Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The Post-Emerald Period — as it was becoming known in the Wachowski household — was a time of adjustment for everyone. Tom and Maddie had only just been getting used to having one superpowered alien kid, and then he returned from a major fight with two more superpowered aliens in tow, and what were they supposed to do but take them in as well? And now they had two more superpowered aliens living in their attic, and suddenly they were parents of three.

Maddie knew that this was a struggle for all of them to get used to. She was trying to be patient. But it got frustrating.

They were kids, all three of them, sharing a room until they could figure out how to either split it into three smaller ones or convert the garage into a livable space. And, as brothers do, they argued. Sonic moved one of Tails’ gadgets that was still being worked on and ruined his workflow, Knuckles accidentally knocked something off a shelf as he got up in the early morning while Sonic was trying to sleep, Tails stayed up late tinkering until the noise awoke Knuckles, tense and agitated, and suddenly any resemblance of peace in the household was a distant memory.

Maddie had grown up with her sister and Tom had his own brothers. Both knew sibling rivalry and tried their best to maintain peace between their sons. Largely, though, it had to be resolved between the brothers. They knew that, too. Most of them time they were able to work it out amongst themselves. As time went on, they did seem to understand and work with each other better.

But Maddie had noticed another issue.

As soon as she or Tom walked into a room, Knuckles would grow tense and quiet.  If Maddie tried to talk to him, he’d just mumble something in response and leave the room. There was something pinched about his mouth when he did, some line about his eyes that worried her. Tom had a bit more success, sometimes, but not much. He could maybe get two sentences from the echidna before he made his escape.

“Do you think he just, like. . . doesn’t like women or something?” she’d whispered to Tom one night. “I mean, I don’t know how echidna culture was — is.”

Tom couldn’t answer, of course, and they both agreed not to ask the others. This was Knuckles’ problem.

But Tails, too, had his issues. When they talked to him, the little fox stiffened up and smiled anxiously and agreed to anything they said with fidgety hands. Maddie had seen him visibly relax when she turned away, when he thought she wasn’t looking, and that concerned her. Was he afraid of them? Did they do something that seemed threatening to him? It was the last thing either of them wanted, of course, but the one time Tom had ventured to broach the topic, Tails’ eyes had started flickering about and his tails lashing so fretfully that he immediately backtracked and left him alone for the rest of the day.

Maddie sighed and pinched her brow as she lay in bed.

Parenting was hard.

It was nearly 2 am, and she couldn’t sleep. Tom was snoring next to her, she could faintly hear Sonic and Knuckles snoring upstairs, and there was no sound of whirring machinery so she assumed Tails was also asleep, but that same peace eluded her. She didn’t know what to do. She had dreamed for so long of having a big family, like she’d grown up with, but now that she finally had it it seemed like half of it either hated her or feared her.

What was she doing wrong?

As she rubbed her tired eyes, another noise caught her attention. Maddie tensed and sat up, straining to listen. Yes, again, that thump, followed by the sound of a slow, heavy gait. Knuckles was awake, and coming downstairs. She listened for a bit longer, following his steps down the stairs and into the kitchen, where she saw a light flick on. When she heard the tap running, she quietly stood and ventured out after him.

She found Knuckles just as he was setting the electric kettle back on its plug. He fumbled for a moment, his huge paws unused to finer machinery, but he managed to flip the switch down. As the kettle started humming, he stepped back and exhaled heavily. He pinched his brow.

Maddie leaned against the doorway. “Hey, Knu—”

He jumped and whirled around, eyes wide, one fist pulled back in a threatening stance.

“Hey!” she yelped, holding up her hands as she stepped back. “It’s me, bud, relax!”

“Maddie!” Knuckles blinked at her for a moment before remembering to drop his hand. His brow lowered over his eyes. “Do not sneak up on me like that!” he huffed. “Never take an echidna warrior by surprise. I almost punched you into the following week.”

Maddie blinked in surprise. This was doubtlessly the most he’d spoken to her in the days since moving in. She couldn’t help a small smile, though. “Did Sonic teach you that saying?”

“He did.” Knuckles’ brow furrowed. “Did I use it correctly?”

“Perfectly.”

He grunted with satisfaction.

“I didn’t mean to startle you,” she added. “I’m sorry.”

He shrugged and turned back to the kettle. It was rattling now as the water began to boil, but the light still hadn’t switched off.

Maddie moved slowly, so as not to startle him again, when she rounded the table to stand next to him. “You okay?” He just grunted again. “What’re you doing up so late?”

He shrugged. “Dreams,” he muttered. “I thought perhaps that sleeping tea that you make would help.”

Maddie smiled. “That’s a great idea,” she agreed. Before he could protest, she retrieved both the box from the cabinet and a teapot from the shelf. “I could use some, too. We’ll make a pot and split it.”

Knuckles opened his mouth as though to protest, but then the kettle finished its work and he just turned back to it with a scowl. Maddie set the teabags in the pot and let him pour the water in. He seemed unbothered by the heat. He went to pour a mug as soon as Maddie placed the lid on, but she stopped him.

“It needs to steep, honey. Six minutes, that’s what it says on the box.”

He looked dismayed at the notion, but when Maddie sat at the table to wait, he huffed again and crossed his arms, leaning against the counter. Maddie tugged at a loose thread in her pajamas, Knuckles glared stoically out the window.

Maddie took a deep breath. “Do you want to talk about your dream?”

“No.” There wasn’t even a beat between her question and his response. He hesitated, hands tightening on his arms, before he spoke again. “All warriors get them,” he continued in a tone that almost sounded apologetic. “They are reminders of all the glories and burdens that comes with being a warrior, to remind us of our duty.” He paused and dropped his gaze to his shoes. “My duty,” he corrected quietly.

Maddie inhaled deeply. “O. . .kay. Alright.” It did not sound remotely okay, but she had no idea how to address trauma nightmares. She still wasn’t entirely sure what his trauma was, to be honest. He hadn’t told her and Sonic and Tails said it was his story to tell. All she knew was that he had been alone for a long, long time and once blamed Sonic for that. It felt like she didn’t know anything. It was 2 am and she was too tired to even begin breaking down that sentiment right now. And anyways, at this point she was still surprised that Knuckles was even speaking to her. She almost didn’t want to admit that the tea was finished, to keep this momentum going, but she did. She poured a mug for each of them. As soon as she passed Knuckles his, he nodded to her and left the kitchen.

Disappointed, Maddie leaned back against the counter, holding the mug to her chest. It was a cold night, and the tea was warm, and she was exhausted and had just come through another conversation with Knuckles with nothing to show for it.

She heard the front door open and close. Maddie steeled herself and followed him once more.

She slowly opened the door and shuddered at the gust of cold air that pushed its way inside, but she stepped out. Knuckles sat on the front steps, huge paws dwarfing the mug that he held in his lap, his eyes turned up towards the stars. His head tilted when she opened the door, but she still cleared her throat to alert him to her presence.

“Mind if I join you?” Maddie asked, forcing a lightness to her tone.

Knuckles looked away, but didn’t refuse, so she crossed the porch and sat down next to him on the steps.

“Nice night.”

He grunted.

Maddie took a sip of her tea — too hot, it burned her tongue — and sighed. “Look, Knuckles,” she said heavily, “I can tell you’re uncomfortable around me for some reason.”

He finally turned to her in surprise.

“I don’t know exactly what’s going on,” she continued, “but I’d like to, I just —” She shrugged helplessly. “Have I done something to upset you, or offend you, or something? Because if I did, I didn’t mean to, and I want to know what it was so I can avoid doing it again, y’know?”

Knuckles looked away stiffly. He turned the mug in his paws one way and the other. His brow was pinched. He was chewing on his lip with sharp teeth.

“We’re a family now,” Maddie added softly. He flinched a little at that. She broke off, abandoning her I want to help you, we’re in this together points. She hadn’t expected him to physically recoil like that. She didn’t want to push it. So she just turned to face ahead again and let the silence do its work.

Finally, Knuckles spoke.

“It is nothing you have done,” he said heavily. “You have committed no act of offence.”

That made Maddie feel a little better, but she was still unsatisfied. “But there is something?”

“It’s —” He stuttered for a moment. “When I was —” His paws tapped at his mug. “My tribe, when they —” His voice broke off and he looked away with a frustrated sigh. A hint of a growl tinged it, deep in his chest. “Before all this, there was —” He pressed his lips together and stared at the trees across the driveway as though they had insulted him. Maddie followed his gaze, some attempt to take the pressure off him.

He leaned back against the steps and looked once more at the stars. His shoulders rose and fell with a great heave of a sigh, mournful and helpless.

“I had a sister,” he murmured.

Maddie’s jaw dropped as she turned back to him. “What?”

He shook his head. “I learned everything from her,” he said softly. “She would have liked you.” He chuckled weakly. “You would not have liked her, but she would have liked you.”

“Wha— why wouldn’t I like her?”

“She was more aggressive than me. Stronger, braver, louder. She was more headstrong than Sonic, as clever as Tails. She took care of me and never let anyone tell her what to do.” Knuckles seemed to crumble. His face fell and he leaned forward, curling around the tea that grew rapidly colder in his paws. “You remind me of her,” he mumbled. “Far too much.”

Maddie smiled sadly. “I think I would’ve liked her.”

He shrugged. “I thought that after I found the Emerald, I would stop missing them,” he murmured. “Ever since I lost my tribe, I’ve seen them out the corner of my eye, heard them when it’s quiet. They guided my steps and corrected my techniques and told me to keep moving when it felt hopeless.” He shook his head. “But they are still everywhere here. They are still stuck in my head, in my dreams, looking just as I did when I buried them.”

Maddie’s eyes widened. “You buried them?” she echoed in horror.

“There was nobody else,” Knuckles said pragmatically. “When they didn’t return, I followed, and I found them, and I buried them. I dug grave after grave after grave for days with no rest, I recited the funeral rites so many times that for a time after it was all I could say, and it still repeats in the back of my mind over and over.” He seemed unaware of the words spilling from his lips now, like he’d forgotten that Maddie was even there next to him. “I moved the ground around them and over them just like I was supposed to so they would know rest and leave in peace but —” He screwed his eyes shut and shook his head, more aggressively, as though he were trying to clear something from it. “But they still won’t rest.”

“Oh, Knuckles. . .” Maddie reached out a hand and rested it on his back. To her utter shock, he shifted closer and leaned against her side. His eyes were misty and his chin was trembling. She wrapped an arm around him and rested her head on his.

How many were there in his tribe? How many bodies had he had to bury, all alone as a little kid? 20? 50? How did he find them? Were they scattered after some horrific fight, or piled together? Did he have to hunt through the battlefield for each one? Did he have to leave after he found them and return with shovels or picks, or did he go after them knowing what he would find, with the tools over his shoulder? Did he count them, strike through their names on some list in his head as he found one after the other? Did he keep some hope that someone was alive until all were accounted for under the ground? Did he scour through the bodies until he found his sister or his parents? How long was he stuck with those funeral rites on his tongue, the only thing he could say, his entire world reduced down to death and despair?

The whole situation made Maddie feel sick. He was just a child. That much she knew. He was eight when he was left alone, Sonic had told her that much. I was six, so he was probably eight-ish.

A child.

He still was.

“It is my own fault.” His voice was a low rumble against her side. “You and the donut man have done no wrong to me. I must simply —” He broke off, struggling with his thought. “Do — do something to fix this. It is my own head that is the problem.”

