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Chapter Text

The elevator groaned as it descended into the earth, each shuddering clank echoing through the steel shaft like the heartbeat of something long dead. I clutched my hammer tighter against my chest, the faint hum of the energy anomaly prickling at the back of my neck. The silence was oppressive only broken by Rouge’s idle hum and Sonic’s tapping impatiently against the wall.

“Creepy place,” Kuckles muttered.

“That’s what happens when you build labs under mountains,” Rouge replied casually, though I caught the sharp edge in her eyes. She was just as uneasy as the rest of us.

I glanced across the elevator, eyes locking on Sonic. His arms were folded, expression calm, but I knew him better than that, there was a tension in his stance, a readiness for danger. Shadow stood just behind him, their shoulders nearly touching, and for some reason, that closeness burned in my chest.

They were married. Married.

Even now, years after their wedding, I couldn’t quite bring myself to accept it. I told myself I was happy for him, that he’d found someone who could keep up with him, who could stand at his side as an equal. But deep down, that familiar ache hadn’t gone away. I still dreamed about his smile sometimes. Still wondered what could’ve been.

The elevator shuddered to a halt, and the heavy doors creaked open to reveal the facility’s chamber’s. Dust hung in the air, catching in the beam of Tails’s handheld scanner.

“Energy readings are spiking down here,” Tails murmured, adjusting his goggles. “Definitely the source of the anomaly.”

“Then let’s move,” Shadow ordered, stepping forward with his usual cold authority.

We fanned out as we entered the main corridor. The air was stale, metallic, tinged with something chemical that made me wrinkle my nose. Rusted doors lined the hallway, some broken, some locked. The flickering lights overhead that barely held power.

It felt like a tomb.

We pressed deeper, combing through ruined laboratories and collapsed storage rooms. Papers littered the floors, their words faded and stained. Rouge knelt, flipping through some of the less-damaged ones.

“Research logs,” she said, wings twitching. “Genetics, energy manipulation, chaos theory…” She trailed off, frowning at the last page. “And something about…a subject?”

My ears perked. “Subject?”

Rouge didn’t answer. Instead, she passed the page to Shadow. His crimson eyes scanned it quickly, narrowing. Sonic moved closer to read over his shoulder, his hand grabbing onto Shadows.

“They weren’t just studying chaos energy,” Shadow finally said, his voice low. “They were… trying to channel it into a living vessel.”

Tails’s twin tails stilled mid-sway. “That’s…That’s dangerous. If they tried to infuse chaos power directly into a person, the results would be catastrophic.”

“Or effective,” Rouge said grimly.

The chill in the air deepened, and I hugged myself, suddenly aware of how silent the halls had become.

It was Knuckles who found the alcove. A heavy blast door, half-buried under debris, still hummed faintly with power. It took all of his strength, and a quick chaos spear from Shadow, to force it open.

The stench hit us first. Stale, chemical, and something older… something rotten.

We stepped into the darkness, our lights sweeping across shattered consoles and broken glass. In the center of the room stood a row of containment pods, most shattered, some scorched. But one remained intact.

My heart skipped.

It was an old tube, cloudy with condensation. Inside, curled in a fetal position, was a baby. A hedgehog. Their fur was pale, their breathing shallow but steady. They couldn’t have been older than a week or so.

“Oh my god…” I whispered.

Tails scrambled forward, scanning the pod. His voice shook. “They’re alive. In stasis, but alive.”

For a long moment, none of us moved. The weight of it was suffocating, the baby, the failed experiments, the knowledge of what horrors must’ve happened here.

Then Sonic stepped forward. His gloved hand pressed against the glass, his face uncharacteristically solemn.

“We can’t leave them here,” he said softly.

Shadow moved beside him, his expression unreadable. But his silence said enough. He agreed.

Freeing the baby was delicate work. Tails directed the process, with Rouge and Knuckles keeping watch. I stayed back, clutching my hammer so tightly my knuckles ached. My chest felt like it was splitting in two, part at the horror of what had been done here, part longing as I watched Sonic and Shadow kneel beside the pod, waiting for the baby to stir.

When the capsule hissed open, mist spilled out onto the floor. The baby gasped, coughing weakly as air filled their lungs.

Sonic caught them instantly, cradling the small form in his arms. His voice softened in a way I’d never heard before. “Hey there, little one. You’re safe now.”

The newborn blinked briefly up at him, then at Shadow, who knelt close. Their tiny fingers reached out, brushing Shadow’s arm as though drawn instinctively.

Something unspoken passed between Sonic and Shadow, in that moment a decision was made.

Shadow rested a hand gently on the infant's check. “We’ll take care of them.”

And just like that, it was decided.

We left the facility in silence. The air outside felt fresher, freer, but I couldn’t shake the heaviness in my chest.

Sonic carried the child carefully, as though they were the most precious thing in the world. Shadow walked beside him, ever the guardian. Knuckles, Rouge, and Tails followed close, speaking in hushed tones about what to do next.

I trailed at the back, my heart aching with every step.

I should’ve been happy. Sonic had found something beautiful in the darkness, a family, a purpose beyond fighting. Shadow had softened in a way I never thought possible. The baby would be loved, cherished, and protected.

But deep down, that old wound throbbed. Sonic had chosen Shadow. And now, together, they’d chosen this little one. There was no space left for me.

That night, when we stopped to rest, I sat apart from the others. The stars glittered above, cold and distant. My hands trembled in my lap.

I could still hear Sonic’s voice, tender and warm, as he soothed the babe now named Stellar. I could still see the way his smile lit up when she clung to his chest. That smile used to be mine, the one that sent my heart racing, that made me believe in happily-ever-afters.

Tears pricked my eyes. I wiped them just as quickly, not wanting anyone to see.

“You’re quiet tonight.” Rouge’s voice broke the silence as she settled beside me, her wing brushing my shoulder.

I forced a smile. “Just…thinking.”

“About him?” she asked, no judgment in her tone.

I swallowed hard, then nodded.

Rouge sighed softly. “Amy…you have to let him go. He’s happy. And maybe, just maybe, this is the best thing that’s ever happened to him.”

I knew she was right. I hated that she was right.

My gaze drifted back to the fire, where Sonic and Shadow sat side by side, Stellar nestled safely between them. Sonic laughed at something Tails said, and the sound was warm, alive, full of love.

My heart broke all over again. Maybe Rouge was right. Maybe this was the best thing that could’ve happened to him. To them.

And maybe, one day, it would be my turn to find that kind of love.

Chapter Text

The door swung open before I even knocked. Sonic’s face greeted me first, bright, easygoing, that same smile that still had the power to unravel me even after everything.

“Hey, Ames!” His voice was warm, casual. “Thanks again for this. Me and Shads wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t important.”

Behind him, Shadow appeared, his usual cool composure intact. But the way his eyes softened when they turned toward the small bundle in his arms was something I never thought I’d live to see. Stellar’s little ears twitched as she stirred, blinking sleepily against his chest.

“Don’t let Sonic make this sound bigger than it is,” Shadow said, his tone clipped but not unkind. “We’ll only be gone for the evening.”

Sonic grinned at him. “Yeah, yeah. Still, means a lot.”

My heart did a dangerous little flip as I stepped inside. “It’s no trouble at all,” I said, hoping my voice didn’t shake. “Really. I’d love to spend some time with Stellar.”

And I meant it. 

Their home was cozy, modest, lived-in, full of touches that reflected both of them. A shelf of books stacked neatly (Shadow’s, surely), a table cluttered with spare rings and maps (Sonic’s undoubtedly), and above the mantle, a photo that made my chest ache. Sonic, Shadow, and Stellar, together, all smiling. A family.

Shadow gently transferred Stellar into my arms, and the warmth of her tiny body sank through me like sunlight after rain. She blinked up at me with wide, curious eyes, chaos-tinged just faintly, like galaxies hidden in her gaze.

“Thank you, Amy,” Shadow said simply.

Before I could answer, Sonic leaned in and brushed Stellar’s forehead with a kiss, his voice dropping to that impossibly tender register I only ever heard him use for her. “Be good for Amy, kiddo.”

The sight made something twist sharp in my chest.

Then they were gone, Sonic waving one last time, Shadow giving a small nod, and the door clicked shut behind them.

Silence filled the house. Just me and Stellar.

My heart thudded.

At first, I focused on her needs. Changing her clothes, making sure her bottle was ready, gently rocking her when she fussed. I hummed soft lullabies I remembered from my own childhood, and to my relief, she settled easily, her tiny hand curling around my finger.

But as I sat with her in my lap, the thought crept in.

Dangerous. Treacherous. But so tempting.

She could’ve been ours.

The idea bloomed in my chest, wild and reckless. If I just… pretended for a little while, if I imagined Stellar was mine and Sonic’s child instead of his and Shadow’s, maybe it would ease the hollow ache I’ve been carrying for so long.

Maybe it would let me feel, even for a moment, what it might’ve been like.

I swallowed hard, guilt gnawing at me, but the longing was stronger. I traced Stellar’s tiny quills with trembling fingers.

“You know,” I whispered softly, “if things had been different… you could’ve been mine.”

She gurgled in response, her small smile flashing, and my heart broke open.

The evening drifted by in a blur of moments that felt stolen from a dream. I carried Stellar through the house, showing her trinkets as though she could understand. “That’s your daddy’s medal from the games,” I said softly, pointing to Sonic’s old trophy on the shelf. “And that… that’s Shadow’s book collection. He’d never let you touch those.”

She giggled at my tone, and I laughed too, even as tears pricked my eyes.

Later, I sat on the couch with her curled against me, her breathing slow and steady as she drifted toward sleep. The glow from the lamp bathed us in warm light, and for one fragile heartbeat, I let myself believe it.

That this was my home. That she was my daughter. That Sonic was mine.

I pictured him walking back through the door, not with Shadow at his side, but alone. Coming to me. Smiling at me . Sitting here, next to me, as we held our child together.

The fantasy was so vivid it hurt.

“I could’ve loved you so much,” I whispered to Stellar, my voice breaking. “Both of you.”

She stirred, her small hand clutching at my dress as though she didn’t want me to let go. And I didn’t. I couldn’t. Not yet.

The hours passed too quickly. By the time the knock came at the door, my heart was tangled in knots I couldn’t undo.

Sonic and Shadow stepped back inside, a faint chill of night air following them.

“Everything go okay?” Sonic asked, his voice light.

I nodded quickly, forcing a smile as I handed Stellar back. “She was perfect. An angel.”

Shadow’s lips quirked up in the faintest of approving smiles as he gathered her back in his arms. Sonic ruffled my quills affectionately. “Knew we could count on you, Ames. Thanks again.”

My chest burned at the touch, but I held steady, hiding the war inside me.

“It was my pleasure,” I said softly. And it was true. Even if it hurt.

Because for a few fleeting hours, I’d filled the hole in my heart with a pretend reality.

And no one would ever know.

That night, lying alone in my bed, I pressed my hands to my chest and tried to hold onto the warmth of Stellar’s weight against me. I told myself it wasn’t wrong, it was just a harmless daydream, a way to soothe the ache.

