Chapter Text
Chaos lives in each of us.
Like the river in the gorge, it can nourish us even as it shapes our lands.
Like the fire of the hearth, it can consume our hearts but also brightens our homes.
Like the stars above, it can fill our heads with wonder, yet reminds us how small we are.
As the river thunders and rushes without care for us, so does Chaos embolden us: a fount of speed and force.
As the hearth nurtures and warms, so does Chaos blaze within us: a furnace of strength and spirit.
As the stars twinkle in their journeys, so does Chaos dance and taunt us: the mysteries of time and the insight to unravel them.
But we must never try to control Chaos, only ourselves in it's wake. Without exercising restraint, Chaos could destroy us all.
We must remember that Chaos has control all it's own.
-Translated from the Parables of Pachacamac, carved at the ruins at Tachaeossus [1002 BA/970 CC]
01. Trying Matters
“TIKAL,” his deep baritone was answered by a tinny chime rising in the darkened office, the light of the monitor a cold contrast to the bruised blues and pinks of the sunset reflecting off of the bay. The war of light and colour stained the white leather rich gold and deep purple as he dragged his gloved hand across the desk, closing the body of text. “Is this the last of Guardian's Chaos archive?”.
A tiny golden echidna blipped into being on the corner of the screen, and in a deeply warm voice answered, “That is correct. We have exhausted all of Guardian's archived folklore on Chaos mythology.”
Red fur caught the twilight as he turned his head toward the bay, swimming pensively through the ocean of legend and lore that had filled his mind. The “Hmph,” that rumbled in his chest was effectively a reflex, as black dress shoes took his weight and he strode to the floor-to-ceiling glass. Crimson eyes shone in the dark reflection, like twin rubies that drew him to stare into his own ghostly visage.
The stories were always couched in metaphor; Chaos was water, or fire, or starlight – Chaos was anger, or hope, or... love. He swallowed a tremulous shiver, and one pair of white-wrapped fingers gripped the edge of the other hand's glove, tugging the material tight to center himself.
Chaos suffused everything – every mobian thing, at least. It was like rainwater, gathering in potholes on the street. Some puddles were wide, some small. Some were deep, and some were shallow. Some were like an ephemeral film on the sidewalk – gone in an instant. And some were more like wells than puddles - seemingly bottomless.
That's what parents told their children, at least. A kind lie to explain the passage of a loved one to a mind not yet ready to understand the truth. The ebb and flow of Chaos likened to the rising and falling tides of life.
Vermilion quills bounced as he shook the fairy tales away, and his eyes traced the bright colour through the forest of carbon it was nestled in. Red caught the light while black devoured it, in dangerous looking spines that he'd never been able to truly tame down. He slid his eyes closed, shut his reflection out. “Are there any external sources yet to try?” In the dark of his mind, he imagined amber fog coiled in a tight ball – each sensation creating a ripple in the surface that he would smooth out.
The warm voice had one triangular ear twitching. “We would have added any external sources we could find to our archive. This is as complete a collection as you could hope to find, Mr. Rose,” the voice seemed caught between pride and disappointment. The answer had been obvious, in hindsight.
Honey-gold flickered and fluttered like gossamer, and he calmed his breathing and stilled the rolling smoke by will alone. Focus and control. He cracked his eyelids and looked past the glimmer of ruby irises to the wharf, bathed in crepuscular twilight. The setting sun cast long shadows, blanketing the city in the stillness of an early spring evening. 'She will be home by now,' he considered 'I should be leaving.' He turned away from the window, back to the desk, and leather fingertips pressed the laptop closed. He slid the device into it's canvas bag. “Thank you, TIKAL.”
“Of course,” the voice rose again. It had been coming from some embedded speaker in the ceiling. “You're my favourite, after all,” cloying, like thick honey. He could almost feel ethereal hands cupping his face, telling him everything would be alright.
“Hmph,” a grunt, but laced with fondness in his own way. “I will see you tomorrow,” he pulled his jacket onto his broad shoulders, hands finding the pockets to check for wallet and keys before shrugging the laptop bag onto his hip and moving toward the door.
“Good evening, Shadow,” she bid farewell, and a sound like tinkling wind chimes implied the construct had left the room. He knew better, but said nothing.