“No,” Maddie said firmly, rubbing his back. “No, honey, this isn’t your fault.”

“I must be doing something wrong,” Knuckles reasoned. “Otherwise I would feel peace, wouldn’t I?”

Maddie sighed. “You want to know what I think?” she murmured. She felt him nod. “I think you’re a kid who went through something that nobody should have to go through,” she said quietly. “And I think that you have spent so long alone and sad and angry and scared, that you haven’t really had time to process everything that’s happened to you, and this is your first time in a really safe place in a long time. You’re not used to not fighting, and now it’s all just hitting you at once. So you’re in pain and struggling, and you’re blaming yourself for it. But that’s not your fault, baby.”

Knuckles shrugged helplessly. “Who else is there to blame?”

Maddie squeezed his shoulder. “Maybe nobody,” she suggested. “Maybe this is just what’s happening right now. Maybe it’s nobody’s fault.”

Knuckles tapped at his mug. “If I do this,” he murmured, “process, as you say — will that help?”

She nodded. “I think so, yeah.”

“How do I do this?”

“I. . .” She sighed. “I’m not sure. But I’ll help you, okay? We all will. Anytime you want to talk or you’re feeling stressed out or sad or if you have nightmares and just don’t want to be alone. All of us are here for you.”

After a moment, he nodded slowly. “That is very generous of you,” he mumbled.

Maddie smiled. “That’s just what family does.” It slipped through just before she remembered how he’d flinched the last time she said it. But this time, he didn’t react. He seemed calm now. For maybe the first time since she’d met him, she saw his shoulders relax. He rested his head against her and closed his eyes.

Maddie rested her cheek against her son’s head. “You know you don’t have to leave your tribe behind to join ours,” she added softly. “They’ll be with you, no matter what. And that’s okay.”

He just shrugged again. That idea, it seemed, would take some getting used to. But that was okay. They sat with the idea together, sitting in the cold below to stars. Together.

“Your sister,” Maddie murmured. “What was her name?”

Knuckles sighed. He was silent for a moment, considering the question, the asker, and the answer. Maddie knew it was a big ask. She almost didn’t expect to get a response.

But she did.

“Skiff,” he whispered.

“Skiff.” She couldn’t think of anything else to say. It felt monumental just that he had trusted her with such a memory.

After a moment longer, Knuckles pulled away and cleared his throat. “I am going back to bed,” he announced, pushing himself to his feet. “Thank you for your advice, and your company.”

Maddie smiled at him as he returned to the door. “Hey.”

He turned back inquisitively.

“I love you.”

Knuckles averted his gaze. Maddie felt her disappointment, her regret. She’d pushed too far, too fast, and now he was going to pull away again. Especially after she’d asked for the name of his late sister. She needed to be patient, slow down. Maybe he wasn’t ready for that quite yet. Maybe she’d just scared him.

But then, he lifted one paw — clumsy, heavy, huge — and tapped his fist against his chest, twice, thump-thump like a heartbeat. Maddie relaxed. She knew it meant the same thing.

Knuckles returned inside. Maddie stayed on the porch. She sipped her cold tea and looked at the stars and hoped that he was sleeping peacefully.

Maddie pushed her way through the door the next day and dropped her tote bag on the table.

“Hey!” Tom looked up from his coffee. “Where’d you go?”

“Library,” she groaned, slumping into the chair across from him. He slid her a cup and she accepted gratefully.

“Famously exhausting,” he grinned.

“I hardly slept last night,” she sighed, rubbing her brow. “Went to the library as soon as it opened and hunted for these books and then the lady went Oh you owe twenty-six dollars in late fees for a book you borrowed in 2009 and I just — ugh.” She shook her head and pushed the tote bag away. “But it was successful,” she added proudly. “That’s the important thing.”

“What was so important that you went to the library for the first time in six years for it?”

Maddie pushed the bag over, and her prize spilled out. How to Help Your Grieving Child, Teens and Grief, The Light in the Tunnel: How to Help Children Process Trauma, and, at the very bottom, Finding Family: The Unavoidable Scars of Adoption and How to Soften the Struggle.

Tom’s eyes widened as he stared at the pile. “Oh.”

“Yep.” Maddie picked up a book at random and dropped it in front of him. “Our kids are traumatized. Start reading.”

Chapter Text

Knuckles improved. Gradually.

He seemed much less cagey around Maddie and Tom in the weeks following the night on the porch. He spoke a bit of his tribe, some of their traditions and history, though he never told personal stories or mentioned any other names. Even Skiff, his older sister, he never made any mention or allusion to. He was still defensive, still seemed to believe that there was a battle lurking around every corner and that strangers were all just enemies who hadn’t attacked yet. It was hard, trying to convince him that life wasn’t a war to be won. But they were making progress.

He still trained. But he rested, too. He indulged in more of the games that Sonic came up with and listened to Tails chatter as he worked on the gadgets and ate popcorn during movie nights.

He still tensed when somebody he didn’t know looked at him. He was still inclined to fight before shaking hands. But he let his guard down long enough to smile at a baby who was staring at him in the vet’s waiting room, when he brought Maddie the lunch she forgot. When an old lady at the grocery store asked if ‘a strong young man’ would help her lift a heavy box of oranges into her cart, he agreed with gusto.

He still tried to ‘train’ Ozzie for war. But Maddie was realizing that might just be how he played with dogs.

And he still had nightmares. Maddie didn’t think there was anything she could really do to help with that.

Maddie secretly hoped that this new confidence would wear off on Tails. But, that proved too much to ask. It hurt, honestly. Around his brothers, the fox would chatter endlessly, bicker, ask questions, argue, and laugh. She heard it all through the walls. But as soon as she or Tom walked in, it was silence. He would clam up and nod and agree with whatever she said in a small voice.

That was her son. She wanted to know him.

Maybe it was time to get some insider info.

“Knuckles?”

“Yes, Maddie?”

Maddie sat down on opposite end of the couch. Knuckles was sprawled back on the pillows, munching on a bowl of grapes and holding a comic book that Sonic had been begging him to read because it’s so good I swear and I need to talk to someone about it I’m going insane I’m begging you. It was flipped to halfway open on his lap, but Knuckles seemed more preoccupied with playing a lazy game of tug-of-war with Ozzie, holding the toy in one hand as the dog pulled his arm back and forth.

Maddie leaned back and glanced out the window to make sure Tails and Sonic were still outside, chasing a frisbee that was being tossed around at concerning speeds. She cleared her throat. “Ever since we had our chat about your tribe, I feel like we’ve been understanding each other a bit better,” she ventured.

“Indeed!” Knuckles grinned at her. “I feel I am finally finding my place within the Wachowski tribe!” His face fell solemn again and he turned back to Ozzie. “Though, I know I still have much to improve.”

Maddie smiled gently and shook her head, even as she remembered his stunt attacking the repair men at the house last week. “It’s alright, bud, we’re working together on it.”

He gave her a shy smile. “I have appreciated all your assistance as I learn the rules of this world,” he said.

“I’m glad to hear that, buddy. You’re very welcome.” Maddie tried to pick her words carefully as the lines of her latest book on parenting traumatized kids spun in her head. “So, since you’re doing so much better now, I was wondering if you could help me with something?”

Knuckles nodded and sat up. Ozzie continued hauling at the toy in his paw. “I will do anything within my power to assist you,” he said solemnly.

“Great, thanks.” She glanced out the window again and cleared her throat. “I noticed Tails is still a little nervous around us, kinda like you were.”

“As have I.”

“Do you happen to know why?”

Knuckles pursed his lips and sat back again with a frown. “The Little Fox does not speak much of his life on our homeworld,” he said apologetically. “Not even to me or to the hedgehog. I know that he was scorned for his second tail, but beyond that, he will not tell us.”

Maddie sat back, disappointed. “So you don’t know why he’s so cagey around Tom and I?”

Knuckles met her gaze gravely. “I know those are not the actions of one who had anything good behind them,” he said.

Maddie’s brow furrowed. She nodded slowly. “Yeah. That’s true.”

“But I do know that he likes it here!” Knuckles added earnestly. “He is happy to be here, even if he is strangely unsettled by you and the donut man.”

“Oh yeah?” Maddie smiled hopefully. “How d’you know that?”

“Sonic asked once if he was homesick, and he laughed at the idea.”

 She inhaled deeply. Also concerning. “Alright. Nice. Glad he’s happier here, at least.” She looked out the window again. The boys were heading back inside, laughing and pushing each other playfully. She stood and brushed off the dog hair on her jeans. “Anyways,” she finished as the door opened, “I’m going to the store. Do we need anything?”

“Grapes.”

“Noted.” She raised her voice. “Sonic? Tails? Anything from the store?”

Sonic poked his head into the living room. “I’m out of shampoo!”

Tails timidly followed, hiding behind the hedgehog as he spoke. “Um, one of the lights in our bedroom went out,” he said in a soft voice. “So, um, if we could maybe get a lightbulb? I’ll install it myself, we just need a new one. If that’s okay, Mrs. Wachowski.”

“It’s just Maddie, honey, really.”

Tails shrank back. “Oh, um, I’m sorry, I didn’t —”

“It’s fine!” Maddie interrupted brightly, forcing a smile. “Okay, grapes, shampoo, lightbulbs. Anything else?”

“Don’t think so,” Sonic yawned, already wandering to the kitchen.

“Alright. Love you guys.”

“Love you, Mom!”

Tails made no response, but Maddie knew he wouldn’t. She looked back at Knuckles and tapped her fist twice against her chest, thump-thump like a heartbeat, which she had picked up after their night on the porch. Knuckles beamed at her and returned the gesture. Every time she did it, he looked like he was seeing the sun rise for the first time. She wanted to learn more about his home, his culture, if it would keep that look on his face. It made all the struggle worth it.

Now, to get the same look from Tails.

She went to get the list from the kitchen just as Knuckles began laughing loudly.

“My victory is again assured!” he crowed. “Little Fox, the hound has invented the most amusing game of pulling! Come, test your strength against him!”

She heard Tails giggling a moment later, almost drowned out by the howls of laughter from the other two. Her heart ached that he seemed to only do that when she wasn’t around.

Tom set the lettuce in the fridge. “Is that the last of it?”

“Just this,” Maddie said, pulling a rotisserie chicken out of a bag and setting it on the counter. “We’ll probably eat in a couple hours, though, so we can just leave it here for now. Reheat it if we need to.”

“Oooo,” Tom raised his eyebrows. “That’s a treat.”

“Yeah, I didn’t feel like cooking and had a feeling you didn’t either, so it’s this and a couple bag salads tonight.”

“Classic. A feast.”

She frowned at the chicken. It suddenly looked very scrawny. It had always been enough for her and Tom, even a couple scraps for Ozzie, but now. . .

“This’ll be enough for us and three teenage boys, right?”

“Two teenage boys,” Tom corrected. “One child. And. . . maybe?”

Maddie sighed and tossed the empty bag into the trash can. “Well, I’m not going back out. That Costco is a nightmare.”

“True.”

“Where are the boys?”

“Knuckles is training somewhere in the woods, Sonic is running laps around Oregon, and Tails is working on some machine upstairs.”

She exhaled heavily in relief. “Guess we’ve finally got some me time, huh?”

Tom snorted. “Yeah, maybe thirty minutes.”

“Hey, I’ll take it.”

She ended up lounging on the porch with her book, enjoying the breeze and the relative quiet broken up only the whirring or thunk of hammers from the attic, while Tom went to continue saving the garden.

