The (Al)Lure

S91 has lunch and then a bad time

Amy is fine and then *is* fine

**Please Read! This chapter contains explicit sexual content of the vanilla flavor. If that’s not your cup of tea, you can stop when the partners exchange exuberant consent. This spice is not plot-relevant (sorry, all Sonadow spice is required reading) so you can safely skip should you so choose.

A small blue hedgehog stands on the sandy beach of small, deserted island somewhere in the tropics. He has to go. He likes it there, but the large red jewel in his young hand says he can’t stay. He has to go. He doesn’t like the water after…well, he doesn’t like thinking about it. He has to go. He can run on the water, if he’s fast enough. He has to go. He is very fast, but he’s still uncertain. He has to go, the jewel encourages, it will help him run faster. He has to go. One day he’ll be the fastest thing alive, but first he needs to get off this small, deserted island somewhere in the tropics. He goes.

o.O.o

Wake up! Prelate S91 jolted online. He shot up, clutching at the annoying apparatus pressing into his chest as he gasped for additional oxygen. He just been-! Come on! Had almost-! So close! 91 looked down at his shaking hands. What was wrong? The thoughts weren’t in his head. Why was he reacting like this? He couldn’t remember any danger. Shit!

He swallowed and looked around at the maintenance bay. The same one he always ended up in. He might as well start thinking of it as his bay for how much time he seemed to spend here. His whole body ached, from his exoskeleton to his chassis. A dull static played in his audio sensors. He took a deep breath, trying to soft reset his systems. It did not help.

“Welcome back, Ninety-one.” S91 flinched (why?) and looked up at Sage. Danger! She smiled warmly, but his core thrummed faster (why?) and his insides coiled, ready to strike. What the hell? There wasn’t any danger. I can’t with this guy…

“W-what happened?” The transfer protocol for recording his memories must have been disrupted because everything was coming up fuzzy. He’d been…almost whole again with S06? No, wait…that wasn’t right.

“What do you remember from your mission on the surface?” She asked.

What did he remember? Sand, mostly. Eating sand? Running. Feeling good running. But other than that? 91 knitted his brow and he shook his head, trying to clear the static. “I-I don’t think I finished the loop.” Where is Six?

“That’s right, Ninety-one.” He flinched again (at his own serial designation?). Gaia, he was jumpy today. “What else?” Sage sounded like she was giving him a pop quiz.

S91 closed his eyes and tried to call up the memories…and there was something there. Where is Six? His pointers were directing to occupied memory addresses, but it was like the data was corrupted or he didn’t have the right parser installed. She did this. Or something. “I can’t seem to access anything else. I just remember running and wiping out a few times.” Why?

“I see.” Sage seemed almost relieved. “Please allow me to fill in the blanks.” She gave him a gentle smile, but her eyes were concerned. Why is she doing this to me? A doting expression. S91’s ears pinned back and a strange shiver ran through him. What was that? “You did not complete your objective before you began desynchronizing. Instead of returning to the extraction point as instructed, you persisted and began allowing yourself to be distracted by hallucinations.” Sage frowned.

That’s not right! S91’s ear drooped and looked down. He’d messed up and disappointed Sage again, after he’d promised not to. Her frown is my fault.

Sage was not finished recounting his failure. “Your desynchronization progressed. What you understood your capabilities to be and what your body is configured to handle diverged. You began to decompose.” S91’s ears drooped. That sounded right. He had the impression he’d tried to do something that he just couldn’t. Duh, he isn’t whole!

Sage continued with a soft smile. “Luckily, your stabilizer activated, and I was able to retrieve you before any permanent damage was done to your hardware or internal systems.” He still felt like he’d fallen from the airship though. “However, you had to be recalibrated.” Ah, that would do it.

S91 cringed. Where is Six? That’s probably why he was so on edge. Recalibration was the absolute worst.

Every part was nothing but pain. He Being in the tube, his internal cavities filling with oxygenated solution, the electrical current running through all his circuits, like being fried from the inside out. has So much pain he dissolved into it, losing all sense of himself. to Even afterwards the torment continued, when his oxygen processing and nutritional processing cavities had to be pumped free of the solution. go A complete crap shoot from start to finish.

Just thinking about recalibration made his legs itch to move. How many times had it been now? Five. Times. S91 honestly couldn’t remember. He clenched the thin sheet covering his legs in his fists, winching as the IV in his arm was jostled. What’s in there? Pull it out! He reached to thumb the roller clip.

“Stop!” Sage held out a hand and S91 froze. “I know you are eager, Ninety-one. I understand your frustration.” S91 lowered his hand. “Please, Ninety-one.” She really sounded worried Liar!, “Please rest this time. Just-“ She motioned for him to lie back into the cushion supports. “Just stay put for a little while.” His legs twitched and he felt the sensation at the base of his spine. Stay put? He needed to move. Yes!