The coal and crimson hedgehog wondered quietly about what would await when he got home. His sister always made dinner, and he quirked a private grin despite the dead end in his research – spending time with her always made him feel better.
--
Sunset in the city of Emerald Coast was peaceful, all things considered. Sure the occasional high-speed chase might break out – police sirens blaring over the cawing gulls and the roar of the ocean – but never anything that major. The city was just big enough to get lost in, if you tried, but small enough that one could wrap their head around the idea that “nothing ever happens here”.
On this particular evening the serenity was being broken by an unassuming red-brick warehouse near the wharf. Not necessarily the warehouse itself, mind. The cobalt blue hangar-like doors certainly weren't helping the peace, cheerily clashing with the brickwork, but they were at least inoffensive. Above the doors, over the years-faded 'Mean Bean Coffee Co.' logo, hung a handmade wooden sign bearing a winged golden hoop with 'Blur' blazed across it in blue – but as eye-catching as it was, the sign wasn't interrupting the borough's twilight tranquility either.
Just below the peaked roof, an array of windows ran down each side of the building and let the dusty golden light of the setting sun spill across the upper floor. The windows around the ground floor were in good repair, steel cages crisscrossing the glass with the same cobalt blue as the hangar door – installed to keep stones and low-flying birds from breaking any glass, but painted to help the bars feel friendlier. The windows also weren't shattering the calm.
The main floor of the building had been converted into a sort of all-purpose living area, like a cross between a kitchen and living room with half a dozen mismatched rugs scattered colourfully into a cozy quilt beneath tables, chairs, and couches. The golden shafts of sunlight landed on a pile of neatly-stacked pizza boxes piled just inside the doors, some of them a couple weeks old. A small tower of mismatched dishes peeked above the lip of the salvaged kitchen sink that had been dropped into a sheet-steel countertop, competent but clearly not professional-grade work – seven sets of multicoloured tiles randomly scattered across the backsplash with no obvious design. The kitchen wasn't the source of the disruption either, despite the chaos of those tiles with the clash of a pastel-green fridge and bright red stove.
A pair of punched-steel stairways flanked the living room, leading up to a mezzanine balcony and a pair of former offices which had been converted to bedrooms, one door gold and the other blue. Further still toward the back of the first floor, a gap in the red-brick dividing wall peeked into a cluttered workshop full of half-finished gizmos and whiteboards covered in scribbles and equations. The amber and blue lights from the rack of old computer towers were certainly distracting, flickering like some unknowable signal across space, but they weren't disruptive.
No, the peaceful evening was being torn asunder by a trio of colourful friends in the midst of yet another blowout argument.
“Knuckles! Come on, just wait a minute!” the bright voice of a golden fox called out across the converted living-room. Emerald eyes watched them as they twist to their knees on the gray couch, head resting on the arms they'd folded across the back. The twenty-something sounded almost ten again the way they whined “You can't just quit...” and he could just about picture the blue eyes pleading around a shock of blonde fluff, despite only seeing the back of his sibling's head. Their twin tails hung limply beneath the chunky-chequed red flannel tied around their waist, ears folded back sadly as they pouted at the crimson form of their retreating friend.
He felt the laugh escape his throat before he knew he was laughing, seeing the fox's big ears perk from the sound. “Yeah Knucklehead. Chill out,” an easy grin spread on his face as he lounged in his favourite red armchair, catching his own tawny muzzle from the corner of his eye. “We both know you're not goin' anywhere anyway.” He shrugged as though to say 'obviously', and he felt the cool air curl around his chest when his shirt fell further open.
Across the room and halfway to the door, scarlet-quills flared as the echidna loosed a guttural growl. The glowering amethyst had him second-guessing the smirk. “Not this time, you cocky blue bastard,” a leather-clad fist rocketed forward, jabbing a bare accusing finger at him. “You don't take anything seriously, do you Sonic?” Knux' question hanging rhetorically for a second as the brawny man shouldered a hard black guitar case onto his back. He looked like he was ready for a beach day in that chaos-awful jungle print shirt.
He imagined the concrete floor creaking under him as the echidna leaned weight on his back foot and counted off on short-clawed red fingers for emphasis. “We haven't played any kind of show in months, we get together to practise maybe once a week, half the time we do that you're a no-show, and the other half of the time you're cracking jokes instead of playing.”