But deep down, I knew the truth.

I had stepped into a life that wasn’t mine. And the more I clung to it, the harder it would be to let go.

Still… for those hours, I had tasted what it might’ve been like. A life that would never belong to me.

And sometimes, maybe that was enough.

Chapter Text

It started to become routine.

Every few weeks, Sonic or Shadow would call, asking if I could watch Stellar while they handled some mission or meeting. And every time, I said yes before they even finished the question.

I told myself it was because I wanted to help. Because I loved Stellar, her laugh, her chaos-bright eyes, the way she clung to me like I was someone safe. And that was true. But it wasn’t the whole truth.

The rest… I kept buried deep.

Each time I held her, each time I whispered lullabies or rocked her to sleep, I slipped back into that quiet fantasy I’d spun that first night. That Stellar was mine. Mine and Sonic’s. That somehow fate had twisted differently, and I had ended up where Shadow stood.

And no one knew.

No one saw the way my heart swelled when Stellar curled against me, or how my smile trembled when Sonic kissed her goodnight. No one heard the words I whispered only when we were alone, secrets I couldn’t tell another soul.

It was selfish. It was wrong. But it was the only cure I had for the ache inside me.

That afternoon, it was just me and Stellar again.

She’d grown since the first night, more energy in her tiny legs, more questions hidden in her wide eyes. I’d brought some picture books and a few toys, and she sat on the carpet, shaking a rattle, like it was the greatest treasure in the world.

I laughed softly, sitting cross-legged beside her. “You’re going to be a handful when you get older, aren’t you?”

She babbled nonsense in response, her tiny quills bobbing as she waved the rattle in the air. My heart melted.

Leaning down, I whispered, “You know… if things had gone differently, you’d be mine. Mine and Sonic’s little girl.”

She didn’t understand, of course. But when she reached up, tugging at my gloves with her tiny fingers, I let myself pretend she did. Pretend she was reaching for her mother.

I kissed her forehead, breathing in her warmth. For that moment, the ache in my chest vanished.

The sound of the door opening jolted me. My first thought was Shadow, back already, come to take her from my arms before I was ready. But when I turned, it wasn’t Shadow.

It was Sonic.

He stood in the doorway, a bag slung over his shoulder, surprise flashing across his face when he saw us on the floor. “Hey, Ames,” he said with that easy grin. “Didn’t think I’d be back so soon. Shadow’s still tied up, figured I’d head home first.”

My heart fluttered painfully. “Oh! I just didn’t expect you to be home so soon is all!”

Sonic walks over, dropping his bag onto the couch. His eyes softened as he looked at Stellar, who was now reaching out to him with little squeaks of joy.

“Hey, squirt,” he chuckles, effortlessly scooping her up. She giggled as he tossed her lightly into the air, catching her with a playful spin. The sound of her laughter filled the room, bright and pure.

I couldn’t look away.

“Want to play with us?” Sonic suddenly asked, his grin turning on me. “C’mon, she loves peekaboo.”

For a heartbeat, I couldn’t breathe. Then I nodded quickly, voice catching in my throat. “Y-Yes. Of course.”

We settled onto the carpet, Stellar between us. Sonic clapped his hands over his eyes, then spread them wide with a goofy “Peekaboo!” that sent her into fits of giggles. I joined in, hiding behind my hands, letting her squeals fill me with a joy so sharp it blocked out everything else in the world.

Together, the three of us laughed, playing simple games, making faces, chasing her tiny hands as she crawled clumsily across the carpet. Sonic’s laughter mingled with mine, warm and easy, and in that moment, just for that moment, it felt real.

It felt like we were a family.

My chest swelled with dangerous hope. This was what it could’ve been. What it should’ve been. Sonic, Stellar, and I. In a perfect little world, fragile but dazzling, a dream that I didn’t want to wake from.

I caught Sonic’s gaze once, and for a fleeting second, I imagined he looked at me not just as Amy, his life long friend, but as something more. The fantasy wrapped tighter around me, sweet and suffocating.

I wanted to stay in it forever.

The sound of the front door unlocking shattered everything.

Shadow stepped inside, his presence filling the room like a sudden storm. His eyes swept the scene, the toys scattered, Stellar giggling between me and Sonic, and something unreadable flickered across his face.

“Plaefgh!” Stellar squeaked, reaching her little hands toward Shadow.

The word cut me like a razor.

Sonic stood immediately, handing her over with a kiss on the side of Shadows' check. “Hey, Shads. You’re back earlier than I thought.”

Shadow’s expression softened at Sonic's affection, Stellar nestled securely into his chest. “The meeting ended quickly.” His gaze flicked to me, sharp and steady. “Thank you for watching her, Amy.”

My throat was dry. I forced a smile, clutching my hands in my lap to keep them from trembling. “Of course. She was wonderful, as always.”

But inside, everything was collapsing. The fantasy crumbled, shattered by the sight of them together. Sonic, Shadow, and Stellar, the real family. Not mine. Never mine.

I felt like an intruder in a dream I had no right to be in.

Sonic and Shadow spoke casually as they tidied the room, their rhythm easy, practiced. Partners. Parents. And I sat there, trying to keep my smile steady, burying the pain that clawed at my chest.

When I finally stood to leave, Sonic grabbed on to my shoulder warmly. “You’re the best, Ames. We owe you big time.”

I nodded quickly, my voice tight. “Anytime.”

Shadow’s eyes lingered on me a second longer, as though he saw through the cracks in the mask. But he said nothing.

I stepped outside, the cool night air washing over me. Only when I was far from their house did I let the tears fall.

Because for a little while, I had lived the dream. And then reality came home.

Chapter Text

The itch wouldn’t go away.

It started small, barely noticeable. Just a flicker of unease every time Amy came to watch Stellar. Nothing tangible, nothing I could point to. But it grew, slowly, curling at the back of my mind like a whisper I couldn’t ignore.

I trusted Amy. She had proven herself loyal countless times, brave in ways few ever were. And Stellar adored her, no denying that. She laughed easier, smiled brighter, whenever Amy was near.

But still… something wasn’t right.

That evening, I stood by the window, arms folded, watching the lights of the city flicker in the distance. Sonic lounged on the couch behind me, Stellar curled fast asleep in his lap. His hand traced absent circles across her body, his eyes lazily open with a warm softness he reserved only for moments like this.

“You’re quiet,” he said after a while.

“I’m always quiet,” I replied with my eyes fixed out the window.

Sonic chuckled lowly. “Yeah, but this is different. You’re a ‘broody quiet’, this is a ‘I can’t figure it out quiet’.”

I turned from the window, my gaze falling on him, on Stellar nestled safely against his chest, on the peace carved into his face. It made my chest tighten.

“Amy,” I said finally.

Sonic tilted his head. “What about her?”

I hesitated. The words felt clumsy, ill-formed. But the itch wouldn’t let me stay silent. “Every time she watches Stellar, I get this feeling I can’t shake, like something is off.”

Sonic blinked at me, then grinned faintly. “Off? Like, she’s feeding her too much sugar? Or teaching her to whack Badniks with a hammer?”

“This isn’t a joke.” My voice came out harsher than I intended.

His grin faded. Sonic sat up a little straighter, careful not to disturb Stellar. “Okay. Then what do you mean?”

I moved closer, my arms tightening across my chest. “I don’t know. It’s nothing I can prove. But there’s a look in her eyes, when she holds Stellar. Something… strange.”

Sonic frowned, his brow furrowing in thought. “Strange how?”

“Like she’s holding more than just a child,” I said. “Like she’s holding something she lost.”

The words hung heavy between us.

Sonic looked down at Stellar, brushing a thumb across her tiny quills. For a long moment, he said nothing, just rocked her gently against his chest. Then he looked up at me, his eyes steady.

“Shads,” he said softly, “Amy’s been through a lot. You know that. She’s still working through… feelings. About me.”

I stiffened, though I’d always known it was true.

“She loves Stellar because Stellar is easy to love,” Sonic continued. “And yeah, maybe she sees things in her that she wishes were different. But she’d never hurt her. Not in a million years.”

“That’s not what I said.”

“I know.” He stood carefully, cradling Stellar in one arm as he crossed the room. When he stopped in front of me, his arm wrapped itself around my waist, pulling me close to him and Stellar. “You’re protective. That’s who you are. And it’s one of the many reasons I love you” Sonic said with such sincerity it couldn’t be ignored. 

“You don’t need to worry,” he whispered leaning his forehead against the side of my head. “Amy’s our friend. She helps because she cares. And Stellar’s safe. Always.”

My body loosened in his hold, though the unease still lingered faintly. I looked down at Stellar, her small body rising and falling with each breath. So fragile. So precious.

Sonic pulled back for a moment, I immediately mourned the loss of contact but then he lifted his hand placing a finger under my chin forcing my eyes to meet his. “Trust me.”

All of it settled into me. Sonic's word's and touches would never cease to amaze me.

Finally I gave in. Pulling both of them into my arms, I closed my eyes. His warmth bled into me, steady, grounding. The itch quieted, if only for the moment.

Later, when Stellar was settled in her crib, Sonic tugged me gently toward the bed. We cuddled together, his arm lazily draped over me, my hand resting against his sides.

“You’re allowed to worry,” he murmured, his voice half a yawn. “But you don’t have to carry it alone. That’s what I'm here for. You and me.”

I huffed softly. “You make it sound so simple.”

“Sometimes it is.” He smirked, leaning in to press a kiss against my cheek.

I turned to face him fully, and the smirk faded into something softer. Our lips met, slow and unhurried, and for a moment the world narrowed to just us, the steady thrum of his heartbeat, the warmth of his hands against me, the taste of reassurance in the kiss we shared.

When we pulled back, he grinned. “See? Nothing to worry about.”

I allowed myself a small smile, the kind I reserved only for him. “You’re insufferable.”

“And you love it.”

I did. God help me, I did.

The itch at the back of my mind wasn’t gone. But wrapped in Sonic’s warmth, his body still tangled within mine, I let myself believe, just for tonight, that everything would be alright.

Chapter Text

The days I spent with Stellar had become the brightest parts of my life.

It was never supposed to be this way, I told myself that over and over. I was only helping, doing a kindness for Sonic and Shadow, watching their daughter so they could fight their battles without worry for her. But every time I held her, every time her tiny fingers curled around mine, I slipped deeper into the dream I had built for myself.

In those oh so precious moments, she wasn’t theirs. She was mine.

And the more I let myself believe it, the harder it became to stop.

On one such afternoon, I sat on the floor of their living room with Stellar toddling beside me. She was growing so quickly, stronger legs, brighter eyes, little sounds tumbling from her mouth like treasures.

“Ba,” she announced proudly, clapping her hands.

I laughed, my chest warm. “Yes, ba! You’re so clever.”

She giggled at the praise, wobbling toward me, her chaos-touched eyes sparkling. I caught her gently before she could fall, pulling her into my lap. She smelled faintly of soap and sunlight.