“What I’m supposed to do? I can’t just sit here, Sage. I’ll go haywire.” Where is Six?

She smiled and her eyes lit up brighter. “I knew that you would be disappointed when you woke up, so I arranged something special for y-“

WhereisSixWhereisSixWhereisSixWhereisSixWhereisSixWhereisSix

“Where is Six?” S91 blurted out, interrupting Sage.

She froze, her expression withering, and a moment passed. Crap, that was rude. I should apolo- “That is none of your concern.” His brow arched. Woah, harsh.

“It’s just that, you know, like he helped me out earlier, like, with Ninety-three, and, well-“ 91 rambled, desperately trying to cobble together a legitimate reason, “I just wanted to thank him. Yeah, like, again. I want to thank him, again for, like, keeping Ninety-three from disassembling my face.” Come on come on

Sage considered him silently for long enough that S91 rubbed the back of his neck, bashfully. Finally, she responded, “Six is preparing for a descent operation and cannot be disturbed. I will pass on your gratitude.”

No! “Thanks, Sage. I appreciate it!” S91 eagerly accepted the out of the tension that had risen. “Sorry, I interrupted you.” Shit!

Her smile didn’t return. “As I was saying, I arranged something special for you.” She gestured and the door slid open. One of the round lady-bug robots pushed in a metal cart topped with a cover meal tray. S91 needed to consume nutritional bars to support his organic components. They tasted so badly he questioned why he was wasting processing power of having a sense of taste anyway.

The cart was pushed flush with his maintenance table, and he eyed the covered plate with suspicion. He still had some sand granules lodged in his back molars and wasn’t particularly eager to try whatever Sage had conjured. He smiled weakly, “Uh, thanks, but I don’t really-“

“Just take a look.” Sage prompted.

As if to prove a point, his nutritional cavity emitted the rumbling alert noise, complete with an uncomfortable feeling that made him grimace. Frowning, S91 lifted the cover.

Sweet Gaia Below, that’s a chili dog! S91 blinked, not really sure what to make of it.

An elongated protein colored object (perfectly cooked spiced sausage) was nestled into a grain-based sheath (crispy, toasted buttered bun), but the consistency of both seemed…spongy (I mean…okay)? And then the whole combination was drenched in a thick, clumpy reddish-brown sauce (onions, garlic, peppers, chilies, ground beef, all in a savory tomato-based sauce slow simmered for hours!). All in all a pretty unappetizing mess. Dude!

Then the smell hit his olfactory sensors.

Whatever it was needed to be in his face hole yesterday. Oh, thank Chaos.

He grabbed the spongy mass and immediately covered his fingers in the sauce. Undeterred, he brought it to his mouth and took a small bite.

The pupils of his eyes blew open as the flavor exploded in a cascading kaleidoscope in his mouth. In an instance, half of it was in his mouth with the rest fast behind. Sauce dripped down his chin and onto his chest. His glands dumped a mess of chemicals into his system, bursting out in spirals of fuzzy contentment. He could get used to this.

“Slow down. You don’t want to choke.” Sage’s warning fell on disabled auditory sensors.

While he was certain that he could have fit the whole vaguely cylindrical food item down his throat without chewing, he stopped just short, chopping off the last fifth. As he chewed, Sage explained. “This is called a chili dog.” Her gaze fell to his chest and 91 looked down.

His chest and stabilizer were stained with the reddish-brown sauce. He smiled meekly, though his cheeks were still stuffed, and retrieved a napkin from the cart. He tried to clean himself up as Sage continued, “It was a human delicacy before the invasion. I had a feeling you would enjoy it.” Enjoy it? It was the best thing he’d ever tasted!

S91 swallowed. “Why are you doing this?” He found himself asking instead of saying thank you like he should, rude idiot! He put the last bit of chilidog back on the plate. He didn’t deserve it after he failed…and kept failing.

“What?” Sage seemed almost taken aback.

“You don’t have to do this.” You said you didn’t want to… S91 swiped up a blot of dropped chili from the plate and examined it as the oil permeated his glove. “I broke my promise. I messed up again.” He hung his head. The lingering tastes on his tongue were turning bitter. “I’m a failure.”

“Ninety-one, look at me.” Sage commanded. Slowly his gaze lifted. “The only failure is to quit. And I know you will never quit.” I never give up.

S91 rubbed the sauce from his fingers with a napkin. He didn’t feel hungry anymore. “Easier said than done.” He said ruefully.