The noise paused in the attic. Maddie always wondered just what it was that Tails did up there, but he got predictably shy and mumbly about it whenever she asked.

“Um, Mrs. Wachowski?”

Maddie looked up and smiled. “Maddie, sweetie.”

“Sorry.” Tails was clinging to the doorframe as though someone might try to rip him away, his tails tucked against his side. Maddie hadn’t even heard the door open. The kid was so quiet. “Um, do you think I could please get myself a snack from the kitchen, Mrs— er, Miss Maddie? Ma’am?”

Maddie bit back a sigh at the jumbled names again and nodded. “Yeah, bud. We’ve told you, all snack are up for grabs. You don’t need to ask permission, just go on and grab something. No biggie.”

“Okay.” Tails slipped back inside. “Thank you. Sorry.”

“What for?” But the door was already shut. Maddie sighed and rested her head back against the back of the porch swing. She needed to be patient. She knew that. She believed it. She understood it. But, God, sometimes it really was frustrating.

She tried to read for a few minutes more, but she was restless, suddenly. Her book was less riveting than she’d hoped, and the house was too quiet without its loudest occupants tromping around. As tired as she would sometimes get with her boys, the house felt eerily empty without them. She needed to move.

“Tom!” she called over the railing. “I’m going to go make up the salad.”

“Sounds good!” His voice drifted from the back of the house. “Thanks, honey!”

Maddie stood for a moment more, overlooking the yard and waiting to see if either Sonic or Knuckles would return — if only so her entry to the kitchen would be less stressful for Tails — but there was no sign of them. Anyways, this was probably enough time for the fox to grab a box of Cheez-Its and make his escape back upstairs, as he tended to do. She probably wouldn’t even see him again until dinnertime.

Maddie dropped her book on the counter as she walked in. It landed with a heavy thunk. It really was too long for what it was trying to do. The thought distracted her for a moment, so she didn’t hear the startled gasp or see the empty chicken container until she was reaching for the fridge door.

Maddie’s eyes finally landed on the mess. She gasped, eyes widening as they follower the trail from the overturned plastic container to the lid cast aside to the trail of grease on the floor.

“Ozzie!” she shouted, turning instinctively to the doorway of the kitchen. He barked in response to his name — distantly, out the open window — and she remembered that he’d been outside with Tom the whole time.

She paused.

Which only left. . .

Slowly, she ventured around the kitchen island. Her suspicions were confirmed. Huddled against the cabinet, with a half-eaten chicken in his paws and sharp, sharp teeth, was Tails. Tails, who was looking at her with wide, mortified eyes. Who was covered with grease and spices. And who, Maddie seemingly just remembered, was indeed a fox. A carnivore.

Tails’ eyes welled with tears. “I’m sorry. . .!” he wailed.

Maddie couldn’t fight a laugh. “Oh, my God, Tails!”

He hiccuped. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to, I just smelled it and I got so so hungry and I don’t know what happened I just —”

“It’s okay!” Maddie grabbed a washcloth from the sink and ran it under the tap, quickly wringing it out. She struggled to contain her laughter, although she indulged a bit when she turned away. She understood now why her mother had laughed so hard when Maddie had been caught with her hand in the sugar bag at age four. She’d thought she was in huge trouble, all while her mother could only laugh. And now she got why. It really was funny.

“It’s alright, buddy, I just forget —”

“I didn’t mean to, I swear I didn’t, it won’t happen again, I promise!”

“I believe you!” Maddie finally schooled her expression. She grabbed the discarded plastic dish, returned to Tails, and crouched in front of him. “Here, set that in here.” Tails placed the rest of the chicken in the dish and sat back, miserable. “I just forget that you’re really a fox sometimes, aren’t you? Guess we need to get you some real meat more often.” She reached for one of his messy paws to wipe it off. But at the movement, Tails flinched and curled back against the cabinets. Ears flattened, tails tucked against his side, tears in his eyes.

Maddie paused.

He was shaking.

“Please don’t kick me out,” he whimpered.

Maddie sat back. “Kick you out?” she echoed. “We’re not kicking you out! Who’s kicking you out?”

Tails blinked at her, his eyes still misty with tears. “You’re. . . you’re not?”

“No!” She shook her head in dismay. The pieces began settling together in her head. “Is this. . . is this why you’ve been so nervous around Tom and I? You think we’re gonna kick you out?”

Tails shrugged. He’d dropped his gaze to the cloth in her hand now, his brow furrowed. A couple tears trickled down his cheeks, but he didn’t seem to notice them. Maddie tentatively reached out her hand. He tensed.

“I’m not gonna hurt you,” she said softly. “Just want to clean you up a little, alright?”

Slowly, hesitantly, Tails extended his own paw. Maddie took it and wiped it gently with the washcloth, careful not to move too suddenly or aggressively. He watched her every movement with the air of a cat encountering a dog for the first time, watchful and ready to bolt.

“This is your home, Tails,” Maddie told him quietly. “You can stay here as long as you want to. If you do want to leave eventually, then you’re free to, but that’ll be your decision. As far as Tom and I are concerned, you’re here for good, alright?” She looked up to see Tails watching her suspiciously. She smiled and set his hand back in his lap. “And we’re thrilled about that,” she assured him softly. “You make the whole house so much brighter.”

His eyes softened a little into something she didn’t fully recognize. Something hesitant and distant and sad. He looked back at the cloth. “I can take care of myself,” he mumbled.

“Yeah, but you don’t have to now.”

After a moment, he offered his other hand. They were quiet for a long while before he spoke again.

“I just. . . don’t want to mess this up,” Tails murmured. “I don’t really know how to do this.”

Maddie frowned. “Do what?”

“How to have, like, friends, and. . . and parents.”

Her brow furrowed. “You didn’t have parents?” She’d assumed that he’d known his family at some point or another and lost them, like Sonic and Knuckles had. She’d assumed that they’d been distant or even cruel, but she’d never imagined that he just. . . never knew them.

Tails shrugged.

The door swung open. “Guess who just ran like a million miles in thirty minutes and —”

“Sonic!” Maddie called, turning towards him with a taut smile. “Would you go help Tom in the garden?”

Sonic shrugged blithely. “He said he’s pretty much done.”

“Well, then, can you wait outside for a few minutes?”

“Why are you guys on the floor?”

“Outside, please!”

He held up his hands in surrender and swerved back outside. He stole one more glance through the door before it shut, though. His concern was written on his face.

Maddie shifted into a more comfortable position and turned back to Tails. “You never knew your parents?”

Tails shook his head. His hands were fidgeting in his lap again. “I don’t really know what happened to them,” he mumbled. “I thought they must be someone in my village, but then people told me a bunch of different stuff.”

“Like what?”

“I dunno, some said that they dumped me and ditched town after seeing what I was, some said that they weren’t even from that village, just wanted to dump me somewhere else — some of the kids said they took one look at me and died from shame, so. . .” He shrugged again. “So, no, I didn’t know them. Not sure I want to.”

“No.” Maddie inhaled deeply. Her heart was thrashing against her ribs, demanding justice for this frightened little kid in front of her, who had been alone and ashamed of himself for so long that he was convinced this home he’d finally gotten would be snatched away at his first mistake. No wonder he was so anxious to please them, so intent on not offending them. As far as he knew, that was the only thing keeping him housed and fed. “No, I can’t imagine you would want to.” She rubbed her brow. “So, how did you—?”

She heard Sonic first, yelling, “Mom just told me to leave!” before the door swung open for a second time and Knuckles strode into the kitchen. Just as he opened his mouth to speak, Maddie cut him off.

“Knuckles, baby, can you go wait with your brother?”

Knuckles fixed her with a blankly confused look. He pointed to Tails without breaking eye contact. Tails giggled haltingly and wiped his eyes.

“Other brother,” Maddie corrected. “The one outside.”

“Why?”

“Now, please.”

He rolled his eyes, but turned and left.

Maddie once again schooled her emotions and turned back to Tails. He was fidgeting with his tails now, twisting them back and forth in his paws, but he looked a little more relaxed at just the thought of his brothers waiting outside.

“Were you alone for all that time, then?”

“Some people from the village gave me food for a bit,” Tails said. “When I was a baby. Guess they felt a little bad about letting a kit starve.” He plucked at his fur.

“Don’t do that, honey, it’s not good for you.”

“Sorry.”

“It’s fine.”

He stopped. “But foxes are really independent,” he added, a hint of pride in his voice. “I got big enough to get food for myself after a few weeks, and when that happened, everyone just kinda. . .” He dropped his gaze. “Just kinda stopped.”

Well, that explained why he dove for the chicken. The poor kid had probably learned to grab any available food when he got the chance.

He started picking again. “Everyone but the other kids. They loved rubbing it in. The people who ignored me were better than the ones who messed with me.”

Maddie’s brow furrowed. She was so afraid to ask exactly what they did to him. She hated to imagine him afraid and alone, so young and so scared. Other faceless foxes took form, cruel things that had hunted and hurt him. She felt as much anger at those nameless monsters as she did pain for her son. “Oh, Tails. . .”

His lips quivered. “I’ve never had it this good before,” he whispered hoarsely. “I just don’t want to mess it up. I don’t. . . I don’t want to lose this.”

Maddie reached forward, hesitated, then gently brushed a tear from his face. “You won’t,” she said with a soft smile. Tails looked up at her, brow furrowed, He looked confused, scared — scared to believe her. To trust her. “I know you don’t quite believe me yet,” she added, “but that’s okay. I’m saying it anyways, because it’s true. You’re here for life now, alright? You’re family. One measly chicken isn’t going to change that.”

He giggled again. He wiped the tears from his eyes.

Maddie glanced at the remains of the chicken. He was a growing boy, and he was hungry. Clearly hungrier than he’d been letting on if he’d been overrun with the urge to devour a whole chicken like that.

“Y’know,” she said, giving him a conspiratorial smile, “if you want to finish that, I won’t tell anybody.”

Tails eyed the chicken, then her. His eyes glinted with hunger. “Promise it’s okay?”

“Promise.” She pressed a finger to her lips and winked. “Our little secret.”

Tails bared his sharp teeth in a grin and picked up the chicken again. He tore into it with his fangs, rending meat until each bone was clean, ripping it apart and devouring it.

Maddie had to admit, it looked like an extremely satisfying way to eat a rotisserie chicken.

“So, what have you been working on upstairs?”

Tails swallowed. “A lockbox for the Master Emerald,” he explained before diving into the chicken again. “Well, I mean, lockbox is a little simplistic, but it’ll be undetectable and unopenable for anyone but us, and I might even rig it to explode if anyone else tries to get inside it! But I’m not sure if it would hurt the Emerald or set it off. Maybe I should finish that stabilizer field first, huh? But then it’s like, if someone comes for it and it’s not protected, even if it’s stable, that’s really bad! So it comes down to is it more important that it’s safe to handle or safe from anyone who’d try to handle it, y’know?”

Maddie stuttered. She had never heard so much from him at once before. He licked his whiskers and looked at her expectantly.

“Well. . .” She hummed thoughtfully. “I think while it lives in the house, I’d feel more comfortable with a stabilizer on it.”

“Oh, yeah, that’s a good point.” He set the cleaned chicken carcass in the dish and sighed contentedly.

“Can I clean up your face?”

He reached for the washcloth. “I’ll do it.”

She let him. This would take time. One chat wouldn’t fix everything. But she was patient. In that moment, she didn’t know if Tails would ever grow to really trust her. But he would. In time he’d learn to trust her, to trust Tom, to trust the love that they so freely offered him.