“You’re perfect,” I whispered against her quills. And then, softer, “My perfect girl.”

The words slipped out before I could stop them, but I didn’t care to take them back. Not anymore.

I started to notice the sounds she favored. “Da” came easiest to her tongue, and she squealed it happily whenever Sonic walked into the room. It made sense, he was always laughing, always ready to scoop her up in his arms and play games or spins.

But she hadn’t yet settled on anything for me. And the thought made something ache deep inside.

That’s when the idea struck me.

Dangerous. Reckless. But oh, how it called to me.

What if I could coax her into saying ‘mama’? Just once. Just for me.

The thought rooted itself in my mind, blooming wild and bright. If Stellar called me mama, even while playing, even without knowing the meaning, wouldn’t that make the fantasy real? At least for the moment?

The hunger for it was sharp, desperate. I couldn’t resist.

The next time I watched her, I tried.

We sat together with her blocks, her little hands slapping them into messy towers. Between each laugh, I repeated softly, gently, like a lullaby:

“Mama. Mama.”

She tilted her head, curious, her lips shaping the sound. “Ma.”

My heart stuttered.

“That’s right,” I whispered, barely breathing. “Mama.”

She tried again, the syllable rough and imperfect, but oh so close. 

“Mama!”

Tears sprang to my eyes. She beamed at my reaction, clapping her hands proudly as though she’d discovered something wonderful.

My throat ached with a mixture of joy and guilt. I gathered her into my arms, pressing my cheek against her soft quills. “That’s me,” I murmured. “I’m Mama.”

Of course, she didn’t understand. To her, it was just another sound, just a game we played. But to me… it was everything.

I told myself I’d stop there. That it was enough. But the more I heard it, the more I wanted it.

Stellar, sweet and unknowing, began to repeat it whenever she saw me. “Mama,” she’d chirp, reaching for me with tiny arms. Every time, my heart soared and broke all at once.

I should’ve corrected her. I should’ve told her no, that it wasn’t who I was. But I couldn’t. I didn’t want to.

Instead, I let the fantasy tighten around me, binding me closer with each soft syllable.

One afternoon, it happened with Sonic in the room.

He had come home early again, finding me on the carpet with Stellar perched in my lap. She was babbling happily, waving her arms. When she spotted him, her eyes lit up.

“Da!” she squealed.

Sonic laughed, scooping her up into the air. “That’s right, Baby girl! Daddy’s here!”

I smiled through the ache in my chest. It was always him. Always ‘Da.’

But then, as Stellar glanced back at me, her tiny hand reaching, she chirped it clear as day.

“Mama!”

The sound froze me.

Sonic blinked, startled. “Huh. Did she just…?”

My heart thundered. For one terrifying second, I thought he’d see it. See the truth I’d hidden so carefully. But then he laughed, shaking his head.

“Guess she’s just trying out new sounds, huh?” He tickled her belly, making her giggle. “First Da, now Ma. Pretty soon she’ll be writing novels.”

Relief flooded me so fast my knees went weak. He didn’t see. He didn’t know.

But Stellar knew.

She reached toward me again, repeating it happily: “Mama!”

And I took her back into my arms, my smile trembling but unbroken.

That night, long after I’d gone home, I lay awake staring at the ceiling.

She had said it. Not once, not by accident, but again and again, her little voice ringing in my ears like a promise.

“Mama.”

And I had let her. I had encouraged it.

A part of me knew I was walking a dangerous line, that if Shadow ever heard it, he’d see right through me. The thought made my stomach twist. But another part, the part that ached for something I could never truly have, didn’t care.

Because Stellar had named me. Because, in her eyes, I was Mama. And that was enough to keep the dream alive.

Chapter Text

I’ve always been fast. Running, fighting, thinking on my feet, that’s my thing. But parenting? Parenting slowed me down in ways I never expected. And honestly? I don't mind one bit.

Stellar is a toddler now. It felt like just yesterday that Stellar was a tiny bundle in my arms, small enough to curl up against a single shoulder, her world made up of lullabies and gentle rocking. But time moved faster than we’d ever imagined, days slipping into months, months into years, and suddenly my fragile baby girl was toddling on unsteady legs. 

Her laughter rang out like bells as she explored every corner she could reach. Each new word, each spark of personality, painted her less as the baby she once was and more as the little person she was becoming. Full of energy that could rival mine. Every day she was learning something new, as the endless questions that came in, making me laugh and scratch my head in equal measure.

But this question? This one caught me off guard.

We were sitting on the porch that afternoon, the sun warm against my fur. Shadow was beside me, pretending to read while keeping one eye on Stellar as she stumbled around the yard. She had her toy blocks clutched in her hands, muttering happily to herself as she stacked them in wobbly towers.

Then, out of nowhere, she turned to us, tilting her head in that way that always meant something serious was about to come out of her little mouth.

“Daddy? Papa?”

Shadow lowered his book. I leaned forward a little, grinning. “Yeah, kiddo?”

She frowned in thought, her tiny brows furrowed, and asked, “Why do I have two dads? Where’s my mom?”

The question hit like a spin dash straight to the chest. Not in a bad way, just in that way that told me this was one of those moments. The big ones. The ones she’d remember.

I glanced at Shadow, who was already watching me with that calm, unreadable look he wore like armor. He didn’t say anything, just gave me the space to speak.

So I did.

I patted the porch step beside me. “C’mere, squirt.”

Stellar wobbled over, climbing awkwardly into my lap. She still smelled faintly of grass and sunshine.

“You’ve got two dads,” I said, keeping my tone light but steady, “because every family is a little different. Some kids have a mom and a dad. Some have just one. Some families have two moms. And you? You’ve got me and Papa.”

She blinked up at me, her little nose scrunched. “But… why?”

Shadow closed his book with a soft thud, shifting closer. His voice was deeper, steadier. “Because family isn’t about what it looks like, Stellar. It’s about love. Who’s there for you. Who protects you. Who you can always trust.”

She turned to look at him, her eyes wide. “You and Daddy?”

“That’s right,” Shadow said, his expression softening in that rare way he saved just for her. “Me and Daddy.”

I squeezed her gently, brushing a hand over her tiny quills. “You know how your toy blocks can stack in all kinds of ways? Tall, short, funny shapes? Families are like that. No two look the same, but they all work.”

 “Families are blocks?” She giggled.

I laughed too, ruffling her head. “Exactly.”

But I could see she was still thinking hard, her little face serious in that way toddlers had when the world didn’t quite line up yet.

“So… it’s okay?” she asked finally.

“Of course it’s okay,” I said immediately. “More than okay. It’s awesome. You get two dads who love you more than anything else in the whole world.”

Shadow leaned in, resting a hand on her small shoulder. “What matters isn’t what you don’t have. But what you do have.” His eyes met mine briefly, something unspoken passing between us. “And you have us. Always.”

For a moment, Stellar was quiet. Then she threw her arms around us both, her little voice muffled against our chest. “I love you, Daddy. I love you, Papa.”

I felt my throat tighten in a way I didn’t expect. I glanced at Shadow, and in that moment his guard slipped completely, his eyes soft, his mouth curved up into a small and unguarded smile.

“We love you too, Stellar,” he said quietly.

“More than anything,” I added, holding both of them close.

Later, after Stellar had run off to chase a butterfly with the determination of a speedster-in-training, Shadow and I stayed on the porch. The sun was dipping low, painting everything in shades of gold.

“You handled that well,” Shadow murmured, his voice thoughtful.

I smirked, leaning back on my hands. “Guess I’ve got a knack for this whole parenting gig.”

“You’ve got a knack for speaking from the heart,” he corrected.

“Same thing, really.”

He gave me one of his trademark looks, half exasperation, half affection. Then he leaned over, pressing his lips against mine. It wasn’t long, just a soft kiss, but it carried all the weight of the moment.

When we pulled back, I grinned. “See? Two dads. Works out pretty great if you ask me.”

Shadow’s smile was faint, but it reached his eyes. “Yes. It does.”

We sat there together, watching Stellar chase the butterflies across the yard, her laughter carrying through the evening air. And for the first time all day, I felt the world slow down, perfectly content to stay right where I was.

With him. With her. With us.

With this wonderful family.

Chapter Text

There was a certain rhythm to watching Stellar.

It was different from chasing after Sonic, different from leading missions, or helping rebuild towns after Eggman’s latest disaster. This rhythm was softer, slower. It was the sound of small footsteps tapping across the hardwood floor, the crinkling of picture books being flipped through with clumsy fingers, the way her laugh rang out like wind chimes when she built towers only to knock them over.

I lived for that rhythm.

Whenever Sonic and Shadow needed someone to watch her, they always called me. And I always said yes. Too quickly, maybe, but I couldn’t bring myself to care. Every hour I spent with her filled that empty space inside me I never knew how to fix.

Today was no different. The house was quiet, sunlight streaming through the windows in golden beams, and Stellar was sprawled across the rug in the living room with crayons scattered around her. She had a determined look on her little face, her tongue poking out of the corner of her mouth as she tried to stay inside the lines of a flower.

I sat nearby, watching, pretending to flip through a magazine I wasn’t really reading. My eyes kept drifting back to her. They always did.

She was so much like Sonic in spirit, restless, bright, full of energy, and yet she had a streak of quiet thoughtfulness that reminded me of Shadow. I saw both of them in her, but when she looked up at me with those wide, trusting eyes… sometimes, just sometimes, I let myself imagine I saw myself in there too.

“Done!” she declared suddenly, holding up her crayola masterpiece. The flower was a lopsided rainbow, the sun above it scribbled into something resembling a spiky ball.

I clapped my hands together. “Beautiful, sweetheart. You’re really getting good at coloring.”

Her little cheeks flushed pink as she grinned proudly. “I’m gonna draw our family next!”

My breath hitched, as my smile faltered for a moment in surprise. “Our family?”

“Mm-hm!” She grabbed another piece of paper and started drawing furiously. A circle for a head, two stick arms, uneven lines for quills.

“That’s Daddy,” she said, pointing to the first figure. Sonic, I thought immediately.

She drew another, darker quills this time, and a straighter stance. “That’s Papa.” Shadow.

Then, with a pause, she added a third figure. Smaller, her little hands more careful with the crayon. “That’s me.”

I swallowed the lump in my throat. “And who else?”

She looked up at me, eyes shining. “You, Mama.”

I froze. I hadn’t told her to call me that. Not this time anyway. It had just… happened. A slip, maybe, something she’d remembered from when she was younger and repeated. And I hadn’t stopped her. I couldn’t.

I leaned forward, brushing a stray strand of hair from her face. “You really think I’m your mama?”

Her little head bobbed up and down. “Mm-hm. You take care of me. You read me stories. You hug me when I’m sad. That’s what mamas do, right?”

My chest expanded in joy. Every word was a cure to something I never thought I could heal. She didn’t mean to do any of it for me, she couldn’t. She was just a child, so innocent, so open. But hearing it, letting myself believe it even for a second, filled that hollow space inside me with something dangerously warm.

“Yes,” I whispered, my voice trembling before I steadied it. “That’s what mamas do.”