Sage was undaunted. “I will never give up on you.” S91’s ears perked. It was hard to stay dejected in the face of Sage’s encouragement. “It is very important to me that you believe in yourself like I believe in you, Ninety-Three. You will overcome your limitations. You will defeat the Shadelord and become the hero I know you are.” No!

S91 looked at Sage and saw the determination in her projection’s eyes. He smiled softly, “You really think I can become the real Sonic?”

She placed her hand over her heart. “I know you can. Once the Shadelord is dead, you’ll have the whole world to explore.” Stop! With ░▒▓██▓▒░ . Please! Once S91 was the real Sonic, ░▒▓██▓▒░ would love him and they’d have the world together. Stop it!

His name is ░h▓██▓▒░!! ░▒▓d█▓▒w!! Why can’t-?

ERROR

S91 flinched, sucking air through grit teeth and grabbed his head. It was that stabbing pain again. Again? Great…he probably had lasting damage after his sand adventure.

“What’s wrong, Ninety-one?”

“My head is killing me. Like my processor keeps throwing up fatal errors.”

“I see. You were already scheduled to run in a stress test later so that I can run a full diagnostic. I will take especial note of any cranial abnormalities.”

Oh, that might be kinda nice actually. Stress tests were boring as hell, but at least he got to run pretty fast on the treadmill thing. “Though, please be aware that I intend to push you further than normal.”

“Are you threatening me with a good time?” S91 gave her a cocky grin. He was feeling better now that his head was clearing. The static was gone, too.

“You are free to interpret my words however you wish.” Sage chuckled. “For now, get some rest. I will see you soon, Ninety-one.” 91 gave a small wave and Sage’s visage disappeared.

S91 leaned back. His gaze bounced around the stark grey room. Other than the maintenance table he laid on, there wasn’t anything except for equipment and supplies to service is organic components. His eyes fell on the last bite of chilidog, and it was in his mouth so fast it left an afterimage.

It was tragic how little there was to do. S91’s legs began to twitch under the thin sheet. He used the remaining napkins and a glass of water to clean the chilidog sauce off his chest and stabilizer better. He still had some discoloration, but it was serviceable for now. Sage always made him go through a detailing after stress tests before his expulsions stunk up the place.

His mind quickly started to wander.

Could he beat his record speed at the stress test today? Sage said that she’d go harder on him. Ha, she better! He was feeling all pent up. Would she give him another chilidog if he did well enough? He sure hoped so. Where was Six? That guy was so cool. Maybe he’d teach 91 that cool vibrating thing he did with his hand to cut through M93’s fore-

The door slid open, breaking 91’s train of thought. His face lifted into a massive smile. “Mr. Tinker!” S91 greeted the old, portly human. “What brings you here?”

“My boy!” He threw his arms wide in a jovial greeting. “I heard you took quiet a licking on the surface. Terrible luck that, eh?” His words seem like they should sound convivial, but they don’t.

“O-oh, yeah.” S91’s ears drooped but he kept his smile up.

“I heard Sage gave you a last meal of sorts.” The old man gestured at the empty plate. Mr. Tinker really needed to work on his smile. There’s no way he was aware how menacing it was. “Against my express orders.” What was that?

“Uh, well it was really good. It was really nice of her to do that for me.”

“Especially because you’re so pathetic, right?” S91 shrank back. “It’s just illogical to spend resources on a lost cause, don’t you agree?”

S91’s face was starting to ache. “Sage says she believes in me.” He offered as an answer.

“And I’m sure she does.” He really had a way with words. Mr. Tinker clapped his large hands together. “But that’s neither here nor there. Come!” He motioned towards the door. “I require you to test a theory of mine.”

Bored as he was, something was still tickling the back of his head, screaming that he shouldn’t go anywhere with the mechanic. “Oh, yeah, sure, but Sage said I should rest.” Damn, his cheeks were starting to burn.

Mr. Tinker approached and loomed over him and S91 suddenly felt the size difference between. Sure was disconcerting, b-but he wasn’t bothered…right? Bending down, his large smile that didn’t reach his eyes held firm, he said in a low voice, “That was not a request.”

S91 gulped.

Mr. Tinker filled the time they walked through the large flagship with a plethora of complaints about Sage. How she wouldn’t let him do this or that. How boring she was, mercilessly effective, yes, but a killjoy, nonetheless. She was overprotective and a nag. And yet he was so very proud of her. S91 nodded along absently, with a growing sense of awkwardness and pain in his jaw.

“Are you even listening to me?”

S91’s ear flicked and he realized Mr. Tinker was talking to him. “Oh, sorry, can you say that again?”

A hand snatched the shell of his ear and gave it a twist. 91 yipped through his strained grin. “Pay attention when I’m talking to you!” Mr. Tinker gave the soft tissue a sharp pull before releasing it.