Tails finished wiping off his face and hands and, when Maddie offered, he handed her the washcloth. “Thanks. . . Maddie.”

Maddie froze, halfway to putting the cloth in the sink. She smiled at him and hoped he couldn’t see the tears brimming in her eyes. “You’re very welcome, Tails.”

It would take time. But it was a step the right way.

Tails helped her clean up the ruined chicken and wiped off the floor with her and apologized a few dozen more times but stopped when she effortlessly reassured every single one. And he was by her side when they strode out to the porch to find Sonic and Knuckles in the porch swing, trying to see how high they could go without pushing off the ground, and Tom leaning on the railing.

Tom raised an eyebrow. Maddie smiled proudly back.

“Well, who wants pizza?”

As everyone was herded back inside, Knuckles intercepted Maddie’s route to the door. His eyes were blazing, his shoulders tense.

“Why was the Little Fox crying?” he asked in a low voice. “Has someone injured him?”

Maddie shook her head and squeezed his shoulder. “We were just having a little talk,” she assured him. “Things got a little emotional.”

Knuckles relaxed slightly. “A talk such as we had?”

“Exactly like that.”

The echidna nodded, apparently satisfied. “Is there pizza with grapes on it?”

“No.”

“Can we ask for some?”

“Absolutely not, no.”

After dinner had been delivered and everyone was eating their fill, Sonic gave Tails an inquisitive look. “Aren’t you hungry?” he asked, waving a slice of pepperoni pizza before his nose. “You’re always hungry!”

“No, thanks, I. . .” Tails glanced up at Maddie and grinned. “I had a big lunch.”

Maddie smiled and winked at him. He winked back.

Maddie pulled back the comforter on their bed. “I think I finally made some progress with Tails today,” she whispered with a proud grin.

Tom returned the look. “Oh, good,” he huffed. “I was starting to get really worried.”

“I know, right? He was stressing me out so bad.”

Tom yawned as he climbed into the bed. “Hey,” he added with an inquisitive look, “not that I don’t love the pizza, but whatever happened to the chicken we were supposed to have.”

Maddie pressed a finger to her lips as she got under the covers. “It’s a secret,” she replied. Tom snorted. “But, in the future, I don’t think one chicken is gonna cut it.”

Tom paused, connecting the facts of the day, before laughing quietly. “Oh, God, I keep forgetting he’s actually a fox.”

“Right?”

“The others seem so chill with our diet, but — oh, geez, he’s a full carnivore.”

“I had the exact same thought.”

“I feel so guilty!”

“I’m so glad you said that, I’ve been feeling horrible. Like, we’ve been depriving our son.”

“We’re having ham next week.”

“Or something. Steaks or turkey or something. God, that poor kid.”

Chapter Text

It was shaping up to be one hell of a holiday season. The cold had been bitter and deeper than normal ever since Halloween, and now there were projections of a huge blizzard blowing through a few weeks before Christmas. Maddie and Tom had forgone decorating in favor of stocking up on canned foods and triple-checking the generator. They’d been stuck without power and food in a bad snowstorm before, and neither of them wanted to crash with Wade once again. Hot dogs sat in the fridge, canned chicken and ravioli in the pantry, and a several cases of water bottles in the garage.

Everyone had their jobs, of course. Tails had been ecstatic when Tom asked if he wanted to help with the generator, and though nobody knew exactly what he’d done with it, they were all reassured that it would ‘surpass expectations’ in the event of a power outage. Knuckles helped collect and chop firewood for the fireplace in case they needed the extra heat. He also insisted on ‘checking the home’s defenses,’ or ensuring that the plants in the garden were properly covered. Sonic had caught word of a lost cat from a tearful girl in the vet’s office who was terrified her pet would freeze to death and had flitted through the woods and town until he triumphantly returned with the cat struggling in his arms. The scratches on his face and arms were offset by the hug that the girl gave him. He was glowing with pride when he came home.

Despite the thorough preparations, the tension was starting to get to the Wachowski’s. Tom kept the weather channel on at all times, and Maddie could tell that the projections of destruction and dangerous cold was stressing out Tails and Knuckles. She quietly mentioned this to Tom and he changed the channel for a few minutes before flicking back, his eyes dark with anxiety. The not knowing scared him just as much as knowing scared them. He at least turned the volume down so it couldn’t be heard outside the living room. Knuckles was growing restless, pacing and cracking his knuckles and muttering about how the snowfall would leave them trapped if somebody should attack. When Maddie tried to reassure him that nobody would attack the house, he simply scoffed, “I did,” and returned to pacing. That, she couldn’t refute. It was true. He did.

Maddie, for her part, kept meticulous tabs on the medicine supply. She had a good stock of medical supplies from both her veterinary work and the basic emergency aid courses she’d taken years ago. She sorted through the first aid kits three times a day, counting and recounting and then packing them up and then unpacking again because was she certain she’d seen the antibacterial spray? What about the burn ointment? Emergency suture kit? Bandages? Ice packs? Heat packs? Then was this really the most effective way to organize the kit? Why was the antibacterial ointment under the bandages, wouldn’t she need that first if something happened?

So, when the first flakes began to fall, the tension was palpable. There was no wind yet, but it was no matter. It would pick up, and before the night was out it would be whistling past their windows. They all knew it. So, as everyone sat and anxiously watching the snowflakes drift downwards, Maddie finally decided it was time for a distraction and dragged down a bin of Christmas decorations from the hall closet.

“Alright!” she declared cheerfully, pulling up a Christmas music playlist on the TV. “No more moping around! We’re decorating the house!”

Knuckles turned from his watchful post by the window. “Decorating?” he echoed.

“Yep!” Maddie popped the lid off the bin and pulled out a striped red and white ribbon. “For Christmas!”

“Is this an Earth holiday?”

“Yep!” She nodded for Tom to get the rest of the supplies as she passes Tails a couple Santa figurines. He sniffed one with interest. “Not everyone celebrates it,” she explained, “but I think the majority of people in this country do, so it’s kind of a big deal here.”

“How do you celebrate it?” Tails asked, holding up the Santas. “And who’re these guys?”

“That is Santa Claus,” Maddie explained, perching on the couch. “The story goes that on Christmas eve he flies around the world in a magical sled pulled by flying reindeer and gives presents to all the children of the world.”

Tail’s tails twitched as he frowned. “How? And why? Aren’t reindeer a land mammal? How do they fly? What kind of presents? How does he know where the kids live? Wh—”

“It’s just a myth, buddy,” Maddie interrupted with a smile, scratching his ears. “It’s just kind of a story made up for the holiday. In reality, people give each other gifts.”

“Then what’s the point of this guy?”

“Just for fun, I guess. Some parents will tell little kids that he’s real just to get them excited.” She took one of the statues and set it on the coffee table. “He’s based on a real person. Some old saint, Saint Nicholas, I guess, but I’m not sure of his story.”

Tails set the other Santa next to the first and frowned deeper as he compared them. “How do you get ‘Santa Claus’ from ‘Saint Nicholas’? Like, namewise? Did ‘Saint’ become ‘Santa’ somehow?”

Maddie pursed her lips. “Y’know, I’m actually not sure.”

He slid the figures around for a moment, as though shuffling them would reveal an answer. Clearly unsatisfied, Tails pulled out his phone and turned away, muttering, “Santa Claus name origins. . .” as he trotted to the couch.

Curious now, Knuckles turned and slid off the couch. Tails took his place, kicking his feet as he read something on his screen. Sonic stayed by the window, frowning at the frosted glass.

“This is the reason for all the colored lights around town?” Knuckles asked.

“That’s right!” Maddie handed him a little gingerbread house figure and pressed the button on the bottom so that the little lights glowed on the icing trim. “I think that came more from European winter traditions. People lit candles and stuff since the nights got so much longer, making their own light, and I think it sort of evolved into this.”

Knuckles looked up, his eyes shining. “Like the First Fire Night?” he cried eagerly.

Tom set down a few tubs much harder than necessary — trying to lift more than he should have, no doubt — and huffed. “What’s the First Fire Night?” He winced as he straightened up and pressed a hand to his back.

“It is an Echidna tradition!” Knuckles explained, holding up the gingerbread house. “On the first snowfall of the year, we would travel deep into the woods, hanging lanterns and marking the trees the whole way. We would hang carvings, and string brightly-colored ribbon and strings of dried fruits through the branches, build snow sculpture under trees. . .” He grinned wickedly. “And the older children would tell the young ones tales of monsters in the snow.”

“Monsters?” Tails echoed, looking up with interest.

“Yes! The great Snaggletooths with teeth of ice, the snakes that hid in the snowdrifts, monsters whose hunting cry was mistaken for wind in the night.” Knuckles puffed himself up and bared his teeth wickedly at Tails. “Creatures who could snatch up a child in the windstorms,” he continued, poking Tails until the kit was giggling, “with nobody any the wiser!”

“Get off!” Tails cackled, kicking him away.

Knuckles smiled proudly. He gently placed the gingerbread figurine next to the Santa Clauses on the table. “Someone was always chosen as lantern-tender,” he added, more softly. There was a pensive draw to his brow. “They would go and ensure the lanterns remained lit all through the cold times. It was a great honor.” He rested his chin on his arms, staring at the lights twinkling on the tiny house. “As a child, I always thought that night was just an excuse for some fun, a time where the children could run fearlessly through the woods with the entire tribe watching and the adults could drink and sing and not worry about tomorrow’s tasks.” He shook his head. “It wasn’t until I got lost in the snowdrifts one night and was guided back by the light of the lanterns and the trail of ribbons that I realized it was just that — marking a trail back home in the snow. The stories of the monsters were meant as warnings, tales of caution to keep children from wandering too far on nights when the air itself could kill.” After a long pause, Knuckles closed his eyes.

“Skiff told the best stories,” he whispered.

Maddie inhaled sharply. She hadn’t heard that name since their night on the porch. She didn’t know if anyone else had heard it, or if it was just meant for her.

It was only then that she realized that she was tearing up. She smiled and reached out, rubbing Knuckles’ back. “That sounds really special,” she murmured.

Knuckles gave her a weak smile and turned his attention back to the gingerbread house.

“Oh, hey!” Tails chirped, “these both kinda sound like the Festival of Flitt!”

Maddie turned hopefully to him. “What’s that?”

“It’s — oh, Santa Claus is a phonetic bastardization of ‘Sinterklaas,’ which is Dutch for Saint Nicholas, by the way — Sinterklaas, Saint Nirk-lass — hehe, yeah, it is, isn’t it? — anyways, it’s a thing the Foxes celebrate! Flitt was this kinda trickster god guy in our mythology. The stories went that he would steal from the other gods and monsters and heroes and make some sneaky, tricky escape, but he always forgot where he hid the stuff he stole!” Tails began counting off his fingers as he talked. “He stole giant seeds and forgot where he buried them, which is how we got forests — or just the Great North Woods, depending on who you ask — he dropped a bottle of white wine that gave us the Sunrise Lake, sugardrop flowers were from a bowl of sugar that he broke and scattered all over the world, even Angel Island they said was a bit of paradise that he wanted, but he hung it up too high for him to reach — though Foxes that live closer to it don’t call it Angel Island, it’s — it’s not important, nevermind. So, for a week leading up to the festival, kids would make little statues of Flitt and their parents would hide it around their home every night, and in the mornings the kids would have to find it and it would usually have little chocolates or small toys or something, then on the day of the Festival, the whole village would search the woods for the really big statue that the adults had built and hidden. The statue had a bunch of big gifts for everyone, and like food and sweets and stuff to share, then they’d spend the whole day decorating the spot where it was found and eating and hanging out!” He grinned and threw up his paws. “Then they’d burn it at the end!”

