy smoke. "Yeah, great job, buddy. Real hero stuff,"

Knuckles’ grin was a proud one, unshaken by Sonic's sardonic nature. "Indeed! Another battle won in the name of honor,"

Tom, who was already awake but was hoping to have a little more time to hide out in his room before the daily chaos began, appeared in the doorway then. His hair was a mess, shirt askew as he took one look at the object that was formerly food, clutched in Knuckles' gloved hand. "You know what?" he muttered, seeing no immediate emergency. "I'm not even going to ask," As he wandered back into the house, he could be heard mumbling, “I think that’s my cue to make coffee. It’s too early for this.”

As the others bustled around, laughing, arguing fondly, and trying to open all the windows at once, Knuckles stayed back for one last look at the rising sun. The light caught on his fur, offering him its feeble attempt at warmth, and he took a long, steady breath of cool morning air. Somewhere deep inside, the warrior's ache was still there, but it no longer seemed to define him. It was a part of him, just as peace was a part of him, too.

Maybe, he thought wistfully, that was the balance his people had never found.

And when Sonics called out from the doorway, "Hey, Knux! You coming, or what?" Knuckes turned with a genuine, serene smile.

"Yes," he said, simply. "I am home."

THE
END