“S-Sorry!” S91 rubbed his ear. Why was his core throbbing so quickly? He was leaking coolant as if he was in combat. Hopefully Sage would figure out what was wrong with him during the stress test.

“As I was saying, you know a lot about suffering, don’t you?”

S91 didn’t know how to answer that question. “I guess?”

“There’s a saying, I’m sure you know it, that suffering builds character. Do you feel like you’ve got a particularly strong character?” Okay…where was this going? S91 remained silent. The old man was clearly about to monologue, might as well let him. Where were they going anyway? He’d never been to this part of the base.

“You’re very lucky.” Mr. Tinker continued, pulling at his unkempt mustache as they walked. “Most suffering is pointless. Utterly senseless distress with nothing to show for it after. But you, well, yours has a use. Other than as entertainment, that is!” He began to laugh.

S91’s ears laid flat on his head and his tail curled under him. He really didn’t like this conversation. Where was Sage? He was really ready to run on the treadmill right now. Run until he forgot this whole conversation ever happened.

Finally, they arrived at a large door in the deep recesses of the ship, near the engines. ”Ah! Here we are.” The human turned and faced him, leering down at him through his thick glasses. “I have a question for you, and I want you to answer honestly, you got that rat?”

S91’s brow was knitted, but he nodded. He just wanted this, whatever it was, to be over.

“Doesn’t is feel nice, knowing your suffering has meaning?”

S91 swallowed, but his mouth was strangely dry. That’s a really strange question. “I-I don’t know?” He offered. The man laughed again.

Mr. Tinker palmed the access panel, shifting the locked red to open green and the door slid open. His maniacal jovial face became bathed in dark purplish-red light. !!!!!!!Danger!!!!!!! “Would you look at that?” The uneasy feeling at the back of his skull ramped up to a thunderous pounding. Hehastogo!

STOP don’t stopstopstopstopstopstopstop!

Still, he found himself moving forward, But As his gaze shifted to the Contents of the room, his heart body sputtered shuddered and his breath caught suddenly. W-hat? NO!

An intense ringing filled his ears, bleaching out all sound. Amy!

At the center of the room, he tried to focus on her face encased in a glass display, from which many cables ran, floating on its own and but everything was starting to blur exuding a darK magenta aura, was an icosahedronal gemsTone.

What was he supposed to do? There was something he was supposed to do when this happened, but his mind was getting frantic, flittering back and forth across a million little things.

Breathe!

THE feaR was ovErwhelming

and

the rage was missing.

Blood and tears and pain and hate.

S91’s Body seized up. Over and over His core went into overdrive. I c-can’t! He stood in the doorway, his body pAralyzed with overwhelming fear he simply did not understand. Over and over The rush of his internal fluids was pounding in his ears. WAKE S91 systems were shutting down for laCK of oxygen. RUN The boRdEr of his DIE vision was already fading into a dark green. WAKE

“M----, what the hell are you doing down here?” Over and over Mr. Tinker grumbled, pushing past S91 and entering the room. AMY! The M Model gazed at the floating gemstone, but he exhibited none of the distress that S91 was plagued with. “Whatever.” Over and over The large man rounded on S91, but did not block his view of the object.

What was happening to him? Breath! He needed to Breath! His body was locked up, shut down, paralyzed and he didn’t understand why! This is real! No, it wasn’t! He needed to-!!

Quills flared, sharp enough to tear through steel, cutting through bone and sinew.

“There you go.” Mr. Tinker smirked self-satisfied. “Shine, you wretched little beacon. Time to get this show on the road and be done with you. I can’t wait to get back to how things used to be.”

Gloves soaked through with bile and blood, bit of bone stuck on his brow.

“What are you doing?” Sage materialized, her visage glitching wildly with red pixelated blocks of color.

Bit of yellow fur stuck on blue, bit of pink.

M93’s attention moved to Sage and then he spotted S91 in the doorway, his red eyes narrowing.

Black and red, black and red.

Mr. Tinker grinned at Sage, placing a hand on one hip and brandishing his other flippantly. “Helping you, of course.”

Can’t do it anymore. Won’t fight any more.

“This was not the plan. The evacuation has not been completed and you’re drawing his attention too early.”

Just die. And die and die and die.

M93 walked pass the arguing human and hologram and stood in front of S91, scrutinizing him. Not good! Not good! Move, come on, got to move! His body refused to respond. He managed a tottering half step back.

Could wake up any moment now, back there.

“Oh so, there’ll be a little collateral damage. Boo-hoo! That’s half the fun, seeing them scramble around like cockroaches trying to save every unlucky fool they can find. Besides, I was just testing a theory. One that I was right about, by the way. Now you can get down to business sooner. You should be thanking me, my dear.”