She beamed at me, and before I could stop myself, I pulled her into my arms, holding her close, breathing in the faint smell of soap and sunlight.

But then she pulled back, her eyes wide with another thought. “So… if I call you Mama… does that mean you really are my mom?”

The question knocked the air right out of me. For a moment, all I could do was stare at her. She was so earnest, so ready to believe whatever answer I gave.

I should have corrected her by now. I should have said no. I should have told her that her real parents were Sonic and Shadow, that I was just here to help.

But the words wouldn’t come. Not when her little face was so full of hope. Not when she was looking at me like I was something I’ve always wanted to be.

A smile came easy to my face, even as guilt coiled in my gut. “Yes, sweetheart,” I said softly. “It means I’m your mama.”

Her squeal of delight was like sunlight breaking through a storm of clouds. She wrapped her arms around my neck, squeezing tight. “Mama! Mama! Mama!”

My eyes burned, and I blinked hard against the sting. I held her as if letting go would shatter the illusion.

After a long moment, I whispered, “But it has to be our little secret, okay?”

She leaned back, confusion flickering across her face. “Secret? Why?”

“Because…” My voice faltered, and I scrambled for an answer. “Because Daddy and Papa wouldn’t understand. They love you so very much, but this… this is just something special between us. Our little secret. So you have to call me Amy in front of everyone else. Okay?”

Her little brow furrowed, but she nodded slowly. “Okay, Mama. Our secret.”

I kissed her forehead, trying to ignore the weight in my stomach.

The rest of the afternoon passed in a blur of games and giggles. We played hide and seek, baked cookies that ended up burnt around the edges, and curled up with a picture book where she nestled into my side, her tiny fingers gripping mine as I turned the pages.

Every time she looked up at me with that radiant smile and called me 'Mama', the fantasy wrapped tighter around me, weaving itself into something I wasn’t sure I’d ever be able to untangle.

She believed it now. Truly believed it. And in her innocent belief, she was pulling me deeper, making it harder to separate reality from the dream I’d built in my heart.

And the worst part?

I didn’t want to let it go.

Not yet.

Maybe not ever.

Chapter Text

The town was alive with color. Lanterns hung from wires strung across the streets, their soft glow complimenting with the fading sunlight. Stalls lined the sidewalks, each bursting with the smells of fried food, sweet pastries, and spices. Laughter carried in waves as children darted past, clutching balloons or dripping ice cream cones. Music thrummed faintly from a stage down the block.

A festival.

I’d never seen the appeal. Crowds, noise, chaos that grated against every nerve I had. But Stellar’s excitement was impossible to ignore. The moment Sonic suggested the idea, she’d lit up like the fireworks promised later tonight. Her little quills bounced as she tugged his hand, pestering him with question after question about rides and games.

I’d never deny her that.

When we asked if she wanted to bring a friend, I expected a name we didn’t recognize. A child from the park, perhaps, or a kid from the library’s story hour. Instead, she tilted her head and said brightly, “I want Amy to come!”

Amy.

The name left a bitter taste on my tongue. I hadn’t been able to shake it since.

Now here we were. Sonic was at Stellar’s side, letting her drag him from booth to booth, her laughter rising above the crowd like it had wings. And Amy was there too, close enough to catch Stellar when she stumbled over uneven pavement, quick to point out games and candy that made my little star eyes widen.

I followed behind them with arms crossed, scanning the crowd but never straying far. My gaze drifted back to Amy more than once. Always Amy.

Something about her didn’t sit right.

It wasn’t that she wasn’t kind. She was. Too kind, maybe. Patient in ways even I struggled with. Stellar trusted her, loved her even. I’d never seen Stellar smile as wide as when Amy was near.

But that was the problem, wasn’t it?

For weeks now, there had been a quiet itch at the back of my mind, the kind that refused to fade no matter how often I brushed it off or Sonic reassured me otherwise. Whenever Amy’s name came up, whenever she volunteered to watch Stellar, the itch dug deeper. I couldn’t explain it, couldn’t pin it down with evidence. Just a feeling, gnawing at me.

I didn’t like things I couldn’t explain.

Sonic’s voice broke into my thoughts. “She’s really tearing it up out here, huh?”

I glanced to my side. He was smiling, one arm swinging easily at his side and the other grabbing on to my hand, as we watched Stellar and Amy laugh at some oversized plush toy in a stall. 

“Haven’t seen her this excited in a while.”

I grunted in response.

His grin faltered just a fraction. “What?”

“Nothing.”

“Shadow.” He said, drawing out my name while bumping into me. “That’s your ‘something’s bugging me’ face. Spill it.”

My jaw tightened. He was too good at reading me. Too good at crumbling the walls I kept carefully in place.

Finally, I exhaled. “She doesn’t have friends her age.”

Sonic blinked. “Stellar?”

“Yes.” My eyes flicked to her again. She was holding Amy’s hand now, tugging her toward a carousel. The sight twisted my stomach. “She should have. But she doesn’t. And when we asked who she wanted to bring tonight…”

“…she picked Amy,” Sonic finished, his voice quieter now.

I gave a curt nod. “This isn’t normal.”

For a moment, he didn’t say anything. Then he ran a hand through his quills and sighed. “I mean, yeah, I guess it’s not ideal. But c’mon, Shads. Amy’s good with her. Stellar adores her.”

“That’s exactly my point.” My tone sharpened, enough that Sonic’s ears flicked back slightly. “Amy isn’t her peer. She’s an adult. Stellar needs other children, not-” not Amy.  But I cut myself off before the words slipped into something harsher than I intended. 

Sonic’s arm come to a stop at his side, mirroring mine. “So what are you saying? You don’t want Amy around her anymore?”

I hesitated. That wasn’t it. Not exactly. My instincts screamed there was more to Amy’s closeness than simple affection, but I had no proof. Only that persistent itch I couldn’t silence.

“I’m saying,” I began carefully, “that Stellar shouldn’t rely on her for companionship. It isn’t healthy.”

Sonic frowned. “You make it sound like Amy’s hurting her. She’s not. If anything, she’s been a huge help to us.”

“I didn’t say she was hurting Stellar.” My voice remains steady, firm. “But it isn’t sustainable. Stellar needs balance. She should be learning how to play with children her own age, not… not wrapping herself around Amy like she’s-” I bit the rest back, my fists tightening at my sides.

Like she’s her mother.

The thought alone was enough to set my teeth on edge.

Sonic caught it anyway. Of course he did. His eyes narrowed, loosening his grip on my hand. “Like she’s what?”

My silence was enough of an answer.

For a heartbeat, tension crackled between us, sharp as the crack of a live wire. Around us, the festival roared with life, laughter, music, the chime of game bells but all I could hear was the thrum of my own pulse.

Then Sonic exhaled, rubbing the back of his neck. “Look. I get it. You’re worried. And maybe you’re not wrong. But lashing out at Amy isn’t fair either. She loves Stellar, yeah, but that doesn’t make her a threat.”

His words stung, not because they were harsh, but because they were gentle. Because part of me wanted to believe them.

My gaze softened despite myself as I watched Stellar spin in a circle, Amy clapping along to her laughter. She looked happy. Safe. Maybe Sonic was right. Maybe I was imagining threats where there were none.

Still, that itch refused to fade away.

“So what do you propose?” I finally asked.

Sonic squeezed my hand once again, smile returned, smaller this time, colored with relief. “Daycare. There’s a few not far from here Knuckles mentioned it, said it’s got good staff. If Stellar’s around kids her age a few days a week, she’ll get the balance you’re talking about.”

Daycare. The word sat heavily on my tongue. I hadn’t considered it. I didn’t like the idea of leaving her with strangers, not when she was so small, so fragile. But… he wasn’t wrong.

And maybe it would put some distance between her and Amy.

“Daycare,” I repeated, testing it out on my tongue.

“Yeah.” Sonic’s grin widened. “We’ll check it out together. Talk to the staff, see if it feels right. If it doesn’t, we keep looking. But I think it could be good for her.”

The tension between us eased up, though not completely. I gripped his hand tighter and reached for his face, stopping us in our tracks. I gently place my hand on his cheek, caressing along it.

“You always find a way to calm me down,” I voice.

“That’s what I do,” he jokes with a wink. Then, softer, “We’re in this together, Shadow. Always.”

I bring him into a gently kiss, one that quiets this world to just us. Him and I. Always.

The itch still lingered at the back of my head, but his words dulled it for now. Maybe I was overthinking. Maybe Amy’s presence wasn’t as dangerous as I had imagined it to be.

But as I watched Stellar laugh with Amy, the unease coiled tight again, quiet and insistent.

I couldn’t shake the feeling that this wasn’t over.

Chapter Text

The house was quiet except for the soft pitter patter of Stellar’s feet across the living room rug. She was balancing her stuffed choa toy in both arms, humming some tune she’d made up on the spot. Every few steps she would stop, glance at me with those wide, starlit eyes, and giggle as if daring me not to laugh with her.

Of course, I laughed. I always did.

These moments, just her and I, they filled something hollow inside of me that I never thought I could hope to satisfy until she came along. Watching her grow, hearing her tiny voice, feeling her warm weight in my arms… it was like I’d been given a second chance at something I’d lost long ago. Something I’d dreamed of for years.

Something I still dreamed of.

“Mama, look!” Stellar squeaked suddenly, holding the choa over her head as if it had sprouted wings.

The word hit me like it always did, soft as silk, sharp as glass.

Mama.

I smile with very little effort at her antics, even as the guilt tugged at me in the pit of my stomach. “I see, sweetheart. They're flying so high!”

She twirled in a circle, almost tipping over. I lunged forward to steady her. Her laugh rang out, bright and untroubled, and I hugged her close. In that moment, she was mine. Just mine.

Not Shadow's. Not even Sonic's. But mine.

The front door clicked open.

I froze.

Sonic’s voice carried down the hallway, bright and casual as ever. “We’re back!”

Stellar gasped, wriggling in my arms. “Daddy, Papa!” She tore herself free and bolted down the hallway towards the door, crashing into Sonic’s legs. He swept her up with an easy spin, making her squeal with delight.

Shadow followed him in, his steps measured as always. He gave me a polite nod. “Amy.”

I swallowed, trying to keep my expression calm, warm, normal. “Welcome back. How was your day?”

Sonic grinned, tossing Stellar in the air. “We checked out a few daycares. Think we found one that feels right, huh?” He pressed his nose to Stellar’s cheek, making her giggle uncontrollably. “Lots of toys, nice teachers. You’re gonna love it, baby girl.”

My smile faltered. Daycare?

Before I could process the word, Sonic was already carrying Stellar toward the kitchen, her laughter trailing behind them. 

“C’mon, let’s get you cleaned up before dinner.”

That left me alone with Shadow.

The silence was thick, heavier than I liked. His crimson eyes held steady on me, sharp but unreadable. Finally, he spoke.

“We’ve decided,” he said, his tone calm, almost gentle, though the weight of his words pressed into me like boulder. “Stellar will be starting daycare soon.”