Tom startled. “They’d burn the statue of the god?”

“Well, that wasn’t, like, an official part of the tradition, but by the end of the night it’s like, hey, there’s this giant flammable statue and we’re all riled up from celebrating all day so why not burn it at this point, right? Helps with cleanup, too, I think.” Tails’ smile faded. He dropped his gaze to his shoes. “I never, uh, actually got to celebrate it,” he mumbled. “But I’d follow and watch and stuff. I’d make my own little Flitt statues.” He grinned. “Sometimes there was some food or something left at the end of the festival, and I’d take that. That was a treat.”

Maddie felt a pang through her chest. Every time this poor kid talked about his life on Mobius, it always reminded her how miserable he’d been. The way he ping-ponged so effortlessly between the moods, too — once cheerful, the next despondent, the next laughing as he delivered the most horrifying story she’d ever heard — always threw her off. She was never fully sure how to respond to it. This time, though, she smiled again. “That sounds like a really fun story,” she said cheerfully. “Maybe we can make ourselves a little Flitt.”

Tails grinned and returned his attention to his phone screen.

“What about you, Sonic?” Tom prompted, pulling the lid off another decoration bin. “You got any holiday memories?”

“No.” The answer was short, tense, and clipped. Sonic didn’t look away from the window. The snow drifting outside rendered everything completely white. There was nothing to see, and yet he was watching like it was a drama film.

“No?” Tom dropped a wreath onto Tails’ head, earning a giggle. “There’s gotta be something you celebrated!”

“I’m sure there was,” Sonic replied tersely. “But I don’t remember it.”

“Oh.” Tom blinked in surprise. Even Tails looked a little startled at the retort. Knuckles looked up with a frown.

Sonic huffed and rested his chin on his arm, folded over the back of the couch. “Just forget it,” he mumbled.

Maddie cleared her throat. “Alright,” she said, forcing a brighter tone back to her voice. “You want to help us decorate?”

“No.”

“Come on,” Tom pressed. Maddie gave him a warning look, but he didn’t see. “We’re having fun! Family bonding!”

“I said I don’t want to,” Sonic snapped again, stiffening.

“Why not?”

“I just don’t, okay? It’s not that big a deal, I just don’t feel like it!”

Tails cleared his throat timidly. “I, uh, I’ve got some info saved on holidays all over Mobius,” he ventured. “I think I’ve got some from Hedgehog traditions, or — or Owls, if that —”

“Would you all drop it?” Sonic shouted, turning sharply towards Tails. “I said forget it! Can you just forget it?”

Tails shrank back. “Oh — sorry, I —”

“Sonic!” Maddie snapped, turning to face him on the couch. “Excuse me, do not speak to your brother like that!”

“You’re all speaking like that to me!” he retorted, quills bristling defensively.

“We were not, we just wanted you to participate a little bit!”

“I don’t want to, okay? Why is this such a big deal? I just don’t feel like it!”

“We were all sharing stories of our traditions,” Knuckles interjected — rather unhelpfully. “We simply want to hear of yours.”

“I heard you all sharing,” Sonic scoffed. “I was right here. I’m not stupid. Do you think I’m stupid?”

“I just thought we could find some of yours,” Tails suggested softly. “If you want to know —”

“I don’t!” Sonic said, turning towards him again. “Not everyone wants to know everything all the time, alright, Tails? Not all of us are geniuses like you!”

Maddie stood. “Sonic Wachowski!”

Knuckles, too, stood. Unfortunately, his voice drowned out hers. “The Little Fox is only trying to help!” he shouted. “Do not attack your own brother with such dishonor!”

“Oh, enough with the honor talk!”

“Sonic,” Tom interjected, “that’s enough.”

“Stay out of it, Tom,” Sonic snapped.

Tom reeled back, blinking, clearly wounded. Sonic hadn’t called him anything but Dad in months. “Wh—”

“I’m sorry,” Tails said loudly. His eyes were wide. His shoulders were heaving, breath rapid and ragged. “I didn’t mean to make things worse!”

“Well, you did,” Sonic huffed as he turned to leave. Tails’ chin trembled.

Maddie’s shoulders hiked up. “Young man, do not walk away like that! We’re not done here!” But it was too late. They heard the attic trapdoor slam much more aggressively than it needed to be.

Knuckles looked at Tails in dismay. “Why do you not stand up for yourself?” he cried in dismay, interrupting Maddie. “You should not take such disrespect like this!”

“Don’t, Knuckles.”

Tails shrugged. “I’m sorry, I don’t — I just don’t want to —”

“How are you meant to guard the Master Emerald if you cannot even stand your ground against your own brother?” the echidna persisted, his eyes blazing. “You must learn to fight if you wish to be any good to this mission!”

“Knuckles Wachowski!” Maddie finally stepped in between him and the fox kit trembling on the couch. “That is enough, do you hear me?”

“But —”

“I don’t want a single But, you got that? I don’t want another word! Go sit in the dining room, right now.”

“I —”

“Now!” She pointed out to the hallway to emphasize her point. “We will discuss this later!”

Knuckles huffed, a hint of a growl rising in his chest, but he turned and stormed away.

Maddie let out her breath slowly, trying to control it as much as she could. She turned to Tails on the couch. He was hunched over, hugging his tails to his chest and twisting them around each other. His ears were pressed flat against his skull and his eyes glittered with tears.

“Tails, honey, you alright?”

In response, he burst into tears and fled from the room.

“Aw, Tails!” Maddie turned to followed, but she already heard the door to the spare bedroom upstairs, the one that was quickly evolving into his personal workshop, slam loudly. She sighed and collapsed onto the couch, burying her face in her hands.

“Goddamit,” she whispered. Her own voice shook with barely-restrained tears.

Tom grunted. “I’m going to put this away,” he muttered, grabbing the wreath and tossing it back into the bin.

Maddie looked up. She wanted to snap at him, too. Lot of help you were, she wanted to say, thinking of how he’d stood in silence while she fought to talk Knuckles down. She wanted to snap at him for leaving her there alone, for not doing more to diffuse the situation. But the last thing they needed right now was more people arguing. So she just turned away and nodded. He left the room without another word. Maddie picked up the figurines — the ones that just moments ago everyone had been playing with and talking about and asking after — and set them back in the box.

She thought they’d been doing so well. It had all felt so good. They’d had camping trips and movie nights and dance parties and sure they had all bickered as some point or another, but nothing as severe as this. Sonic, of all people, had never lashed out like this before. It felt so sudden. Had she messed up somehow? She didn’t think so. It had felt like a nice moment. She wasn’t sure how it got so quickly spoiled into such a vicious fight.

She didn’t close the bin. She just sat and stared at it. She could see the snow falling out the corner of her eye. Growing heavier, but still no wind. The house seemed to grow colder for a moment. She shivered. Then the heat kicked on. The pipes rumbled in the walls.

She sighed and sat back, carding a hand down her face.

She didn’t even like Christmas that much.

It must have been half an hour later when she heard footsteps upstairs. After a few more minutes, she heard Sonic clear his throat in the doorway.

“Have you seen Tails?” he mumbled.

Maddie couldn’t help a sour look as she glanced at him. “I think he’s in his workshop.” She opened her mouth to add, And I don’t want you to speak to him unless you’re apologizing, but Sonic cut her off.

“No, he’s not.”

She paused. She squinted. “He’s not?”

Sonic shook his head. His eyes looked a little red. “I just checked,” he said, nodding back towards the stairs. “He’s not there.”

Maddie frowned and stood. “Tails?” she called, trotting to the hallway. There was no response. “Knuckles? Tom? Have either of you seen Tails?”

Tom emerged from the kitchen and shook his head, brow furrowed. “Not since the argument.”

Knuckles, too, appeared in the dining room entrance. “Is he missing?” he demanded, shoulders tense.

“We — well, we don’t know anything yet —”

“Little Fox!” he shouted, turning towards the staircase. “Where are you?”

They all paused, listening for any sort of response.

Silence.

Knuckles marched to the door, snatching his scarf from the coat stand. “I am going to check the car stable,” he announced, nodding to the garage. “Await my word here.” Before anyone could protest, he was gone.

“Maybe he’s taking apart the washing machine again,” Tom muttered, hurrying past Maddie.

“Or my hairdryer,” she agreed, moving to their bathroom.

“Or he’s under his bed,” Sonic added, scuttling back up the stairs.

No sign of him in the master bedroom or the bathroom or under her and Tom’s bed.

Knuckles slammed the door. “He is not in or around the car stable,” he shouted to the house at large. “Nor is he on the back porch, or the immediate surrounding woodlands.”

“His backpack is gone!” Sonic’s voice was panicked, frantic as he pounded down the stairs. “His backpack and his Miles Electric and his hat and coat and scarf!”

Maddie sat up, banging her head on the bottom of her bed. “What?” she gasped, stumbling out to the hallway. Tom was already there, looking just as shocked.

Sonic was in tears again — he’d definitely been crying earlier, too, Maddie was certain now. “The window was open a bit,” he continued, almost too quickly to hear. “In his workshop, the screen was popped out and it wasn’t closed properly or locked at all, I think — I think he must’ve —”

Knuckles’ paw landed on his shoulder, cutting him off. “The snow is thick,” he said solemnly, “and the wind is growing stronger. Though the conditions are dangerous, they will hinder his movement. He likely has not traveled far from home.”

Maddie was speechless, only able to turn and stare out the window. The snowfall had grown heavier. The wind was just starting to pick up.

“Tails,” she whispered in disbelief. Her baby boy, out there all alone, hauling a backpack and fighting the wind, trudging in the snow — trudging to where? Where was he trying to go? Where could he be?

Sonic nodded rapidly and wiped his eyes. “Yeah,” he mumbled. “Yeah, you’re right. We can still find him.”

Maddie turned back. “What?”

“We’re going to find him,” Sonic replied with determination. His voice, despite its youth — he was thirteen, he was thirteen — left little room for argument. Already, he was disentangling his scarf from the coat rack. “Wait here in case he comes back.”

Tom stepped forward. “Wait, wait, you’re not going alone!”

“Mobians are better built to withstand cold than humans,” Knuckles replied, very practically. “The Little Fox has confirmed this himself many times. We with our powers have even greater tolerance. If we all go, we risk losing more of us or getting separated in the poor visibility. Tails is likely not far, and there is a good chance we can locate him quickly with the Hedgehog’s speed, covering greater ground in little time, after which it will only be a matter of retrieving him, for which we do not need all of us.” Knuckles pulled his cap over his head, then looked gravely at Maddie. He tapped his fist against his chest, thump-thump like a heartbeat. “We will return,” he vowed, “with the Little Fox, but we need to know we are returning to someone here.”

Maddie stared at him wordlessly. She couldn’t find any refute for his logic, despite how badly she wanted to go with them, to hunt through the snowdrifts herself for her little boy. She didn’t want to send her other little boys after him alone, but he was right. There wasn’t much she and Tom could do to help but make sure that there was something for them to come back to.

Sonic nodded as he knotted his scarf. “What he said.”