Could all be fake, just like all the other times.

M93 grasped both S91’s forearms and pushed him back into the corridor, pressing his back against the metal wall. The blazing magenta color of the gemstone radiated around M93’s head like a hellish halo. amy S91 couldn’t look away, couldn’t move, could barely breath in desperate fast sips. The clawed hands slipped up, past his elbows to grasping his upper arms in a vice-like grip.

No certainty, ever.

“He was supposed to meet up with the others and be drawn in when I released the communications blackout once the majority of the population was clear. This-“ She waved a flickering hand at S91 without looking at him, “was wholly unnecessary.”

No way of knowing for sure.

The pressure increased and pain spiked through S91. He released a small whine, what little air he had escaping in a thin whistle. please The storm at the back of his mind met the flurry of pain, mixing into a thick haze. Why was this happening to him? He was dissolving into the fear and pain, becoming cold tatters of himself.

Could all be a lie.

“Ninety-one!” Sage’s voice called out, but he didn’t register it as the crushing pressure ramped up further and further. S91 was too diluted to understand anything. Whatever was happening, he wasn’t all there. It wasn’t happening to him.

Might wake up, back there.

??░▒▓██▓▒░??

!!░▒▓██▓▒░!!

please, I just want to…

Something vital snapped.

---

A Little Earlier

Just as the kitchen timer started to ring, Amy opened the oven and extracted a muffin pan with a mitted hand. The latest batch of mint chocolate chip muffins came out as perfect as the last. Silencing the timer, she carefully popped each confection out of the pan and placed them on a cooking rack.

She smiled. Another couple thousand calories she can secret into Tails via her secret weapon, Cream!

And then, baking high fading, all the other thoughts rushed back in. They scrambled over each other trying to force themselves to the forefront of her mind and all got jammed at the entrance, leaving her with a sudden numbness, but (don’t worry) there was plenty of nebulous anxiety to fill the gap.

What was she doing? Why wasn’t she back at HQ where everyone needed her? Tails was important but there had to be a more important thing she could be doing instead, even though what that might be was escaping her at the moment. But there had to be something, right?

Amy shook her head and went to gather the ingredients to make the glaze. Confectioner’s sugar, vanilla extract, milk (powdered ration milk but it’s fine no one can tell the difference it’s fine!). She wasn’t being selfish. Don’t lie to yourself. She was being the light for Tails. Or helping Cream be his light. Whatever. Light by proxy. It’s fine.

Though Amy felt a little guilty basically using Cream (she volunteered it’s fine!) to spy on Tails for her, it was doing the fox a lot of good. And she’d see how much good shortly, when they all finally got back together as a team. Knuckles and Shadow had been off the grid for over two months now and Tails had become a purely subterranean creature (totally fine) by all accounts.

Rouge would be missing. She hadn’t yet returned from her mission and she hadn’t taken any way to contact her (it’s fine). Amy just had to believe she was okay. If there was someone to count on being fine, it was Rouge. Sage tracking their every movement and utterance only terrified her a little at this point (soooo fine).

A tentative stillness had descended on the Second War in the past few weeks. The territorial lines had largely settled, with Station Square and Central City joined by only a few, fairly self-sustaining towns and settlements against the vast territory already ceded to Sage and the Eggman Empire. Supplies were limited and nothing with a computer chip could be trusted, but cities weren’t being leveled by giant robots. The main antagonist was hunger and the coming winter.

The front door opened, and Amy turned to see Barry entering, their arms laden with stacks of papers. “Welcome home!” Amy lit up at the sight of her crimson lighthouse, her steadfast cornerstone. They weren’t loud or brave or quick with a quip, but just like Sonic, they never gave up in the face of adversity.

They looked surprised, but then their nose twitched. “Something smells awfully nice.” They smile, but it seems a little forced. Amy’s heart clenches, but she forces the unease away. What if she just pretended, just for a few minutes, that everything was normal? She was baking like normal. Barry was coming home from work like normal. Nothing was wrong. Nothing at all.

“I’m making some quick snacks for the boys before I go meet up with them later.” Amy called, combining the ingredients for the sugary glaze.

“Oh, right. The rendezvous is today, isn’t it?” They make a silly face.

“You make it sound so scandalous.” Amy giggled, as she whisks (hydrated powdered) milk into the confectioner’s sugar.

“I just think it’s a funny word. Are you excited to see them after so long? Like, hasn’t Commander Knuckles been gone for months now?”

Amy’s brow twitched, but she lets it pass. Knuckles hasn’t been the Commander in over seven months, but it seems he gets to keep the title in perpetuity. Where did that come from? “Something like that.” She adds the vanilla extract. Knuckles worked hard. People are just showing their appreciation. It’s fine.