The world tipped under my feet.

Daycare.

He went on, unaware, or maybe fully aware of how tightly my hands had curled into fists in my lap. “It will be good for her. She needs to be around other children her age, to learn how to socialize properly. Sonic and I agree it’s the best step forward.”

I forced myself to nod. “I… I see.” My voice sounded thin and far away.

His gaze softened, though it never lost its edge. “We appreciate everything you’ve done for her. Truly. But with daycare, you won’t need to watch her so often anymore.”

My heart dropped like a stone in water.

No more watching her? Not need me anymore?

Panic surged through me, sharp and suffocating. I couldn’t lose this, I couldn’t lose her. The little world I’d built around Stellar, the fragile pretend world where I was her mama, where Sonic was-

No. I swallowed hard, pushing the thought down, burying it where Shadow couldn’t see. He couldn’t know. No one could know.

“I understand,” I lied, my lips pulling into a smile that felt like it would crack at the edges any second. “It sounds… wonderful for her.”

Shadow studied me for a long, quiet moment, and I thought, I feared, he might see straight through me. But then he gave a short nod, satisfied enough, and turned toward the kitchen to join Sonic and Stellar.

As soon as his back was to me, my smile collapsed.

The room blurred as I pressed a trembling hand to my mouth. Daycare meant less time. Less time with Stellar in my arms, less time hearing her call me mama in those unguarded, precious moments. Less time pretending, just for a little while, that she was mine.

What would happen when she grew used to the daycare, to other children, to other adults? Would she stop asking for me? Would she forget the little fantasy we shared, the secret I’d guarded so carefully?

The thought hollowed me out in one swift, merciless stroke.

No. I couldn’t let that happen.

I straightened, wiping quickly at my eyes before anyone could see. My heart still pounded, panic still clawed at my ribs, but I smoothed my face into something serene, something safe.

I would keep this. Somehow, I would hold onto it.

Even if it meant going deeper than I had to before.

Chapter Text

The morning sun poured through the curtains in soft, golden stripes. It stretched across the floor and warmed my blanket where I had been sitting, and for a moment, I just sat there with my little heart beating so fast I thought it might fly right out of me.

Today was the day.

My purple backpack lay open on the carpet, waiting for me. I packed it carefully, one treasure at a time. My stuffed Chao went first, their floppy head sticking out until I tucked them snug inside. Then came my water bottle, the pink shiny one with stars that glittered in the sunlight. I smoothed the blanket across my lap before folding it (not very well, but good enough!) and cramming it into the bag too. It already smelled like home, like pancakes, Papa’s soap, and the grass outside.

I hugged the bag against my chest, and my whole body buzzed with excitement.

“I’m ready!” I called out, bouncing on my toes.

Daddy rushed in from the kitchen, his quills a messy halo from moving too fast. His grin was so wide it made his eyes sparkle. “Look at you, little star! First day of daycare!”

He crouched beside me and zipped up the bag, brushing his hand over my quills. “You’re gonna make so many friends. Play with toys, draw pictures-”

“And paint!” I shouted, clapping my hands.

He laughed and ruffled my quills. “And paint.”

Papa stepped into the room next, travel mug in hand. His face was serious, like always, but his eyes softened just a little when he looked at me bouncing in place. He crouched, brushing invisible dust from my shirt. “Are you excited?”

I nodded so hard my head spun. “Yes!”

“If you feel scared,” he said slowly, carefully, “or uncertain, you can tell the teachers. they will help you.”

The word ‘scared’ caught in my chest for a second, but I nodded anyway. I wasn’t scared. Today was going to be the best day ever! 

The walk to daycare was warm and bright, the sunlight sparkling across the sidewalk. I skipped between them, swinging my arms and my backpack, the whole world feeling new.

The building came into view, painted cheerful colors, windows shining wide. Children ran across the front lawn, their laughter bubbling in the air. My stomach fluttered, but I gripped my daddies’ hands tighter. It looked like a dream.

Inside, though, the dream changed.

The ceiling lights buzzed like a thousand bees. The walls shouted with drawings and papers, too many colors all at once. Shelves groaned with puzzles and toys, and though they weren’t making any noise, my head filled with the clatter of them anyway.

And the children.

They were everywhere. Running, laughing, crying, banging toys together. The noise filled the air like a storm. My chest tightened.

“Look, baby girl,” Daddy said, pointing at the shelves of puzzles. “They’ve got the kind you like at home.”

I nodded, but his voice was already buried under everything else.

Papa crouched next to me, meeting my eyes. “It will take time. You will adjust.”

I tried to smile, but my stomach squirmed.

The teacher came over, a tall lady with a gentle smile. “Hi, Stellar! We’re so glad to have you. Do you want to put your bag in your cubby?”

My bag to the cubby. Right.

I carried it with shaking hands and set it down where she pointed.

When I turned back, my daddies were at the door.

“Bye, Stell!” Daddy called, blowing a kiss my way.

“We’ll see you soon,” Papa said firmly, giving a small wave.

And then the door shut behind them.

The sound didn’t just come back, it grew louder.

I stood frozen, staring at the door like maybe if I stared hard enough or did it long enough, it would open again. That Daddy and Papa would come back and we could all go explore the forest again. But it didn’t. But it didn’t. The voices around me rushed in, pressing against my ears until my head throbbed from it all.

A tower of blocks crashed to the ground somewhere across the room. The bang shot through my body like lightning. My chest squeezed tight. A child wailed, high and sharp. Another shouted right next to me, too close. I backed up until my shoulders hit the wall.

I wanted my blanket. I wanted my Chao. I wanted my daddies. My backpack was across the room, surrounded by noise and movement and kids I didn’t know.

My eyes burned. I pressed my hands against my ears, but the buzzing lights hummed through my palms, the stomping of feet thudded through the floor, and the voices, so many voices, crashed against me until I couldn’t tell one from the other.

The teacher knelt a few steps away, her voice soft but drowned out by everything else. I could see her mouth move, her hands reaching out, but the words were gone before they reached me.

I shook my head, clutching my hands to my chest. My breathing came fast, too fast, each one smaller than the last.

She must have left because darkness fell across me.

Three kids, bigger than me, louder than me, their smiles wide and sharp.

“Wanna play?” one shouted.

I shook my head hard. “No.” I said barely above a whisper.

They didn’t stop.

Hands pulled at me, tugged me toward the playground door. “Come on! You’re it!”

“No!” My voice broke. I pulled back, but they laughed like I hadn’t said anything at all. My chest burned, my stomach twisted, and suddenly I couldn’t breathe around the noise and the hands and the too-bright lights.

I hated it.

I hated all of it.

Something inside me snapped.

I twisted hard, shoving past them, and ran. My feet pounded across the floor, down the hall where the lights dimmed just enough to breathe again. My lungs burned, but I didn’t stop.

And then, I saw it.

The fence around the playground. A gap where the wood didn’t meet the wall.

Without thinking, I pushed through. The scrape on my arm stung, but the air outside hit my face, cool and free. I kept running.

The world blurred around me, grass, sidewalks, houses rushing past. My feet beat against the ground, my chest ached, but I couldn’t stop. Tears streamed down my cheeks, mixing with the taste of salt and air in my mouth. I didn’t know where I was going, only that I had to get away. Away from the brightness, away from the hands pulling me, away from the noise.

And then…

Pink fur. A familiar shape. A face I knew was safe.

“Mama!” The word ripped out of me before I could think, before I could stop them.

she turned, surprise flashing in her eyes just as I crashed into her.

She caught me instantly, arms wrapping tight around me, strong and soft all at once.

“It’s okay, baby,” she whispered, rocking me gently. Her voice was a low hum, steady against the pounding in my ears. “Mama’s got you. Mama’s here.”

I buried my face in her chest, clutching her dress with trembling hands. My sobs came in hiccups and gasps, each one dragging out of me like they’d been waiting for this moment. The noise of the world was still out there, still too loud, still too sharp, but here, pressed against Mama’s heartbeat, it faded.

She stroked my quills, whispering the same words again and again, letting them sink in.

“It’s okay.” “You’re safe.” “Mama’s got you.”

Little by little, the tightness in my chest eased. The storm in my head slowed to a drizzle.

And I held on tighter, because here in her arms, it was finally quiet again.

And I never wanted to let go.

Chapter Text

“Mama!”

The word cut through me like the summer air of a chime, sharp and impossibly sweet. My heart stuttered, a confusing rush of heat washing through me. I turned, hardly daring to believe it, and then…

A blur of white and blue fur barreled toward me.

“Stellar?”

Before I could do more than gasp, she was leaping into my arms, clutching at me with desperate strength. Her little body trembled like a leaf in the wind, and then she broke, sobs tearing out of her chest, muffled against my shoulder.

“Oh, sweetheart,” I breathed, tightening my hold around her. My arms closed as though they were made for this, my hands rubbing circles on her back, my voice dipping instinctively to a hush tone. “It’s okay, baby, it’s okay. Mama’s here. Mama’s got you.”

The word rang in my ears again, dangerously warm. Mama.

I wanted to weep for the joy of it, for the way she said it without hesitation, without correction, as if it had always been true. But her sobs were sharp little knives against my heart, and so I swallowed the happiness down, for now, and bent all of myself toward calming her.

It took a long time.

She clung to me with shaking arms, burying her face against me, dampening my dress with tears. Every now and then her sobs would spike again, raw and broken, and I whispered sweet words until my throat hurt.

“Hush now… you’re safe. Mama’s not letting go. You’re coming home with me, my starshine, you’re safe.”

Minutes stretched. My legs grew numb from kneeling on the grass, but I didn’t dare shift her away. Finally, the storm inside her softened to small hiccups, though her arms stayed tight around my neck.

I tipped my head back, trying to see her face. “Sweertie can you tell me what happened?”

She sniffled, cheeks blotchy, nose running. “It was too loud,” she mumbled, the words wobbling.

“What was too loud?” I coaxed gently.

She nodded against me. “The kids… they pulled me. I didn’t want… it was too bright, too many voices… I didn’t like it.” Her lip trembled again, and her little fists knotted in my dress.

My chest squeezed. Overstimulated. Overwhelmed. All alone. A child lost in upheaval.

“Oh, my precious girl,” I murmured, kissing her damp forehead. “I’m so sorry. That must have been so scary.”

She nodded fiercely, hiding her face again. “I’m glad I found you,” she whispered, so quiet I almost didn’t hear.

And the dream wrapped tighter, went deeper, because she had found me. Out of all the people in the world, when the world broke her open, she ran away and found me. That had to mean something.

My heart wanted to sing with joy. She found me. She Chose me. Just me.

“Come on, let’s go home.”

I carried her to my house, as she still clung to me. Bringing her into my little living room, I set her down only when I needed to, easing her into her chair, still stroking her quills down as she sat.

Food, yes. Food was grounding.

“Would you like a grilled cheese?” I asked. “And maybe some apple slices?”

She gave a tiny nod, eyes still glossy.

I made it fast, humming softly as I worked, not for myself, but for her. A tune she knew. The one I’d sung before bed time a hundred times before.