Sonic felt his brow crease at that accusation, even if it was mostly true. “What do you expect me to do? You're all business all the time? You're lucky I haven't died of boredom,” a remark that he'd maybe misjudged, as it only seemed to stoke the scarlet mobian's temper further. He saw the disappointed look on the fox's face and tried not to let the hurt in those blue eyes get to him.
“I expect you to at least practise with us more than twice a year!” Knuckles roared, violet eyes burning intensely, his voice only continuing to rise in the open space as his tirade continued. One of the second-story windows shuddered loose at the ramping volume. “We sacrifice for this, me and Tails,” he watched Knux' hands gesture back and forth between himself and the fox. “We both have actual jobs and we make time to be here. We're both putting ourselves into this band because we want it to go somewhere.” He saw the two share a melodramatic look, and Sonic exaggerated a yawn and laid his head back in disinterest. He had heard this all before.
His ear twitched as the bassy echidna continued. “And clearly you don't... so, I'm done with it. I'm out!”
The words hung for a beat, barely enough time for a breath of air – again the laughter burst out before he could contain it. “Oh, 'you're out' eh?” Sonic chuckled, incredulous. “Gonna just hang it up and waste away at that security gig? Naw man we both know what you're about. You're music through and through – you'll be back in a--”
“No, Sonic,” the brawny vermilion male interrupted in a low rumble, somehow even angrier and more forceful than the earlier yelling. From the corner of his eye, he spied Tails' head darting between them, and swore he could feel the anxiety coming off the fox – Knuckles and he had fought before, but this felt different and he could tell his sibling could feel it too. “This time I mean it, I've got another band already lined up... that actually practises even! I'm done with this clown bullshit.” Wait... another band? He watched the big shoulder roll, the echidna making sure his bass was seated right before turning on his heel and stomping his chunky green boots purposefully toward the big blue hangar doors.
“But Knuckles...” Tails voice squeaked from the couch.
The big man grumbled back, “Sorry, Tails...” and paused at the door to shout one last barb. “If you get tired of babysitting your grown-ass brother,” he looked like he was trying to drill holes in a pretty blue face with just his eyes, “you know how to reach me.” Without another word he pulled the door open and stepped out into the evening light.
He could feel his self-assured smirk grow thin, but Sonic waved a bare-fingered hand dismissively at the retreating Knuckles. “Gah, let 'im go, Tails. He's just blustering.” The other hand still tucked casually into his quills with his scuffed red-and-white sneakers propped on the old door they were using for a coffee table.
“But... Sonic...” the fox started, twisting back around in the couch after the hangar doors slammed shut with a sharp bang, punctuating their crimson bassist's departure. “What if he doesn't come back?”
He peeked a green eye open above that tenuous grin, locking grass to sky and noting the deep concern on his sibling's face. The flaxen tails were wrapped around Tails' hips, hiding tight jean shorts as they studied their brother's grin. The confident assurance had helped, but he could tell that the vulpine hadn't shook the feeling that Knuckles was really not coming back this time. Sonic gave the fox a carefree thumbs up and brushed off the idea, “Seriously, bud. Don't worry about it – he'll be back.”
“Yeah, you're probably right.” the fox admitted in a tone that sounded halfway between resigned and resolute.
The sound of the echidna's ride pealing off down the wharf was like the bright red stroke of a pen underlining the whole argument; beneath that confident mask, Sonic found himself worrying too. He and Knuckles had come to blows before – like, actual punches. He had the scar to prove it – but they'd always made up.
'I gotta admit, it did feel more final this time...' the thought raced through his head before he could stop it. 'That big red jerk seemed serious – more serious, rather.' The thoughts were beginning to swell behind his eyes, like a dam about to burst. He needed to get out of the house, clear his head in the chilly spring evening. His green eyes met the watery blues of his adopted sibling and he managed another signature grin. He watched Tails release a shaky breath and return his smile weakly, and Sonic's shoulders relaxed as the sun seemed to finally peek from behind stormy clouds and rejoin them in the room.