“Amy.” The way they say her name made her pause.

She put the whisk down and turned. Barry had deposited their load of papers onto the already buried tabletop and faced her with a nervous look, their ears crumpled. Amy sighed. “You’re about to tell me some bad news, aren’t you?” She hated how many of their conversations lately were about distressing subjects. They were newly lovers still, their conversations should be whispered and full of romantic nothings…

“Y-yeah.” They stammer, grimacing. They hated to give her bad news just as much as she hated receiving it.

Amy moved from the counter and leaned on the doorway of the kitchen. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. “Okay, I’m ready.” She lied.

Barry rubbed the back of their neck. Their head tufts were getting unruly. Amy should offer to give them another haircut. “Well, you remember when I said that Sage was working on something by retooling factories she took over?” Amy’s chest tightens.

“Yes, and you refused to tell what that was about.” She tries to blunt the edge in her voice, but she fails.

Barry looked at the ground. “I didn’t want you to worry.”

“But now it’s time for me to worry?” You know better than to speak to him like that. What’s the matter with you?

Barry looks down but continues. “I wasn’t certain before, but now…well I thought, with you going to meet up with Commander Knuckles and the others, that you should know.” They shrugged. “Though maybe they already know. Rouge had been pressing me to procure respirators for months now.”

Amy blinked. “Hold on, can you tell me what this is about first?”

Barry ran a hand through the long tufts of fur on their head. “I don’t know how to even start, but I guess I’ll just-“ Their expression is pained, uncertain. “She’s making faunaicides.” Once they started, the words tumbled out. “Airborn biocides. Biological weapons. Enough t-to k-kill a lot of p-people.”

Amy stilled, her arms falling limply to her sides, eyes wide and tearing up. “What?” She must not have heard him over the ringing in her ears. It’s fine. This is fine. Totally fine. She was fine, they were fine. Everything was fine.

“It’s not confirmed,” They didn’t meet her gaze. “but based on the people who’ve been disappearing, along with their families, and the movement of goods in some places, which facilities are up and running, and what they are making...Yeah, I guess she could be making some innocuous, but at this point we probably don’t want to give Sage the benefit of the doubt, right?”

Too much. It was too much.

Not fine.

Not fine.

Not remotely fucking fine!

Was this it? Could she drop her arms and let all her burdens smash against the floor? Give up? Finally rest, at least until the world ended. Release the breath she had been holding. Relax into the inevitable defeat?

Her hands fisted at her sides. “Thank you for telling me.” She heard her voice say, flat and emotionless. As if she’d just been told the weather forecast. Too much!

What could be done? Make a list, work up a plan, gather capable people. She was bailing out the ocean with a teacup, but no one else needed to know that. She could sell hope, that’s what she always did. Her throat tightened. It hurt to think. Amy was tired of thinking and hoping and trying to convince others that the dawn would come. That this long cold night was almost over. Holding up the sky.

Amy didn’t want to think. She wanted to feel. Just for a minute, just for a second. Just for a last time.

She moved forward. “Amy?” Barry asked as she approached. She wrapped her arms around him and buried her face into the crook of their neck. “Amy…” Their arms embraced her. “I’m sorry, Amy.”

Amy shushed them. Gently she pushed them backwards into the living room. “What are you-?” She guided Barry onto the couch and climbed into their lap, hitching up her dress to straddle their legs. She looked down into their verdant eyes thoughtlessly. No thinking, only feeling.

Barry’s hands ran along the zipper of her dress and Amy arched her back into their touch. Their eyes searched her face, the confusion fading as their cheeks flushed. Amy leaned down and their lips met in a chaste kiss. They tasted like the terrible breakroom coffee.

They looked up at her with shining, wonderful eyes. Amy bit her lip, willing a wall into being between her and her guilt. “Can I fuck you like it’s the end of the world?” She asked.

Their pupils dilated. “Yes, please.” Barry answered immediately.

Amy grabbed their head and their lips crashed together. She bit at their lip to gain entry and was admitted to caress the heated muscle inside. Heat rippled through her, stoked by months of suppressed yearning. She’d been lost in a desert of worry and stress and had found the oasis. A brief, sensual drink in the face of certain, near immediate destruction.

Hands fumbled with the tiny pull of her dress’ zipper. Amy’s nose crinkled, but she didn’t break the kiss. She released Barry’s head and reached up and over to swat away their hands and pull the zipper down. Once started, Barry was able to complete the decent and Amy’s fitted pink dress peeled away like the petals of a blooming lily.

Suddenly, Barry pushed back. “Wait,” They gasped for air, “don’t you have a meeting?”