Her shoulders dropped little by little as the smell of warm bread filled the kitchen. Picking her back up and setting her down on a stool in the kitchen I set the plate in front of her, her eyes brightened just enough for her to pick up the sandwich. She nibbled, then bit, then ate more eagerly, her sniffles softening.

I sat across from her, my own plate untouched, just watching.

“There you go,” I whispered. “See? It’s better now. Mama’s here.”

“Mama.” Her lips curved, faint but real, around the word as she swallowed. 

I nearly dropped my fork with the way she said that simple word. Filled with hope. Freely. With no tears this time. As if it belonged to me. And I suppose at this point it really did belong to me.

I smiled, shaky and soft. “Yes, baby. Mama’s here.”

After lunch, we curled back on the couch with her blanket and a few stuffed toys I had for her. I read one of her favorite picture books, giving each character a silly voice, and finally, finally, her laughter bubbled up again. Not big belly-laughs yet, but little giggles, fragile and healing.

Her head rested on my chest, eyes heavy, calm returning.

I stroked her quills slowly, my chest aching with how much I loved her. How much love I had always wanted to have for myself.

But how can I not? How can I let her go when she needs me, when she called me Mama like it was the most natural thing in the world? She is my precious shining star.

It was only when her eyelids drooped, her breathing steady, that the weight of it all sank on me.

She had fled daycare. Alone. She had somehow escaped from the building, ran through town, and found me.

What if she hadn’t? What if she’d gotten hurt, or lost?

Fear squeezed my lungs. My pretend world wrapped tighter around me, yes, but reality crept in too. This wasn’t safe. For her. For me.

I looked at her small, peaceful face. I couldn’t keep this from Sonic forever. Or Shadow.

But if I told them, if I admitted what she calls me, what I’d let myself become, they would take her from me completely.

Tears stung my eyes, but I blinked them away just as quickly, pressing a kiss to the top of her head.

One thing at a time.

For now, she was safe.

For now, she was mine.

I reached for my communicator with trembling fingers. It was time to call Sonic.

Chapter Text

The day was supposed to end easily.

Shadow and I had spent the morning running errands, just the boring adult kind of stuff: groceries, bills, laundry. All of it dulled under the thought of one thing: picking up Stellar from her first day at daycare.

I’d been picturing it all day, her little face lighting up when she spotted us, her endless babbling about new toys and new friends she made, the way she’d tug our hands and drag us toward the playground like she always did.

I’d been so sure of it all.

The moment we stepped through the daycare doors, though, something felt off.

The receptionist glanced up with a pinched smile that cracked too quickly. Her hands fidgeted on the desk, papers stacked haphazardly in front of her.

“Hi,” I said, sliding into my casual confidence because I wanted this to be normal. It was going to be normal. “We’re here for Stellar? White quills, blue streaks, bundles of sunshine, you can’t miss her.”

The receptionist’s face looked like it had been etched in stone.

“Ah… Stellar,” she echoed, voice thin. She shuffled her papers, looked at a clipboard, then back at us. “Right. Um… could you wait just a moment?”

Something in my chest tightened. “Wait a moment? What do you mean? Just call her out.”

Shadow shifted beside me, arms crossed, his eyes narrowing. “Where is she?”

The woman swallowed, forced another brittle smile, and darted into the back.

I frowned, tapping my foot, trying to fight the tingle rising in my gut. It was fine. She was probably in the middle of snack time or a nap or whatever they did here. This was fine.

But then muffled voices rose behind the door. Stressed ones. Urgent.

My nose began to itch in a familiar way too much for my liking.

Another staff member appeared, a man this time, eyes wide and darting. “Sir, ma’am, uh…” He stopped when he saw us. “You’re Stellar’s parents? She has two dads?”

“Yes,” I snapped. “Where is she?”

His throat bobbed. “We’re… looking for her.”

The words were wrong. They didn’t fit. My brain snagged on them like claws dragging against fabric.

‘Looking for her.’

“What do you mean looking for her?” My voice shot sharp, louder than I meant. “She’s supposed to be right here!”

“She was just on the playground…”

“And now she’s not?!” My hands balled into fists. My quills bristled with panic I couldn’t contain. “How the hell do you lose a kid?!”

“Calm down,” Shadow muttered lowly, but even he sounded strained. His eyes were hard, sharp as knives, but his fists were just as tight as mine.

The staff member flinched. “We’re searching the building now! Please, just, stay here, we’ll…”

“Stay here? While you run around admitting you don’t know where our daughter is?” My voice cracked. “You had one job!”

A ripple of frantic motion spread through the daycare as more staff scrambled, checking classrooms, opening closets, calling out her name.

None of it mattered. My ears roared with blood. My chest was collapsing in on itself.

She was gone. Our little girl was gone.

Shadow’s hand landed firm on my shoulder, grounding, though his own eyes were a storm-dark. “We’ll find her.”

But the words didn’t soothe me. My mind was already spiraling. What if she’d wandered into the street? What if someone grabbed her? What if-

I couldn’t breathe.

The world tilted sideways.

Then my communicator buzzed.

Amy’s name lit the screen.

I answered so fast my thumb nearly cracked the screen. “Amy?! Please tell me-”

Her voice was steady, careful. “Sonic. Stellar’s with me.”

Shadow’s head whipped toward me, catching every word. His shoulders loosened just slightly, though his jaw was still locked tight.

I almost dropped the communicator. Relief hit me so hard it felt like my knees just about gave out. “She’s with you? She’s okay?!”

“She’s safe. She found her way to my house, she’s been with me since. She was… upset, but she’s calm now.”

I pressed a hand over my eyes, forcing air into my lungs. “Oh thank Gaia. Thank you, you don’t even know-”

Behind me, staff were still scrambling behind me, confusion and panic everywhere. I didn’t care.

I looked at Shadow. His eyes were asking the same question mine were.

“We’re coming right now,” I said into the communicator. “Don’t let her out of your sight.”

“I won’t,” Amy promised softly.

The second I hung up, Shadow and I were moving.

We didn’t say a word to the staff. We didn’t owe them a word. Their cries of “Wait!” “What happened?” “Did you find her?” blurred behind us as the door slammed shut.

The world narrowed to one thought: get to Stellar.

I was running before I knew it, Shadow at my side, both of us streaks of motion through the city. My heart was still clawing in my chest, half-broken, half-mended.

She was safe. She was with Amy.

But the image of that frantic daycare, the hollow voices saying ‘we don’t know where she is,’ it wouldn’t leave me.

And I knew one thing for certain.

This wasn’t over.

Chapter Text

The pounding of my shoes against the pavement matched the rhythm in my chest. Each stride carried the image of Stellar’s face, the sound of Sonic breaking in front of the daycare staff. The thought that our daughter had been gone, vanished, unaccounted for, still gnawed in the back of my mind.

But then Amy’s words rang again. She’s with me. She’s safe.

That single thread of hope was the only thing holding me together as we ran.

When her house finally came into view, Sonic surged ahead, nearly tearing the door from its hinges as he burst inside. I followed more measured, but no less desperate, my breath catching the second I heard Stellar.

“Daddy! Papa!”

Her voice. Whole, bright, alive.

And there she was. Stellar, quills ruffled and eyes puffy from crying, but safe. Entirely safe.

Relief washed over me so violently that I nearly dropped to my hands and feet. The tension that had locked my shoulders all day finally broke as Stellar launched into Sonic’s arms. Sonic clutched her as if he’d never let go again, and I pressed forward, wrapping both of them up, pulling them into me.

The three of us, our little family, held tight in a knot of quills and trembling breaths. Stellar squirmed between us, giggling weakly through the remnants of her tears, and I buried my face into the crown of her head, inhaling the simple truth of her: here, alive, ours.

I hadn’t realized until this moment how close I’d come to losing everything.

When at last Stellar pulled back, distracted by the comfort of Sonic peppering kisses across her cheeks, my gaze lifted.

Amy was standing a few steps away and watching quietly.

There was something in her eyes, soft, fragile, as if she, too, had carried a weight all on her own today. And for a moment, I looked at her, truly seeing her not as the pink hedgehog with stubborn dreams, but as the one who had caught our daughter when the world failed her.

I stepped forward, placing a hand on Sonic’s back as he and Stellar settled into the couch, then turned to Amy. “A word,” I said quietly.

She blinked, startled, but nodded, following me into the hall.

The door muffled Sonic and Stellar’s laughter behind us. The silence pressed in, heavy.

I crossed my arms, searching for words that rarely came easily. Gratitude wasn’t something I spoke about often. But it was owed.

“You found her,” I said at last, my voice rougher than I intended. “You kept her safe. That… is not something I will forget.”

Amy’s hands fidgeted at her sides. “Of course. I’d never let anything happen to her, Shadow. You know that.”

“I do.” My eyes softened, just slightly. “But hearing it is different from living it. Today, you were the one who held her when she needed it most. For that…” I exhaled slowly, fighting the unfamiliar lump rising in my throat. “For that, I am grateful.”

Her gaze flicked away, as though the weight of my words was too much to hold. “She was so scared,” she whispered. “All she wanted was someone familiar. She just… ran straight to me.”

I studied her closely. There was something more lingering in her tone, something fragile and private. But I didn’t press. It wasn’t the moment.

Instead, I placed a hand on her shoulder. Solid, deliberate. “You did well, Amy. Better than anyone could’ve asked. You gave her what we couldn’t today.”

Her breath caught, her eyes shimmering before she blinked quickly, hiding it away. “I only did what any of us would have done.”

“Perhaps.” My grip tightened once before I let go. “But you were there when it mattered. That makes all the difference.”

When we returned to the living room, Stellar was already nestled between Sonic’s arms, tiny fingers gripping his chest fur as if anchoring herself to him. His eyes lifted to mine, calmer now, though still rimmed with the edge of what could have been.

I lowered myself beside them, one arm circling both Sonic and Stellar, reclaiming the fragile peace that had nearly shattered.

And though my mind would not soon forget the terror of that horrendous daycare, tonight it was enough to hold them close and remember:

We had her back.

We were whole.

And we would not let her slip through our fingers again.

Chapter Text

It had been weeks since the daycare incident, but the memory of Stellar’s tiny arms clinging to me, her voice cracking on that single word, mama, still lived sharp and vivid in my heart.

And she hadn’t been the same since.

At first, I thought she’d bounce back quickly, the way children often do. But she hadn’t.

At the park, where she used to chase butterflies and laugh on the swings, she now kept close to her fathers or to me, fingers laced tightly in ours. At the library, once her favorite place for pulling book after book from the shelves, she ignored the children’s corner and climbed into my lap instead, clinging to the same worn picture book she’d memorized ages ago.

When Sonic or Shadow gently suggested she join the other kids, Stellar’s quills would bristle in alarm. “No,” she would whisper, shaking her head, eyes wide and frightened. And that was the end of it.