Sonic hopped to his feet and pressed his fists into his low back, releasing a series of little pops and crackles as he leaned backward. He pulled the facade of another cocksure smirk back on as made his way across the room. “You know I'm right,” his cotton-clad palm ruffling the golden fluff as he passed the couch, bare blue fingers tousling Tails' hair affectionately. The fox said they hated it, but he knew deep down that the gesture was comfortable - the hands swatting at his arm playfully helped broaden his own smile as he continued to the door.
He thumbed his worn-in leather bomber jacket off his hook by the door - myriad buttons and patches covering nearly every inch of the hide - revealing a cheeky blue caricature of his own grin and a dangling house-key. A thumbpad brushed across the faded rectangle of his red-yellow-and-blue key-chain and Sonic tried to ignore the empty red coat-hook beside his own while shrugging the jacket onto his shoulders. “I'm always right!” he let out a laugh at his own joke, but it felt a little too much like he was trying to convince himself. He winked grassy green at the sky in his sibling's eyes, and that finally earned him a genuine smile from the fox.
Countering with a cheeky grin of their own, the golden canid challenged, “Psh, yeah right bro – you're wrong plenty.” His heart felt lighter when he caught the sly wink they'd thrown in for good measure. “But yeah, Knux'll calm down,” they admitted, and after a beat, “Probably.” The expression on Tails' face seemed to want to add 'I hope'. They kept that thought in, though, and Sonic saw realization flash across the golden face. “Ah, you're... going for a run, I guess?”
He felt his quills bounce as a chuckle tumbled from his throat, and twirled his keys around an index finger before stuffing them in his pocket, “Yeah, just need some air – don't wait up for me, but I'll check in on you when I get home, okay bro-er... sib'?” his heart fell into his stomach and he winced a little, but the fox's eyes had slid closed with a whole-faced-grin at the self-aware correction. Sonic had slipped up, but he was trying – he had to remember that trying mattered.
“Sure thing. Be careful yeah?” the fox warned.
With a dramatic hand on his chest like he'd just been accused of murder, Sonic joked “I would never!” and slipped out the big doors, tugging them shut and disappearing into the failing sunlight.
--
His mind was never calmer than when he was running. Sonic was quick when he tried – maybe Olympic-level if he really tried – but he wasn't in a mood to try right then. A steady jog was easier to maintain, and his head was definitely in distance over speed mode. There was something cathartic about just putting one foot in front of the other, something simple that he could focus on, that let him turn his brain off for awhile. It helped him think – or rather keep from thinking – as he dashed through the streets, turning the heads of scattered pedestrians.
He used his hands almost as much as his feet; rolling over car hoods, hopping benches and planters, and springing seamlessly into the gaps between vehicles when he had to. When he ran, it was like the city's pulse was coursing through him, and he could almost feel everyone around him, knowing where they were without really looking.
An effortless somersault over the hood of a gaudy orange muscle-car pulled too far into a crosswalk, a hand-vault over the roof of a black sedan that would have cut him off, fingers grasping nimbly to one of the handles on a passing mail truck – tugging his knees up and kicking off the doors to divert himself down another road. The responses were basically automatic as his green eyes darted back and forth across the street without even really registering what he was looking at.
He drifted between pools of streetlight, like little islands in a yawning sea of night that threatened to swallow him up. The darkness didn't bother him, really; he'd pass through the centre of every light and his mind would swell with the feeling that he was in the spotlight on a stage, surrounded by cheering fans screaming his name. He'd bask in the praise and adoration, and then the darkness would rush up to meet him again before the next light brought that fleeting thrill back. A steady pattern of elation and apathy, each peak made him feel like the centre of attention and each valley like the unknown loser that he feared he was turning out to be.
Running could only stall the wheels from turning for so long, before the hedgehog's mind shifted gears and he found himself pulled back into that fight.
'Did I fuck up?' What if the Knucklehead was serious this time? What if he was really done?
'Do we even need a bassist?' For years it had just been Tails and him, and he thought they sounded pretty good just synth and guitar and drum machine.
The brothers – 'Siblings' he corrected himself again – hadn't needed a bass-line before, but even he had to admit that the low tones helped fill out their sound. He just hated how rigid Knuckles could be; he was all 'discipline' and 'practise', like... All. The. Time.