“We’ll be fast.” Amy panted and leaned forward to pepper kisses down their chin to collarbone. “I have to wait for the muffins to cool.” Hot muffins would melt the glaze. The hot sticky, sugary white glaze, dripping unimpeded over luscious, plump mounds. Her hands dug into the fur on Barry’s chest.

“Should I set a timer?” Barry asked.

Amy reared back, glaring with an intensity that cowed the quokka, laying his ears flat and making him gulp.

“I’ll shut up now.” They squeaked.

Amy pushed them sideways, and they fumbled to get on their back while she shifted her straddle. Barry ran his hands along her taunt thighs. Slowly, Amy slid her slender arms out of her dress and it crumpled in a ring around her. Her hands pressed against the lighter colored fur near her navel and she slowly drug them up herself.

Barry watched with excited, reverent eyes, as if they were privileged to get to see this (which they were). Without taking their gaze away, they brought their hands to their mouth and pulled their gloves off with their teeth. Amy’s gloved hands continued their way up her torso until they reached her breasts. She felt Barry’s bulge growing under her, their desire throbbing with the beat of their heart.

Taking her breasts into her hands, Amy squeezed and massaged them, pushing them together and lifting them. She closed her eyes and arched her back and released a needful whimper. How long had it been? How long had she denied and denied and denied herself? (Denied Barry, too!) So much selfishness. How could a single hedgehog hold so much selfishness inside.

She felt Barry’s hands on her stomach, felt their dull nails combing through her fur. Amy opened her eyes and looked down on the one she loved. Their brilliant green eyes. So much love, so much desire, so much kindness and eagerness to give and give. So happy just to be here with her. Amy released her breasts and Barry’s hands took them. She gasped with the contact.

Amy fumbled off her weighted bracelets and they fell with a thunk beside the couch. That would leave a mark in the hardwood floors, but no one was going to get their deposit back after the world ended. Next went the gloves and she carelessly tossed them aside as Barry’s ministrations on her sensitive chest sent sparks throughout her.

Shifting her hips, she ground into them, their bulge pressing against her special spot. Barry grunted and moaned in the back of their throat. “Amy…” They whined. Amy grinned and rolled her hips. Her eyes teared up with the sensation.

Were the muffins done cooling? No thoughts, only feelings.

Barry’s tip peeked out of their sheath shyly. Amy leaned down and pressed into a kiss once more as Barry’s hands helped keep her aloft. Her hands trailed along their sheath and teased it to release its cargo. Barry moaned into her, his eyes clenched close.

Yes, yes! She could make someone happy. Was it selfish to narrow her love to just Barry? To close out the rest of the world for just a few minutes? To close her arms only around one person? Holding up the sky was so hard. Surely, she could lay it down for a moment. Just a moment!

Amy took the length in her hands and gave it a few slow pumps. Her lover bucked into her hands, sucking in air through their teeth. “Amy…” They whined. Her scalp tingled. The sound of her name said with such desire! They needed her! This was a problem she could solve!

Angling her hips forward, Amy pressed the tip against her external sweetness and rubbed in slow swirls while she continued the languid strokes with her hands. She leaned into Barry’s supporting hands, relaxing into the flood of sensation radiating through her. “Do you need me?” She looked down at him.

“I need you, Amy.” They gasped, the brightness of their eyes clouded by lowered lids. “I need you so badly.” They rasped through haggard breaths. She sped up, rubbing herself faster with them, chasing that feeling, that itch, and pressed down her hips to increase the force.

“You want me?” Her thighs clenched their hips and rose as Barry tried to buck upwards against her weight.

“I want you so badly, Amy! Please, Amy, please!” She was here to give of herself.

She shifted them to her sacred entrance, already slick with eagerness. Rubing the twitching head in a lazy circle around her moist depth, she ran her nails over Barry’s heaving chest. Their eyes were glued to the tease between her legs. “You’re so beautiful, Amy.” They said, almost reverently.

Amy leaned forward and pressed her forehead to Barry’s. “My sweet Barry tart.” She whispered. Her hand came up and ran along the shell of their ear. She slowly lowered herself over the tip, pre-expression mixing with her slick heat. Barry’s moan was dirty, inebriated and filled Amy with an indescribable joy.

She slid down without resistance, feeling every inch of them. Barry tensed and she felt them twitch inside and she giggled. “You’ve been working soo hard.” She teased. “Hard as any of us. And you never complain.” She slowly lifted, her knees and thighs starting to feel the burn. “Not once.”

“Amy..” Their hands fell away from her chest, fisting at their sides.

“You’re soo good, aren’t you Barry?” Amy began to ride. She clenched on the lift, drawing out a whine. At the crest, the length nearly slipping out, she smirked down at them lasciviously. “Who’s been so good? Who deserves a reward?”