Sonic and Shadow kept her close, closer than ever. I didn’t blame them. How could I? Their daughter had been terrified in a place meant to keep her safe. They were shaken, grieving in their own quiet ways. Still, something inside me ached whenever my time with her shrank. Days that used to be just me and my little girl, my borrowed, fragile piece of something I desperately wanted, became days with the three of us instead.

They never left her alone with me anymore. Always nearby. Always watching.

And the more restricted things became, the more fiercely I craved those soft, secret moments where Stellar pressed her head beneath my chin or called for me in that tiny, trusting voice. Every time I saw the fear in her eyes, I comforted her, but part of me held her tighter than I should have. 

Part of me whispered, Let me be the one you run to. Let me be the one you need.

It was selfish. I knew that. But fantasy has a way of sinking their roots deep into me now.

Today I was watching Stellar. And she had been stuck to me since morning, clinging to my dress, hiding behind me whenever Sonic or Shadow tried to coax her into joining them. And even though her fathers had hovered all day, to my thinly veiled irritation. Sonic and Shadow had hovered so much that it felt like watching her with a full security team. But she was happy, safe, and warm. 

When her little voice piped up before dinner with, “Aimee stay?” accompanied by those big, pleading eyes… well, none of us had the heart to say no. 

So I stayed.

Dinner was loud in that domestic way that made my heart twist. Shadow reminding Stellar to sit properly, Stellar ignoring him entirely to show Sonic how she could balance peas on her fork, Sonic impressed at her antics while also making funny faces at her, and me trying not to laugh.

By the time the meal ended, Stellar was covered in more food than she’d eaten.

Shadow stood, scooping the messy little hedgehog into his arms like she weighed nothing. “Come on. Bath time.”

Stellar giggled and grabbed at his chest fur. “Bubbles?”

“We’ll see,” he muttered, but he kissed her forehead, soft and warn, before carrying her down the hallway.

That left just me and Sonic in the kitchen.

We started cleaning automatically, stacking plates, rinsing cups, brushing crumbs off the table. The kind of quiet teamwork we’d fallen into over the years, comfortable and familiar.

As I collected plates while Sonic wiped the table, suddenly said, “You know… Stellar did something hilarious yesterday.”

“Oh?” I glanced up.

“She was trying to copy Shadow’s quill-care routine. Even wants to use some of his stuff.”

I snorted. “No. Really?”

“Yeah, really. She stood in front of the mirror and goes,” Sonic half-closed his eyes, pitching his voice higher. “‘Just like Papa.’” Then he stroked his quills with slow, solemn movements.

It was so absurd I burst into laughter, nearly dropping a plate.

“She did not do that!”

“She absolutely did! Even told me I brush too fast.” He rolled his eyes. “Shadow’s creating a monster.”

My laughter softened into a smile as silence settled between us.

I wiped my hands on a dish towel and looked over. Sonic stood stiffly at the sink, staring down at the water rushing over his fingers. His quills drooped slightly, his shoulders tight and tired.

He looked… worn. More than tired. More than the normal kind of parent exhaustion.

Something deeper.

“Sonic?” I stepped closer, voice soft. “What’s wrong?”

He didn’t answer at first. Instead, he turned off the faucet and leaned forward against the counter, head bowed. The quiet stretched, heavy and fragile.

Then finally, he spoke. “She’s struggling, Ames.”

My breath caught. “Stellar?”

He nodded.

I waited. I didn’t push. He needed a moment, and I could feel how hard it was for him to admit something wasn’t okay.

“Ever since the daycare…” His voice cracked. “She won’t go near other kids. Or new places. Or even familiar places without shutting down.”

I swallowed the ache rising in my chest and let him continue.

“We brought her to the park yesterday. Just for a few minutes. We weren’t even gonna do anything, just walk around. But the second she saw a group of kids at the sandbox, she hid behind Shadow’s legs and started shaking.” He pressed both hands to his eyes. “We didn’t even get close.”

“Sonic…” I whispered.

“She’s scared of people. Scared of being away from us. Scared of everything.” He turned his head away, jaw tight. “And I don’t know how to help her. I don’t know what to do.”

The helplessness in his voice broke something inside me.

I touched his arm. Slowly, so slowly, he let himself lean into it.

“She’s been through something traumatic,” I said gently. “Kids react in their own ways. Fear like this doesn’t just disappear overnight.”

“I know but…” Sonic set his elbows on the counter, rubbing his forehead. “I’m scared to leave her, Ames. Me and Shadow both are. The thought of her being without us, even for a little bit, it just…” He shuddered. “But keeping her in this tiny little circle forever isn’t helping her either. She needs to feel safe with more people, go more places, see more kids. Not just cling to the same three adults over and over.”

And then, an innocent little thought entered my mind. 

Now if I did this right… 

The idea pressed against my teeth until it slipped out. 

As gently as I can say, “Maybe I could come over more. Help out. Be here for her on the hard days.”

Sonic stiffened.

“Amy…” He exhaled sharply. “I just told you I want her to be around other people. Not just with you, me, and Shadow.”

I reached for a plate, partly to have something to do with my hands. Partly so he wouldn’t see how much I meant it, or how much I wished, selfishly, to be someone important in their lives.

“But I can be a step,” I continued. “A bridge. Someone familiar who helps her build confidence again bit by bit.”

Sonic stared at me, unsure.

“You’re already come over once or sometimes twice a week,” he said quietly. “I don’t want you to feel like we’re leaning too hard on you. Or expecting you to fix something this.”

“I don’t feel that way,” I said immediately. “I’m choosing this. Because I care about her. And because she needs people who won’t ask her to be brave before she’s ready.” 

I stepped closer, voice warm but steady. “Let me be one of those people. Not to replace the real work you’ll do later, but to support her while she heals.”

Sonic’s breath trembled.

He looked torn apart, pulled between fear and hope.

“…I don’t know, Ames,” he whispered.

“I know,” I said gently. “This is why I’ll stay here. I’m not asking to take her anywhere or push her past anything. I’ll just… be here. With you. With her. Until she’s strong enough to take those next steps.”

Sonic closed his eyes, exhaling slowly.

For a moment, I thought he wouldn’t say yes.

Then his voice came, quiet and wary but sincere:

“…Okay. We’ll try it.”

My heart swelled, painfully, beautifully. Relief washed through me, warm, bright, and embarrassingly sweet. And underneath it, guilt. Because part of me was relieved for the wrong reasons.

“Together,” I whispered.

His smile was hesitant, fragile. But real.

“Yeah,” he said. “Together.”

And in the warm kitchen light, with dishes drying on the counter and Stellar’s distant laughter echoing down the hall, it felt like something fragile and hopeful taking form.

Something I wasn’t sure I deserved, but desperately wanted.

I leaned just enough to let him rest for a moment. For one heartbeat, we were something else, something soft. Something like a family.

My family.

Later, as I walked home, the cool evening air couldn’t quiet the hum inside me.

Sonic’s tired voice echoed in my thoughts. Stellar’s fear sat heavy in my chest. And underneath it all, my suggestion replayed, whispered in my own mind:

Let me be the one she runs to. Let me be the safety she clings to.

Guilt gnawed at me, sharp and insistent. I knew why I’d offered. I knew it wasn’t pure selflessness, no matter how gently I’d packaged it.

But then I pictured Stellar’s wide, trusting eyes. The way she said that fragile word ‘mama’. The way she melted into my arms like she belonged there.

And I knew something else, too: I wasn’t going to stop wanting this. Not now. Maybe not ever.

I hugged myself against the evening breeze, my heartbeat loud in the quiet street.

She called me mama.

And I wasn’t ready to let that go.

Chapter Text

The days slipped into a rhythm I hadn’t expected, but one I cherished more than I could put into words.

It started with Sonic’s hesitant agreement in the kitchen ‘Okay. We’ll try it,’ and from there, my place beside Stellar seemed to cement itself. 

Honestly, what surprised me the most was how fully Shadow backed the idea of me coming over more often. I’d expected at least a skeptical eyebrow, a quiet ‘We can handle it,’ or some detached practicality about schedules and boundaries. But instead, Shadow had simply nodded, calm, and certain. The fact that he supported me, welcomed my presence, even seemed relieved by it… it meant more than I could admit out loud. 

Certainly made it easier to have more time with Stellar.

So each morning, I woke up knowing I’d see her. Each night, I went to bed replaying her laughter in my mind.

Everyday, I get to see my little girl. No more once or twice a week if I was lucky. It was everything I’d secretly wished for… and everything I knew I shouldn’t have.

And after weeks of them hovering, second-guessing, and anxiously checking in every five minutes. Finally, finally, they’d trusted me enough to leave Stellar alone with me again. When they were gone a warm, secret thrill bloomed in my chest. 

I shouldn’t feel this excited, I knew that, but I couldn’t help it. I’d missed having her all to myself, missed the quiet moments and the way she acted when it was just us. After so much convincing and reassuring them that everything would be okay, it felt… good. Like I had her back. Like she was mine again. Just for a little while.

Day One

Stellar was sprawled out on my living room rug, crayons scattered around her like fallen stars. She pressed so hard against the paper that the crayons sometimes snapped in two, and I had to remind her gently, “Easy, sweetheart. The colors work better if you’re gentle.”

She scrunched her little muzzle, concentrating, then tried again with more care. The picture was wobbly, unsteady, but clear enough: a stick-figure Sonic, a stick-figure Shadow, and me beside them, all holding the tiny hand of a stick-figure Stellar.

When she showed it to me, my throat tightened.

“Do you like it, Mama?” she asked, beaming.

I nodded, a smile that came too easily and too warmly. “I love it.”

And I did. Too much.

Day Three

We went to the park when the afternoon sun was kind and golden. Stellar didn’t run to the jungle gym like she used to. Instead, she pulled me toward the flowerbeds.

“Can I pick them?” she asked.

I hesitated, technically, they weren’t ours to take, but her eyes were so hopeful that I guided her to the ones already fallen. Together we made a little bouquet, mostly crushed dandelions and clovers.

“Here,” she said, handing the bundle to me with both hands. “For you, Mama.”

The world seemed to come to a halt around us.

I pressed the crumpled flowers to my chest, smiling through the tears forming in my eyes. “Thank you, darling. They’re beautiful.”

She leaned against me, and I thought: This is real, it has to be. I wouldn’t feel like this. I have finally been chosen and by my little girl no less.

Day Five

Stellar had a nightmare. Sonic called me in the middle of the night, his voice low and strained. “She keeps asking for you, Amy. Can you come?”

I didn’t even hesitate. I ran.

By the time I arrived, she was trembling in her bed, eyes wet with tears. When she saw me, she reached out with both arms. “Ma–Amy!”

She quickly corrected herself before any more slipped out. I should be frightened by this, I could have been caught, I could have lost her right there. But seeing her trembling in fear I couldn’t find it in me to care.

I gathered her up in my arms, rocking her gently, whispering soothing nothings until her sobs softened. Her small body relaxed against mine, breaths steadying as sleep reclaimed her.

Sonic stood in the doorway, relief plain on his face. Shadow lingered behind him, with the slightest of relief showing on his face.

But at that moment, all I cared about was my baby wrapped in my arms.

