Chapter Text
It was early evening when Amy walked home from the picnic spot. The same one that Metal Sonic had crashed into hours earlier in the early afternoon.
Convenient, she thought; she finally managed to convince Knuckles to have a picnic with her, worried about him getting lonely up there on Angel Island. When Sonic and Tails caught wind of Knuckles' arrival, they were more than happy to join, and Amy was more than happy to let them stay.
The day was supposed to be wonderful; Amy had carefully set up a perfect spot, set for a perfect time, and made her friends' favourite foods. She cherished them, after all. When they arrived, they acknowledged it. They enjoyed their food - at least while they could. Metal arrived not even 20 minutes in, disrupting Amy's setup and targeting Sonic, which forced Tails and Knuckles to follow suit, completely forgetting about Amy, who found it difficult to keep up.
By the time the fight was over, Knuckles had to go back to Angel Island, and Tails was beyond tired. Sonic hardly ever got tired, but he bid goodnight regardless in favour of Tails, leaving Amy to clean up and go home by herself.
Now she's home; food half-eaten, staring at her drawing books of her friends' adventures, noticing how little she appeared in them. She took up so little space, and she hated it. She had started her drawing hobby to kill time, but lately she's been seeing it as a cruel reminder that she can't help Sonic as much as she wants to. Looking around, she sees all the mementos she's kept of Sonic and her friends; there aren't that many. Her eyes land on her fortune cards.
"The cards helped me meet the love of my life," she thinks.
"And because of that," she pauses. "I met all my friends."
She slowly walks over to her fortune cards, picking them up and holding them close. An unexpected desire to cry hits her like a freight train.
"Why? Why am I feeling like this?" She mutters to herself, hugging the box of fortune cards and contemplating what to do.
"I love Sonic, I love my friends, nothing will ever change that, but-" she pauses, air catching in her throat.
"I can't keep up with them..." She admits. And the cold realization simmers, not fully settling. Her drive to fight alongside Sonic fueled her determination to get stronger, but she knew that they often couldn't afford to.. handicap themselves for her? She doesn't know how to phrase it.
She looks at her hammer, the realization finally settling. All of her friends have something special to them. Sonic, his speed and his freedom. Tails, his ability to fly and his incredible intelligence. Knuckles, his strength and his unwavering resolve to protect the master emerald. She always wonders what she has that makes her unique. She could never really pinpoint the answer.
As if a fairy tale, one of her and Sonic's flicky buddies flies in on her windowsill, unbeknownst to her distress. Upon witnessing her state, it flies down and lands in front of her. Carefully, Amy picks it up and gently hugs it against her face, trying not to cry all over it.
"I can see why they don't bother waiting for me," her voice cracks. "They're used to running and springing into action and.." She takes a long pause.
"I'm not." She swallows.
Amy recognizes this flicky. It was the same one who journeyed with her when Metal Sonic started rounding up every Mobian and trapping them (Sonic IDW Amy Rose 30th Anniversary comic). The same one who has seen her gush about Sonic, save her friends, and witnessed her highs and lows - everything Amy failed to see in herself in that moment.
A deep sense of sympathy washes over the flicky, and it hurriedly flies to Amy's drawings, flipping page after page to remind Amy why she's been doing all of this. Instead of letting the flicky run rampant, Amy just lightly pats its head reassuringly.
"It's been a long day, little guy," she says as she fakes a yawn. "Tomorrow is a new day; we'll worry about this then."
The flicky obliges reluctantly, settling in a nest that Amy had hand-crafted for flicky visits such as these, the flicky's only goal being to be by Amy's side for the night.
"Thank you," she thinks before changing into her pyjamas and climbing into bed, smothering herself in her blanket.
Tomorrow is a new day.