“M-me?” Barry’s hands twitched, unsure where to grab. Amy leaned forward on the drop and pressed back on the lift in a rolling manner, all the while giving her kegels a workout. Like every muscle, she kept her pelvic floor toned. Barry melted into a sputtering mess. Adorable!

“I can’t hear you.” Amy lilted.

“ME!” Barry proclaimed with a throaty exclamation.

Amy picked up the pace, her rolling squats molding them into her, joining them together in a single, throbbing mass of desperate need. “That’s what I thought.”

They writhed on the couch. Occasionally, Amy’s leg fell off the couch and she had to reseat herself, curling her feet under Barry’s raised legs. She panted, she moaned, she keened. Barry’s red-hotness filling her up in ways she hadn’t known were empty.

Still, there were cracks yet to be filled. Deep parts of her yearning to be made solid. Getting closer!

“You’re going to save the world, Amy.” What? “You’re so s-strong and- G-gaia!- Smart. You’ll save everyone.” No, no, no! Amy froze. Was that what he thought she wanted to hear right now? Tears gathered in her eyes and she bit back a sob. No thinking, no thinking! NO future, NO past, only right now. Please, just only now!

“No...” She squeaked.

Barry searched her face desperately, knowledge of their misstep contorting their face. “U-uh, I’m sorry, I meant, uh-“ They swallowed, heat muddled mind clouded. “You’re not going to save the world? You’re such a bad girl?”

Amy frowned. “Barry…” She didn’t know what she wanted to hear, but that wasn’t it.

“Bad lady?”

“Barry.” Somewhere, at the back of her mind, she knew she wasn’t being fair. But that part wasn’t even fifth in line to the forefront of her mind.

“I’m just going to shut up.” Said her gentle, crimson quokka. Her rock, her home base. Always there for her, always waiting for her to return. Kind, soft, patient. All the things she gave and gave and gave, wishing to receive back. They didn’t seem to mind how much she emptied herself out to the world. Barry was always where she left them.

Before guilt could prick her, Amy clenched as tightly as she could, pressing Barry as far as she could into her with every drop of her hips. So close! The itch was so deep inside her, every thrust only brushed it. If only she could get deeper, she could find relief. It was driving her crazy. She was going to go insane. The itch!

“A-amy, I’m- gah!” Barry gripped her thighs. They needed to last! She needed the firmest of lengths to reach the spot, that sweet, neglected spot deep, deep inside. She grasped their shoulders and pulled them up into an embrace. She felt the change in position inside her and released throaty gasp. There it is.

She crested the climb, and a shiver ran through her. With a satisfied sigh, she fell over the edge. There was no turning back now.

Amy’s climax rushed up her spine and burst like a cacophony of fireworks in her mind, making her vision white and crackling over her scalp in a wave of goosebumps. She leaned back, gaining further pressure and soliciting a sharp intake of breath from her quokka. The next wave hit her, and she lost her grip, both of them falling forward. Amy bucked uncontrollably, her insides twitching rhythmically.

“Amy!” Barry gasped as her contractions gripped him in rolling waves. “Ghnnn-!” They came amid her quaking and the pair undulated together, milking each other through the shocks. Amy pursued every hint of a peak, pressing and gripping, stretching it out for as long as she could, but eventually she lost her grip on the orgasm, and it slipped away into the past. She was left panting in the present.

They laid quietly, slowly cooling off, awash in the fading glow. Amy nuzzled against Barry’s chest and felt the sweat on her cheek, a pleasurable clarity filtering through her. She felt tempered. Like a newly forged sword after a quench. The world was still on fire. Her friends still needed her. She still didn’t have all the answers.

But at least she’d purged some of the cloying darkness, making room for rekindled light inside her.

“I love you.” She said quietly.

“I love you, too.” Barry answered, drowsily.

Amy lifted and reached over to the side table for some tissues. She unseated herself from Barry’s shrunken length, allowing it to disappear into them. Quickly, to prevent leakage, she pressed the tissues against herself and stood on twitching, sore legs. Her dress, forgotten, fell to the floor around her legs.

Holding the tissues in place, she hobbled towards the bathroom. She glanced at the wall clock.

“Oh, shit! I’m going to be late!”

Waiter, thank you for raising my stakes earlier. I’d now like an order of the tonal whiplash, please.

Oh, did you think I’d tease you and not follow through? You should know by now that everything is foreshadowing.

**

Metal has evened things out in the arms department -> Ch 10, Ch 16

I say it again, the hardest part of writing this fic is not misgendering Barry the Quokka.

Got heavy call backs to Ch 4 and Ch 10 here folks. Is it a callback if it’s literally copy/paste?