I stayed until the morning.

Day Seven

We baked cookies together, well, I baked, and Stellar got flour all over herself. The kitchen was a disaster, but her giggles as she licked dough from her paws made every mess worth it.

She looked up at me with sugar-dusted whiskers and announced proudly, “We’re the best bakers, Mama!”

And I laughed, hugging her sticky little body close. “The very best.”

The more days passed, the more natural it all felt. Like Stellar and I were two puzzle pieces finally clicking together.

She called for me when she was scared. She sought me out when she was happy. She told me little secrets in her garbled toddler words, secrets I promised to keep safe.

And though I knew it wasn’t mine to claim that her life was built by Sonic and Shadow, not me, I couldn’t let go of how whole it made me feel.

At first it was bittersweet. Every smile carried the shadow of guilt, every laugh the reminder that I was living in a lie. But now it was real. The lie I am living didn’t feel like one at all. Stellar chose me.

And I clung to it.

Because in these moments made it real. When Stellar’s small hand was curled in mine, when she called me Mama with perfect trust… I didn’t feel like I was pretending.

I felt like I was home.

Chapter Text

The sun was just beginning to set, casting long silhouettes across the living room floor. Stellar lay on the rug with her stuffed Chao tucked under one arm, lazily sketching circles on a piece of paper. She hummed under her breath, small and distracted, but I noticed the way her eyes darted toward the kitchen every few minutes.

Toward Amy.

She stood by the counter with Sonic, talking over some drinks and laughing quietly at one thing or another. Stellar never strayed far from her anymore, not even when she was safe at home, not even when she had her toys spread out all around her.

“Papa?” Stellar’s voice tugged me back to the present. She held up her drawing. A crude sketch of a picnic, colorful figures dotting the grass, Amy drawn larger than the rest.

“It’s good,” I said, kneeling beside her. “You’re improving. The lines are cleaner.”

She smiled, but her gaze drifted back to the kitchen again. The moment Amy moved to set down her mug, Stellar shifted, inching closer toward her as if she might disappear.

I didn’t think much of it.

After the daycare fiasco, it only made sense that Stellar would feel safest with Amy. Amy had been there. She’d found her, held her, calmed her down when Sonic and I hadn’t known where she was. That kind of trust didn’t go away overnight.

If Stellar clung to her a little more, what harm was there in that?

As the night dragged on, with Stellar safely tucked into bed and Amy taking her leave not long after, Sonic soundly wrapped up in my embrace as we lay in our shared bed.

The room was dark except for the faint light of the moon slipping through the curtains. Sonic’s breathing was steady against my chest, warm and familiar, his quills brushing lightly across my chin. My arm rested around him, holding him close, and for a rare moment, the house was still.

“Hey, Shads?” His voice was soft, casual, like the thought had been idling in his head for hours and had only now just slipped free from his lips.

A low hum escaped me, the kind of sound that meant I was listening.

“When did you change your mind?”

I shifted slightly, glancing down at him. His eyes were open, glimmering faintly in the moonlight. “What do you mean?”

He nuzzled his head closer into my chest, but his tone stayed curious. “You know, your trust in Amy. You didn’t like her being around Stellar so much at first. But now…” His fingers traced random shapes against my sides. “...Now it’s different. You trust her. I can see it.”

For a moment, I was quiet. His words weren’t wrong. But saying it aloud felt heavier than simply thinking it.

“I saw her,” I said at last. My voice came out lower than I intended, softer than I meant. “The day we took her to that god awful daycare.” The memories and fear of losing our little girl were still very present in my mind. “Getting that call… seeing Stellar safe and taken care of when we had no idea where she was. Amy was there for Stellar when it mattered the most, I can’t ignore that.”

Sonic tilted his head back to look at me fully in the eyes, a grin already tugging at the corners of his mouth. “So… you’re admitting I was right all along?”

I exhaled through my nose, half a sigh, half a laugh. “Don’t start.”

“I knew it.” He smirked, smug but fond all the same. “You argued with me on this for weeks, remember? And now you’re cuddled up in bed with me, admitting I was right.”

I narrowed my eyes at him. “You’re infuriating.”

“Oh come on, you love me,” he shot back without hesitation.

“I can love you and still think you are infuriating.”

Sonic didn’t fire anything back. I shifted, pressing a small kiss to the top of his head. His quills tickled against my chin, a small huff escaping my mouth.

Sonic’s smirk softened into something gentler. His voice dropped to a whisper. “I like seeing this side of you, Shads. The one that lets people in. That trust.”

I tightened my arm around him, my chest tightening in a different way. “…It’s not easy.”

“I know.” He looked up at me again, his eyes earnest now, no teasing. “That’s why it means so much. Not just for Stellar, but for you too.”

I let out a long breath, letting his warmth seep deeper into me. He was right, of course. Amy had proven herself. She had been there when it counted most. I did trust her now. And I wanted to believe that was enough.

Sonic’s hand slid up my chest, resting over my heart. “I’m proud of you, ya know. For opening up. For letting go of all that suspicion. It makes me happy.”

His words sank into me, heavier than I expected. Pride. Happiness. For me. I turned my head slightly, brushing my lips against his temple. “You talk too much,” I muttered, though the affection in my tone betrayed me.

He chuckled quietly, the sound vibrating against me. “Well someone's gotta talk in this marriage. But I can feel it, you’re lighter. Even when you don’t say it.”

We stayed like that for a while, tangled in warmth, the silence between us filled with steady breaths and unspoken understanding.

Still, in the quiet corners of my mind, that itch lingered. A whisper that something wasn’t entirely right. That maybe I had let my guard down too easily.

But with Sonic pressed close, his hand on my heart, his faith in me unwavering, I smothered the thought before it could take root.

Amy had earned this trust.

And for tonight, I wanted to believe that was enough.

Chapter Text

The picnic blanket stretched out across the grass looked like a rainbow, checkered with colors, piled with food, and surrounded by laughter. Everyone was there. Daddy, Papa, Mama, Auntie Rouge, Uncle Omega, Uncle Tails, and Uncle Knuckles. Even Cream and Cheese fluttering about.

And me.

The moment we arrived, my chest tightened. So many voices, so many faces all turning to greet me at once.

“Hey, Stellar!” Uncle Tails beamed, waving.

“Good to see you, little one,” Aunty Rouge added, her smile easy but her eyes sharp, like she saw more than she let on.

Uncle Knuckles gave a nod. Uncle Omega beeped something that I thought might’ve been a hello.

I mumbled a greeting back, my voice small, and pressed against Papa’s leg. The grass swayed around me, and the sound of chatter buzzed too loud in my ears.

I wanted to be polite. I wanted to smile like Mama said I should. But my heart was thumping too fast, my hands felt shaky, and I couldn’t make the words come out right.

So, the second everyone turned their attention to the unpacked food, I slipped away.

I found a spot behind a big oak tree at the edge of the field. The trunk was wide enough to hide me completely. There, the air was quieter. The sun filtered down through the leaves in soft shapes. I pulled my knees to my chest and hugged them tight.

Here, no one expected me to talk. No one stared, waiting for me to say something. I could just… breathe.

Still, guilt prickled in my chest. Daddy and Papa wanted me to try. They wanted me to be brave, to make friends. But every time I tried, my mouth locked up, and the world felt too heavy.

I stayed there for a while, tracing shapes in the dirt with a stick, trying to pretend it was enough.

That’s when I heard footsteps crunch softly on the grass.

I froze, tensing. Maybe if I stayed quiet, they’d go away.

But then a gentle voice said, “Hey… can I sit with you?”

I looked up. It was Uncle Tails. His smile wasn’t big or pushy, it was small, careful, like he was trying not to scare me off.

I hesitated, but nodded a little.

He sat down beside me, leaving space so I didn’t feel crowded. For a moment, we just listened to the wind weaving between the leaves. It wasn’t bad.

Then he spoke again. “You know, sometimes I don’t like big groups either.”

I blinked, surprised. “...You don’t?”

He shook his head, twin tails flicking. “Nope. I mean, I love my friends truely, but sometimes it’s a lot. All the voices, all the energy. Makes me feel like I don’t know where to fit in.”

I looked down at my knees, picking at the fur on my arm. “That’s… how I feel.”

He smiled at me again, softer this time. “Yeah. I figured.”

My chest loosened a little, but just as I was about to feel calmer, the silence between us grew heavy again. My claws dug into the dirt. What if he thought I was boring? What if he got tired of me and left?

The worry spiraled as my ears flattened, and I whispered, “...I’m not good at talking.”

Uncle Tails tilted his head. “That’s okay. You don’t have to be.”

I blinked at him. He said it so simply, like it was obvious.

Then he stood, brushing grass off his fur. “But… I do have something I wanna show you. If you want to see.”

My anxiety squeezed tighter, I wanted to say no, to stay in my safe spot. But curiosity itched louder. I didn’t want him to leave, not yet.

So I nodded.

We walked together to the open field far away from the picnic. The noise faded behind us, replaced by chirping crickets and the hush of wind blowing through grass.

There, half-covered by a sheet, was something with streaks along the sides.

Uncle Tails grinned and whipped the sheet away. “Ta-da!”

It was a little flying machine. Not sleek like his Tornado plane, but small and funny-looking, with mismatched metal panels and wires poking out. It almost looked like a toy.

I tilted my head. “...What is it?”

“A glider prototype!” Uncle Tails explained, patting the side. “I made it out of junk parts I found in my workshop. Everyone told me it wouldn’t work, but look.”

He pulled a lever, and the wings stretched out with a satisfying shkrrrk. The sunlight gleamed off the patched-together metal.

My eyes widened.

Uncle Tails’ own eyes sparkled at my reaction. “Cool, right?”

I nodded quickly, stepping closer. “It… it’s really cool.”

He crouched next to the glider, tapping a dented panel. “Y’know, at first, I almost threw this away. It didn’t look like much. But sometimes, you have to take a chance on things. Give them a try. That’s how you find out how amazing they really are.”

Something in his words made my heart flutter. Like he wasn’t just talking about the glider.

I touched the cool metal with my gloved paw, imagining it soaring through the sky. My chest felt lighter. My voice came out without me even realizing. “Do you… think I’m like that too?”

Uncle Tails looked at me in surprise, then smiled so warmly that it made my chest ache. “Of course, Stellar. You’ve just gotta give yourself a chance.”

We spent the next little while tinkering with the glider together. He showed me how the wings folded, how the little motor hummed when it started. He even let me press the button that made the lights blink.

For the first time in what felt like forever, I wasn’t thinking about who was watching me. I wasn’t thinking about saying the right words.

I was just… me.

And it felt good.

When we finally walked back to the picnic, I didn’t hide behind the oak tree. I sat down on the blanket, right next to Uncle Tails, and told Daddy and Papa all about the glider.

Their surprised smiles made my chest warm.

Maybe… maybe I could do this. Maybe I could try again.

Because Uncle Tails was right. Sometimes you have to take a chance, on machines, on people, on yourself.

And sometimes, when you did… things turned out amazing.