Maddie shook her head. “Just —” She hurried to the closet and grabbed their coats. “Layer up more, it’s minus-six out there.” She knelt and bundled Sonic in his first. For once, he didn’t protest. She had a feeling he would rip it off as soon as he was out of sight, as he often did, but still. She grabbed his face and planted a kiss on his head, then pulled his hat down more securely over his ears. Then Knuckles. He allowed her to help him into the garment and, when he fumbled with the zipper, she grabbed it and zipped it for him. She sat back on her heels and reluctantly knocked her fist against her chest, thump-thump like a heartbeat.

“Just don’t get lost,” she whispered.

Both of the boys nodded. Sonic opened his mouth, like he wanted to say something else, then shut it, nodded to Knuckles, and opened the door.

Just like that, all three of her boys were out in an oncoming blizzard.

Maddie got to the window just in time to see Sonic’s familiar blue blur zip off through the trees. Knuckles jogged along behind.

Then they were gone.

She turned to Tom. He dragged his gaze from the window and looked at her helplessly. After a long moment, he turned back to the kitchen.

“Guess I’d better get some soup on.”

Tails was shivering. The child-sized coat Tom and Maddie had gotten for him was nice, but even it couldn’t withstand the level of cold that blanketed the woods now. The wind tearing through the trees seemed to slip through every seam like a knife, hacking at his skin through his fur, ripping up his lungs, clawing at his throat as he struggled for breath. He coughed. Snowflakes — they were so soft and sweet and gentle when they were building snowmen or having snowball fights or sledding — they whipped at his face like angry bees, snapping and stinging and leaving painful nicks in their wake.

He kept going. Away, away, away, before he messed things up more, before they decided for themselves that they didn’t want him.

He wished he could fly, but the visibility was so low that he’d crashed right into a fir tree when he’d tried, and now with the wind — no, flying was out of the question. But he could walk.

Walk where?

Didn’t matter. Just away.

It was up to his thighs, now, the snow. Every step was an ordeal, a struggle. He could feel it melting against him, turning back to cold cold liquid, sinking into his fur and his coat and his scarf. His ears were numb, tucked into his damp cap. His tails fluttered behind him.

Another gust of wind nearly bowled him over. And then it did. He tumbled into a snowbank. He tried to get up, tried to dig himself out, to kick the snow away and stand again, but it was no use. His muscles were stiff. He was exhausted. Everything hurt and he was so tired.

He could feel the snow collecting in his fur. It didn’t melt as quickly anymore. Tears froze on his face.

Chapter Text

He was lying on his stomach. He felt cold and hungry and heavy.

A familiar voice, shouting, panicked. Someone was dusting the snow from his head, his snout, cradling his face. His backpack was pulled away, looped off his shoulders. No, no, not again, he needed that stuff. Why couldn’t they ever get that he needed that stuff? A heavy paw on his back. Tails flinched and whimpered, waiting for the blows that always followed, the jeers and laughter of village kids who had found their prey once again. He curled up and hid his face under one paw. It was the best defense he could manage now.

“Breathe easy, Little Fox. You are with your brothers.”

Brothers?

Oh, yeah. He had those now, didn’t he?

Someone lifted him gently from the snow. He whined. He’d been pretty comfortable there.

“Oh, God, Tails, I’m sorry, I’m so so sorry, I swear I’ll be a better brother forever, I promise, please just be okay, please, please, please —”

That was nice. He’d always wanted brothers.

Maddie paced and looked again out the window. The wind had picked up into a gale, howling and wailing through the woods. The trees creaked and whipped at every gust. It had been nearly an hour, and nobody was home yet. She wasn’t sure how long even Mobians could last in these conditions, even her boys. But she didn’t know what to do. She could hardly go after them — however long they could last, she would be down in half that — and she didn’t want to risk missing them. What if they came back while she was gone? What if they went out again to find her? No, she’d never forgive herself. So she and Tom had contented themselves as best they could with making soup and building a fire and preparing tea for their kids’ eventual return.

Because they would return. Anything else was unacceptable.

Just as she was turning to begin another loop of the living room, the front door burst open. She whipped around, eyes widening.

“Boys!”

And there they stood, stumbling in with the plumes of snow that followed. They were coated with the stuff, all their bright color nearly lost in the pure white. Sonic dragged Knuckles inside and kicked the door shut behind them. Knuckles staggered in. His knees were trembling with exhaustion, which showed just how much they’d struggled. He never showed his fatigue so openly. He carried Tails on his back. The kit was slumped against him, eyes closed, mouth quivering. His tails dragged limply on the ground behind them. Sonic was holding Knuckles upright, keeping both paws on the Echidna’s arm, supporting and guiding. He carried Tails’ backpack, looped over his shoulders.

“Oh, my God!” Maddie gasped, rushing forward. “I’ve got him, Knux, give him to me.” She grabbed Tails under the arms, careful to support his head, and Knuckles surrendered him gratefully. As soon as the kit was in her arms, Knuckles pitched forward, knees buckling. He caught himself on his hands and knees, shoulders trembling.

“Whoa, big guy,” Sonic grunted, stumbling after him. He managed to stay upright, but didn’t let go of his arm. “Take it easy.”

“Hey!” Tom hurried forward and crouched in front of them, grabbing hats and scarves and coats. “Give me that, it’s all soaked — there’s towels by the fire, go dry off now.”

Maddie sat on the couch and quickly began peeling away Tails’ wet winterwear, tossing it carelessly aside. The poor kit’s fur was soaked through. He seemed too exhausted to even shiver like the others were. Maddie picked up a towel and began patting him dry. She had to resist the urge to rub him dry, to try and work some of the circulation back into his limbs. If he was frostbitten, then friction would only hurt him. She needed to be patient. Tom passed her a couple heating pads, then gave one each to the other two huddled in front of the fire. They were already nestled together in the pillows and blankets there, both ensuring that the other was warm enough. Maddie set one bottle on Tails’ chest and the other against his back, ensuring that his tails were tucked against him. Then she bundled him in a thick blanket.

Maddie huffed and wiped her eyes. She gave Tails a quick hug and a kiss between his ears. Usually he would lean into that touch, snuggling against her or blushing at the kiss, but now he just twitched and whined softly. His brow was pinched, his whiskers trembling. Maddie wanted to wake him out of whatever nightmare he was having, but she knew she couldn’t. There was nothing any of them could do but wait.

She carefully picked him up and stood, moving to the fire. She crouched and regarded the other two carefully as she set Tails in between them.

She regarded them carefully, glancing them over. “Are either of you hurt?” she asked. “Tell me honestly, I don’t want any nobility bullshit right now.”

They shared a look. Sonic nodded. “Knuckles tripped while carrying Tails,” he mumbled. “Some tree root or something. We both missed it in the snow. Think he twisted his knee or something but he won’t admit he’s hurt.”

Knuckles gave him a half-heartedly betrayed look. “I am not —”

Maddie rested her hand on his knee. He winced and tensed so hard that Tails, still in his arms, groaned in his sleep. Maddie gave him a severe look.

“What did I just say about nobility bullshit?”

He shut his mouth and pressed his lips together as she looked at his knee. Definitely strained, but not fully twisted or dislocated. She could imagine it hurt like hell, though, out there in the cold on uneven ground.

“Just stay off it for the next few days,” she said quietly, squeezing his arm supportively. He just nodded, his eyes fixed vacantly on the fire. When she shuffled back, he wrapped his own blanket around Tails, pulling his little brother into his lap to rest against his chest. Sonic huddled against the two of them, tossing his own blanket around them. He curled up, halfway in Knuckles’ lap, and rested his head on Tails’ chest — partly for warmth and partly to monitor, Maddie guessed. 

“Sonic, what about you?”

Sonic shook his head. “Just cold,” he mumbled.

Knuckles grunted in agreement. “I believe some rest is all we need.”

Maddie nodded and squeezed Sonic’s shoulder. “Then rest.”

Sonic grabbed her arm as she tried to stand. “Mom?” he mumbled. She paused. He blinked, eyes misty. “Mom, I — I —”

Maddie took his hand reassuringly, even as she gently disentangled it from her own. “We’ll worry about it later, sweetie,” she murmured. “Get some sleep right now. It’s getting late.”

Sonic stared up at her. But, slowly, he settled back against Knuckles. Maddie sat back on the couch and ran her fingers through her hair, nails grating lightly against her scalp. Tom returned and handed Knuckles and Sonic mugs of soup. Sonic took another and set it by the fire for when Tails woke up. He tried shaking him once or twice, but Tails only shuddered and mumbled something incoherent.

As Tom stood to leave, Sonic grabbed his arm, too.

“Dad, I’m —”

“I know, bud.” He patted Sonic’s head and stood. He looked too tired to say anything else.

He sat next to Maddie and rubbed her back. She looked at him desperately. He shrugged. And he was right. What else was there to do?

All of them fell asleep where they sat.

Maddie awoke blearily to a pitch dark room. The fire was the only light, flickering weakly in the hearth. The windows were completely dark. The snow was swirling so strong and thick that any light that may have been trying to work its way through was sufficiently snuffed out. It was impossible to gauge the time. She groaned and rubbed her eyes, wincing as her neck creaked. She pushed herself to her feet and shuffled to the pile of firewood they’d stacked inside. She set a couple more logs on the fire and waited until they caught. The light grew steadily with the warmth. She turned to check over the boys again.

Knuckles was nestled deep in the pillows and blankets, his arms wrapped protectively around Tails, who was still curled up on his chest, and Sonic, who was sprawled overtop both of them. All seemed well. No signs of nightmares or discomfort yet. Maddie resisted the urge to give each of them a kiss — she didn’t want to wake them — and stood, making her way quietly to the kitchen.

She grabbed a glass from the cabinet and turned on the tap. It hadn’t frozen, then, that was good. She left it dripping to ensure that it would remain as such, then leaned back against the counter and took a long drink. She stared at the dark window.

“How you doing?”

She turned to Tom in the doorway and shrugged weakly. “I don’t know,” she murmured, rubbing her brow. “This whole thing just feels like my mess, y’know?”

Tom nodded wearily as he picked up a granola bar. “Like it just proves we don’t know what we’re doing,” he mumbled.

Maddie nodded but said nothing else.

“Dad? Mom?”

They both looked up to see Sonic huddled in the doorway, his blanket wrapped around his shoulders and dragging on the floor behind him.

“What are you doing up?” Maddie sighed, setting her glass on the counter. “You should be resting.”

“No,” Sonic mumbled, shaking his head as he stepped into the kitchen. “I can’t sleep. I need to talk to you guys.”

Maddie glanced at Tom, who nodded reluctantly.

“At least sit down,” he said, herding him to a seat at the kitchen table. Sonic complied, climbing up into a chair. He rested his head on the table as soon as he was up, his eyes drooping laboriously, like just staying awake was taking all of his effort. Maddie and Tom sat across from him.

Sonic blinked drearily and sighed. “I’m sorry I called you Tom instead of Dad earlier,” he mumbled. “And I’m sorry I got so mad and ruined everything.”

Maddie and Tom exchanged a look. “It’s. . .” Tom hesitated around It’s okay because it didn’t feel okay. It had hurt. Everything he’d said. Tom rubbed the back of his neck and sighed. “I forgive you, buddy,” he said finally. “I just don’t know what happened, y’know? It felt like it came out of nowhere.”

“I know,” Sonic mumbled. “I shouldn’t have snapped at everyone like that.”

“No,” Maddie agreed. “That’s not how our family should communicate.”

“No.”

“So. . . do you think now you can tell us what you were so upset about?”