For the seven years he'd known the echidna they'd always fallen back into each other's lives. Even when they fought, it was more like a sibling rivalry. They were like brothers, he knew that's how Tails saw the big lug. Sure, they weren't technically – not the same way he and the fox were – but Knux was still part of his fucked up little family, they'd bounce back.
'Forget the band, what about everything else?' The little voice in his head startled him and his feet stumbled to a stop, nearly planting his face in the asphalt.
The big idiot had always been there when it really mattered; on holidays, in emergencies, or backing him up against bullies – the brainy fox had been a bit of a magnet for them, once. He stared up at the sliver of the moon peeking between the cliffs above town, panting very lightly to catch his breath. Would he still be there when they needed him?
Certainty flashed across his face and he cocked a grin as he realized: even if the he was fed up with Sonic, Knuckles would be there for Tails. He seriously couldn't picture their lives without the red asshole.
“He'll be back,” he pushed himself back into a sprint, letting his mind wander again as the last purple rays of sunlight disappeared behind the horizon.
--
It was past midnight before he made his way back home. He was beyond grateful that Tails kept the smaller 'people door' set in the main 'hangar door' well oiled, as blue fingers eased the entry silently open. The living room was lit by whatever RPG the fox had been playing, Tails' soft snores rising into the air over battle music that had been stuck between his quills for weeks. He tugged the door shut gently and crept up behind his sibling, peering down at them fondly. They'd fallen asleep in what looked like a boss fight, he noticed.
'Probably stayed up to make sure I made it home,' he felt a little guilty.
The fox barely reacted when he plucked the controller from their sleepy grip and suspended the game, the TV going dark. He stepped around the couch and set the device in the middle of the cluttered coffee table, eyeing Tails in that tenebrous light of the idle LCD screen.
There'd been precious few moments where he'd actually seen them sleeping in recent years, the fox often coming home long after he'd gone to bed, or working long into the night on some project. The absolute serenity of this rare moment felt intoxicating, and he hated that he'd eventually have to disturb it. Instead, he settled gently beside the younger mobian and was not surprised when a fluffy white cheek found his shoulder. 'Hey, bud,' he kept the thought in his head, and he smiled softly as he watched a vulpine muzzle burrow into the bare peach fuzz on his chest a little.
His heart thrummed, and anxiety spiked as he imagined breaking this peace. No, he'd let them sleep for a bit first.
As he slid an arm around Tails' shoulder, the blue hedgehog considered that he might need this right now. He pulled the fox close and let his grassy eyes dance over the placid features. He remembered the slightly awkward, endlessly optimistic fox-boy he'd met over a decade earlier; neurotic, picked on for his smarts, and his physical differences – mutations the kids would call them.
They'd grown up so much since then. He leaned in and pressed a black nose to the golden fluff atop the fox's head, eyes unfocused as he wondered just how much longer the fox would be close enough to hug like this. The two had become more affectionate as they got older – got over childish aversions to showing that they cared – not overly, but the occasional cuddle in a thunderstorm or cozying up for a movie.
They were still growing up, though; getting to that point where he knew Tails was looking for something. There were some things Sonic wouldn't be able to give them – they were family, after all. The thought of the fox leaving him alone had become an inevitable thought in recent years...
“I know I've always been the brave one,” he mumbled softly into flaxen headfluff. “but it terrifies me to think of you on your own, bud.” The fingers of his other hand brushed the hairs off the fox's face and he settled his chin between the big ears. Even when his sibling wouldn't hear his words he couldn't bear to admit aloud that he was more scared for himself than for Tails.
He froze when he heard a voice and angled his ears toward the fox, needing to concentrate to pick the noises out of the ambient hum of the refrigerator.
“Mno, the... robertson...” Robertson? He pulled back just a little... and was relieved to realize his sibling was just murmuring in their sleep. He wondered what inventions they might be dreaming up as the long quills on the back of his head met the couch. He caught sight of the moon through the high windows near the vaulted roof. Tails' comforting weight shifted a little as an arm snaked across his abdomen, the fox nestling in a little tighter.
'He might be an asshole, but Knux is right about one thing,' he thought, fingers drifting down to squeeze a bare golden wrist gently. 'I really should try a little harder. Trying matters,' he had to remember that...
He shut his eyes, 'Just for a moment,' and immediately fell asleep.
\\O//