Sonic sighed and buried his face in his arms. “It’s just. . . I’ve always felt more human than Mobian,” he explained softly. “I don’t know anything about the Owls or the Hedgehogs or anything about anything, I was so little when I left that I don’t remember any of the important stuff about it. I got used to that while I was here. Like, I was like, alright, that’s too bad, but there’s nothing I can really do about it, right?” He raked a hand through his messy quills. “But then yesterday, with Tails and Knuckles talking about all their holidays and stuff, it just reminded me that I really. . . I really don’t know anything about my home.” His chin trembled. “I’m not human, even if I pretend, and — and I’m not Mobian, either. I’m just. . . I’m just sorta nothing, aren’t I?”

“Oh, Sonic,” Maddie murmured, reaching over to take his hand. “I’m sorry, honey.”

Sonic shrugged meekly. “I’m sorry,” he said again.

“It’s alright,” Maddie said. “I understand being upset about that.”

Tom squeezed Sonic’s arm until he looked up at him. “And you’re not nothing,” he told him firmly. “You hear me?” Sonic nodded halfheartedly, so Tom pressed on. “You’re our kid. And not knowing about Mobian traditions and stuff — I know that must be hard. But y’know, it doesn’t make you any less of what you are, does it?”

Sonic shrugged. “I guess not,” he mumbled.

“And you have your own things that you celebrated,” Maddie added. “Didn’t you?”

Sonic smiled weakly. “Like college move-out weekend,” he mumbled, “when I could run down to the universities in the city and find all the cool stuff students threw out because they didn’t want to pack. I always swiped some ice cream on the way home. Or marching band season, when the band at the high school would start practicing again and I got to watch. I loved dancing to that stuff.”

“See?” Maddie smiled. “Everyone’s got something that’s special to them. If that’s more special to you than any of our holidays, that’s okay. If that’s what you remember more than the holidays on Mobius, that’s okay. What makes a holiday special isn’t about how many people celebrate it or how old it is. It’s just about sharing celebration of things that are special to the people we love.” She smoothed down the quills on his head. “And if you ever want to share your holidays with us, I know everyone would be happy to hear about them.”

Sonic nodded slowly. “Yeah, I guess that makes sense.” He picked at a loose thread in his blanket. “Still think I’d like to know about some Owl and Hedgehog stuff, though.”

“Well,” Tom said, nodding to the living room, “I’d tell that to Tails, when he wakes up.”

Sonic’s lips quivered. He nodded again.

Maddie sighed. “It’s okay that you were upset, honey. But in the future, we all need to think a bit more about how we express stuff like that, alright? Yelling at each other like we were is not the way we should try to resolve things.”

Sonic nodded yet again. He still looked miserable.

“And you need to apologize to your brothers,” Tom added, “as soon as they wake up.”

“Yeah, I know.”

“Good.” He ruffled the top of Sonic’s head. “Go back to sleep, then, bud, it’s midnight. You need your rest right now.”

Sonic hummed and slid off the chair.

“Sonic?” Maddie added. He paused and looked back. “You did good today, going after Tails.”

He smiled weakly. “Thanks, Mom.” Then he shuffled back to the others sleeping in front of the fire. Maddie watched as he settled back in again. The other two shifted in their sleep to make room for him, instinctively accepting him back into the arrangement, curling arms and tails and paws back around him. Tom and Maddie waited just a bit longer, keeping watch for just a few more minutes, before they went back to their own room to sleep.

Maddie slept later than she would have liked, but she’d forgotten to set an alarm in the shuffle of the previous night. Tom was already gone when she awoke, and the smell of toast and coffee was wafting from the kitchen. Still had power. She counted that as a win at the moment.

“Hey,” she said softly, accepting the mug that Tom had already poured her. “How is everyone?”

“Still sleeping,” Tom replied quietly, nodding to the pile still unmoving before the fire. It looked like he’d added a couple more logs again. “I think you might want to take a look at them. They’re all looking a little rough.”

Maddie frowned. She drained her coffee mug, grabbed the medkit from under the sink, and tiptoed into the living room. When she made her way to the fireplace, Tails was blinking blearily at the flames. She crouched in front of him with a smile.

“Hey, buddy.”

He jolted, like he hadn’t noticed her, and looked up at her. Immediately, he quailed and looked away again.

“. . . Hi,” he whispered.

“How’re you feeling?”

He shrugged wearily. “My throat hurts.”

She wasn’t surprised. His eyes looked a little red around the rims. His ears were drooping slightly, and his nose quivered even in the heat from the fire.

“Think you can get yourself out of all that? I want to give you a quick check-up.”

Tails shifted in his blankets and slowly extracted himself from his brothers. Knuckles grumbled in his sleep, Sonic snuffled and curled deeper into his pillows, but neither awoke as Tails crawled into Maddie’s arms. He even managed to keep his blanket around his shoulders. Maddie picked him up and carried him to the couch. He felt warm even through the blanket and when she pressed a hand to his brow, it was undeniable.

“God, you’re burning up,” she murmured, reaching for the thermometer. Tails stared vacantly at the wall as she pressed it carefully into each ear to check his temperature. Too high. Far too high. His throat was swollen, too, and his breath wheezing disconcertingly.

“Alright,” Maddie sighed, setting the stethoscope aside, “you’re on bedrest for the rest of the week, hear me? I don’t want to see you running or flying anywhere, even working on anything that you have to get up for. Got it?”

Tails nodded. He still hadn’t looked at her since he’d woken up. He curled up, hugged his knees to his chest, and buried his muzzle in his arms. His blanket fell off his shoulders. He didn’t move to replace it. He was tense. He looked like he was waiting for a blow, a beating, bracing to flinch or hide. Tears lingered on his eyelashes, but didn’t fall yet. It made Maddie’s heart ache that even after all these months, even after she and Tom had been so careful and gentle and patient and his brothers had showed him nothing but absolute love and encouraged him endlessly, he still expected violence as the first response to his mistakes and bad decisions. He was still so, so scared. Maddie tried not to take it personally. He was clearly trying to hide his fear. He knew on some level that they wouldn’t hurt him, but he’d spent his whole life before fearing others. She knew it would take a long, long time to truly unlearn all that. From what little she knew about his childhood, she wouldn’t be surprised if traces of it followed him his whole life.

But, still. It hurt to see.

Maddie hesitated, then reached out and gently pulled the blanket up around his shoulders again. He tensed, but didn’t pull away.

“You alright?” she asked quietly.

Now, one of the tears fell. Rather than answer, Tails just hid his face in his arms.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. His voice was shaking and raspy. Maddie wrapped an arm around him and he caved into the touch, huddling against her. “I’m really, really sorry.”

“I know, honey. Just breathe. It’s gonna be alright.”

Tom entered from the kitchen with a mug of tea. He held it out to Tails, who stared at it cautiously for a moment as though it was something completely foreign to him. Like he expected it to be poisoned, or splashed in his face if he reached for it. He didn’t take it. Tom sat down with a sigh, resting the mug on his knee, in easy reach of the fox.

“Do you want to talk about what happened yesterday?” he ventured.

Tails sighed, ears drooping, head hanging in shame. “I’m sorry,” he mumbled yet again.

“I know, buddy,” Maddie murmured, rubbing his shoulder. “We forgive you, but we need to know what happened last night, alright?”

His chin trembled. “I think I just panicked,” he murmured. “I don’t know, it felt like everyone was getting mad at me again, and I — I just wanted to leave before somebody made me.”

“Nobody’s ever going to make you,” Tom reassured him firmly. “This is your home, Tails. Nobody’s ever going to make you leave.”

Tails nodded miserably. He picked at the fur on the tail that rest on his lap.

“Stop doing that, bud.”

“Sorry.” He hugged his tails to his chest. “I just feel so stupid.”

“Well. . .” Tom shrugged. “I mean, flying out the window in the middle of the biggest blizzard of the decade was not your brightest moment, I’ll give you that.”

Maddie gave him a halfhearted scowl, but she couldn’t disagree. She couldn’t imagine what he had been thinking in that moment. She pressed a kiss to his head. “But you’re all okay now,” she added. “That’s what matters.”

Tails nodded. “I just wish the others hadn’t gotten sick going after me,” he mumbled.

“Well, that’s something you have to remember now,” Maddie reminded him. “You’re not alone anymore. That means you’ve got people to help you, and those people will take that initiative to help no matter what.” She nodded to Knuckles and Sonic, still sleeping in front of the fire. “Those boys would do anything for you. That means that when you’re wanting to do something dangerous, you don’t just have to think of yourself anymore. You’ve got to consider how it’ll affect the people around you, right?”

Tails nodded. “Yeah.” His voice sounded rough and raspy. He glanced at the tea in Tom’s hand a timidly held out his paw. Tom passed him the mug. He took a sip and winced as he swallowed. “Am I in trouble?”

Tom and Maddie shared a look.

“No,” Tom decided, rubbing Tails’ back. “I think you’ve been punished enough.”

“Just no more of these stunts, alright?” Maddie said. “If you’re feeling scared or hurt by something someone said, just talk to us, okay? If something had happened to you out there —” She inhaled sharply. It was too much to even think about now. “Just — this cannot happen again, alright? Never scare us like that again.”

Tails nodded. “I won’t.”

“Promise.”

“I promise.” He snuggled more deeply against Maddie’s side. “Thanks.”

Maddie rested her head against his. “We love you, buddy.”

“Yes,” Tom agreed, squeezing his shoulder. “We love you so much.”

Tails smiled shakily up at them. “Thanks.” He dropped his gaze to his tea. “I think. . . I think I’m still learning what that means,” he whispered. “But. . . I love you, too.” He yawned widely, sharp teeth glinting in the firelight, and took another drink.

Maddie smiled softly. “Do you want to go up to bed?”

“Can I just stay here?”

“Yeah, of course.”

Tails curled up and dozed, every so often taking sips of his tea. Sonic and Knuckles eventually awoke and surrendered to checkups that yielded unsurprisingly similar results to Tails. Despite Knuckles’ insistence that “Echidna warriors do not fall ill,” all three were sentenced to a few days of rest. The TV was turned on to reruns of some cartoon that Maddie didn’t recognize — something about a tourist trap in Oregon — but that the kids seemed to enjoy well enough despite the general dour mood over the household. Tom left to check on the police station and see if anyone around town had lost power. Maddie called the clinic to see if they needed help, but a couple of techs within walking distance assured her that they had it covered and not to worry about making the trek into town. The three kids huddled on the couch and watched TV while Maddie went to her room to read. She needed a bit of space.

Unfortunately, space was one thing that had been lost in the gain of her family.

“Maddie?”

She fought a sigh and looked up to see Knuckles in the doorway. “Hey, bud.”

“How long shall I be relegated to this bed rest? I grow restless.”

“Until you’re better. You should be staying off your knee, too. And anyways, it’s not like you can go out right now. There’s five feet of snow out there.”

Knuckles growled in frustration, but nodded and turned away.

“Knux?”

He paused and looked back.

“Have you apologized to Tails yet?”

His shoulders hiked up. “For what?” he demanded gruffly.

Maddie frowned at him. “For yelling at him yesterday. Don’t play dumb.”

“I rescued him from the blizzard! Is that not apology enough?”

“No. You would’ve done that even if you’d been furious at him, because you love him and you do that sort of thing for the people you love. He needs to hear you say that you’re sorry for hurting him, too. I think he still thinks you’re mad at him.”

“But —”

Maddie sighed and sat up, patting the bed next to her. Knuckles hesitated, then reluctantly trudged over and hopped up onto the bed. She knew that he was a teenager, somewhere around 15, and tried to treat him with the maturity that demanded. But seeing him kick his feet every time he sat on a human-sized piece of furniture really made it hard to see him as more than a kid, sometimes.

“You know what you did wrong yesterday, right?” she asked.

Knuckles sighed deeply. “I lost my temper with him,” he muttered, kicking one heel against the bedframe. “I should not have been so severe.”

“No, you shouldn’t have.”

“But he must learn to stand up for himself!” he insisted. “He should learn to fight! What if someday he faces a greater foe, and I am not there to take the hits for him?”

“Then that’s a different problem!” Maddie cried. “Knuckles, Tails was already incredibly upset when you started yelling at him! That was the last thing he needed at that moment! He needed support, not scolding. The way you said that to him was not helpful. It just made him think you were angry at him. That scared him. You know that kind of stuff scares him!”

Knuckles sighed and hung his head. He kicked his feet. “I did not mean to frighten him,” he muttered.

Maddie rubbed her brow. “Yeah, I know you didn’t.”

“But he should defend himself!”

“Buddy, in that moment, Tails was trying to deescalate the situation.” She tilted her head. “Do you know what that means? Deescalate?”

Knuckles shook his head.

“It means he was trying to calm things down, trying to cheer Sonic up again rather than getting mad, because he realized that getting mad would probably make things worse.”

Knuckles sighed and slumped. “Like I did,” he mumbled.

Maddie nodded ruefully. “Yeah. Like you did.” She rubbed the bristly fur on his back. “Fighting back isn’t always the best way to handle something. Especially with people you love. Sometimes, when you’re arguing with someone or in the middle of a fight, when you’re so angry that all you want to do is keep fighting or yelling, you have to ask yourself a really serious question.”

Knuckles turned to her, eyes grave and intent. “Which question?”

Maddie returned the looked just as seriously. “You need to ask yourself what’s more important: winning this fight, or your relationship with that person.”

He frowned. “So you are saying I should give up every fight to make my brothers happy? That is not the way of an Echidna warrior.”

“No, there are times you should stand your ground when it comes to really important stuff. I’m saying that sometimes you have to recognize that fighting will cause more problems than winning a fight will solve. It can cause damage to your relationship with someone. It can damage feelings, and damage trust, especially. Sometimes the best option is just to step back and make yourself calm down. Maybe you keep discussing the problem once you’re both calm, or maybe you just have to take a loss sometimes. But you have to decide when that trust matters more to you than a win.”

Knuckles shook his head, bewildered. “How will I know when to do which?”

Maddie sighed and looked away. “I don’t always know, honestly. It’s something I need to work on, too. Sometimes you just have a moment of clarity and decide, and others. . .” She ran a hand down her face. “None of us handled yesterday very well, I think. I’m sorry, too.”

Knuckles shrugged and turned his gaze to his heavy paws. “I am the one who frightened Tails into leaving,” he mumbled. He fidgeted with his paws on his lap. “I carry most of the blame.”

“That’s not true, it wasn’t all you,” Maddie sighed, rubbing his back again. This time, he leaned into her side. “You’ve just got to think of how you say stuff to other people. Not everyone is like you, Knuckles. Some people need to be treated a bit more gently, alright? If you are concerned about Tails being able to fight, that’s something you mention to him when he’s not on the verge of tears. What he needed in that moment was to know that you were in his corner, not that you thought he was weak.”

Knuckles nodded. “I understand,” he murmured.

“Good.” Maddie pressed a kiss to the top of his head. “Now go say you’re sorry, alright?”

“Very well.” Knuckles slid off the bed and bowed his head. “Thank you for your wisdom. . .” He hesitated. “. . . Mother.”

Maddie’s heart jumped. She tried to reply but found herself dumbfounded. Knuckles didn’t seem to notice. He just knocked his paw against his chest, thump-thump like a heartbeat, turned, and marched from the room, returning to his brothers on the couch. Maddie couldn’t make out what they were saying all the way down the hall, but she could hear all three of their voices in low, solemn tones. Then, Tails laughing, then Sonic, and Knuckles. After a long moment, after she’d managed to settle her racing heart and repress the tears that were threatening to spring up, Maddie stood to investigate.

The TV was still on. There were three fresh mugs of tea and an open bag of cough drops on the coffee table, but all three of the boys were huddled together under a few blankets on the couch, preoccupied by Tails and his Miles Electric. He had the screen tilted more towards Sonic as he chattered.

“. . . dead people went on to live in the stars, see? So they’d hang crystals and stones around inside and outside their homes, one for every loved one they’ve lost to remind them that they’ve become a star. Some more important people might have whole contraption made for them, or someone might carve a little something, like a symbol of why that person was important to the village.” Tails swiped across the screen and showed Sonic again. “Then, most Hedgehog villages celebrate Starry Night! Once or twice a year they’d all bring out their star hangings and hang them on one big, elaborate device that spins around a huge fire, so the light catches all the stuff and makes all these cool patterns! They all dress up in these bright colors, some dress up like constellations or the legends that they tell of, sometimes people will paint their faces like really colorful monsters! There’s puppets of monsters and predators and stage shows where heroes defeat them, or people will have the puppets chase little kids around until the kids ‘defeat’ them. It’s supposed to be a thing about how scary things happen and there’s dangerous stuff out there, but together with the living and dead, they can learn to fight anything! And, like, even if something does kill you, there are people who will carry your memory on.” He tapped on a picture. “It’s also a way for people to tell the stories of the ‘stars’ they’ve got in their homes, y’know? So they can remember everyone they’ve lost.”

Sonic chuckled as he glanced over the screen. “Pretty morbid, huh?”

Tails shrugged. “I guess.”

“I think it is very meaningful,” Knuckles said. “Death is a constant to every being. It is important to become familiar and comfortable with it.” He leaned over the screen, studying the picture of the star hangings spinning together around the fire. “And a reminder that even in death, we remain together.”

“Yeah,” Sonic murmured with a soft frown. He rested his cheek on Tails’ head. “That plus, like, the only thing we can really do is remember, huh?”

“That seems to sum it up,” Tails agreed softly, snuggling into Sonic’s side. “There’s also this one that they did in the winter time. They’d take bits of bark and fallen leaves and paint them really bright colors, hanging them around the home, to ward off the grey and white of winter. Then they’d burn them in the spring, to give the color back to the world.”

“That one sounds way more fun.” Sonic caught Maddie’s eye and looked up with a proud grin. “Hey, Mom!” Look, I apologized, he forgave me, everything’s okay!

Maddie smiled. “Hey, guys.”

Tails looked up at her hopefully. “Hey, I know you said not to move too much or work on anything too hard, but, I was wondering. . . could I make myself a Flitt statue today?”

Maddie grinned. “I think that sounds like a great idea.”

Tom returned within the hour, reporting that everything was good in town, and found the rest of the family gathered in the living room. Pine needles and paper and bark and sticks and string and beads and scraps of cloth littered the floor. Ozzie sniffed curiously at everything and tried to steal some ribbon but was quickly shooed off by everyone. Maddie had several classic Christmas movies ready to go. They were already well into A Christmas Story — her personal favorite — and though an occasional question popped up about it, the movie was far from the main focus.

Tails worked tirelessly at his Flitt figurine. He told everyone animated stories of the trickster god and all his capers, and some follow-ups about the beings he was conning in every story. The little statue began to take shape under his paws, a bundle of twigs and pine needles with sharp little ears and a pointy nose and a long, twisting tail of braided grass and fir branches. He didn’t say it, but he was clearly proud.

Knuckles carefully fashioned some of his own carvings, traditional symbols of protection and strength that were hung from the trees around his village. He told them the stories of the monsters in the snow, prowling things with long claws and sharp teeth that could suck out a warrior’s breath in a heartbeat. When Tails shuddered at the thought, though, he quickly added, “But not this warrior! If any such being were to threaten the Wachowski clan, they would be dealt with before they could blink!” Then he tussled with his little brother until both were giggling and coughing and Tom scolded them both not to roughhouse, they were meant to be resting.

Sonic didn’t talk much. He still didn’t have many stories of his own from Mobius, not much that he remembered. But he listened and laughed and asked questions and asked if they could watch The Polar Express next and worked tirelessly on his own project. He’d taken the amulet off an old necklace he’d found years ago, something he’d had in his cave that he just like the color of. He carefully strung it with colorful glass beads and braided ribbon until he was satisfied.

“My own star,” he said proudly, holding it up to show. “Longclaw.”

He spent the rest of the day painting bits of bark and scraps of firewood.

The next week, when everyone had recovered, the Christmas tree went up. Maddie and Tom told the story of each ornament they passed them to hang on the tree, they showed the boys how to weave the striped ribbon through the banister, they gave them each a stocking and showed them how to hang it by the fireplace. That night they watched The Muppets’ Christmas Carol, which Maddie firmly believed was the best iteration, and after the raucous approval of the boys, Tom was forced to agree.

They talked to each of the boys, too, about how they wanted to celebrate their own holidays. Eventually, they reached something of a melting pot.

For the week leading up to Christmas, the Flitt statue was hidden around the house every night. Tails just about bounced off the walls with excitement when he awoke to find the first clue on the breakfast table, that first morning. It had, as he had related to them, little chocolates and sweets and bunches of grapes hidden with it, which the boys all gleefully shared whenever it was discovered. The outside of the house was decorated with Knuckles’ carvings along the path, guiding the way to the front door. The inside of the house was covered with the bright paintings that Sonic had done.

Tom had watched It’s a Wonderful Life every Christmas Eve for his whole life, so that’s what they all watched together. Tails fell asleep and missed part of it, purring drowsily on Tom’s lap, Sonic kept asking questions about how banks actually worked and what was such a big deal about everything, and Knuckles was confused as to why there was no color. But they wall watched. Tails and Sonic both cried at the end. Knuckles agreed that it was heartwarming, but said that ‘the mob’ should have gone to beat up Mr. Potter after the big scene at the house. Tails told him to shut up and appreciate the art.

On Christmas morning, the boys awoke to find the stairs decorated with the ribbon and carvings and strings of dried fruit that Knuckles had showed them how to make. Sonic’s painted bark and leaves hung from the ceiling. When they followed the trail down to the Christmas tree, they found all the gifts wrapped underneath, and the star that usually topped the tree gone, with Flitt in its place.

Tails beat both his brothers down the stairs. He was just about vibrating with glee when he saw the scene. “It’s Flitt!” he shrieked, grinning as he pointed in case his brothers hadn’t seen it. “It’s just like the festival! It’s just — it’s just —” He broke off laughing and turned to throw himself at Tom and Maddie in a hug. “It’s just perfect! It’s just like I’ve always wanted to do! Thank you, thank you, thank you! Thank you so much!”

Maddie laughed as she hugged him. Just this made the late night setting everything up so worth it. “You’re welcome, buddy.”

“Thanks for sharing it with us,” Tom added, ruffling his hair. “Merry Christmas.”

Tails pulled away and grinned at them both. “You’re the best, Mom and Dad!”

Maddie gasped, but he was already gone, diving into the gifts with his brothers. Tom grabbed her hand and squeezed it with a tearful smile.

“This one is for you, Father!” Knuckles announced, hefting a box over his head. “It is from Sonic and I together!”

They both took their places on the couch and watched the holiday ensue.

Everything was working out.

All it took was a little patience. A little time.