A Dozen Roses

The autumn breeze whipped against him as he trudged on. The orange leaves blew by him, framing the scene. He felt the already-fallen leaves crunch under his feet as he took in another painful breath. The air was crisp and distinct; he knew this time of year all too well. The atmosphere was bittersweet. He had grown accustomed to the chilly air, the golden colors surrounding him. They weren't pleasant colors. Oh, no. To some people they might have been, but not to him.

He trudged forward, past the old, rickety gate. It squeaked in response, but it went unheard. He had been here so many times. Everything was always the same when he came. Sometimes he wished that it would change. Give him some closure, maybe. Show him that life moved on even after tragic happenings come along and slap you in the face. It had been exactly a year today since the event and he still hadn't completely moved on. How could he?

He finally made it to his destination. Clutching the parcel in his shivering, gloved hands he placed it down on the ground. The gray gravestone bore into him; when his bright eyes met the dull coloring of it he went his stomach drop. It shouldn't have been gray. She was such a bright person... it deserved to be pink. A bright, neon, cheerful pink. But, then again, looking at anything that was shaded pink hurt too much. He wasn't sure if he would be able to deal with it.

Hey Lucy, I remember your name.
I left a dozen roses on your grave today.
I'm in the grass on my knees, wipe the leaves away.
I just came to talk for a while.
I got some things I need to say.

His stiff hands pushed away the stray tree droppings. The crinkly discolored leaves blew away in the brisk fall breeze and his arching eyes fell back on the grave. Her name was engraved on the stone, staring him in the face. Teasing him. All he had left of her was a name, a thousand memories that killed him to think about and a shell bracelet. He remembered so much about her; her eye color was a bright, lively jade-green. It was distinct. He had never met anyone else with an eye color so radiant. The dress that she wore everyday, religiously, with a matching cherry-red headband to match to hold back her petal-pink quills. Golden ring-bracelets around her thin, slender wrists. Her long eyelashes that batted at him more often then they should.

He felt his eyes sting at the thought of her crying. Tears had always congregated on her eyelashes  before she had willed herself to allow them to fall down her peachy muzzle, her rosy cheeks puffed out. She had always puffed out her cheeks when she was upset; it was silly. She had a slim, soft face and puffing out her cheeks made her look childish. Regardless, she always had a childish innocence about her. She was a lively person, an energetic girl... it was bittersweet for her to be deceased before any of them.

Nobody guessed that she would be the first of them to die. And she was so young, too... it wasn't fair for a 15 year old girl to die, especially since it was her. Especially since he was the hero and he had lost his heroine. She had always disliked being called a damsel; she didn't live feeling helpless. She was a powerful girl... well, they thought she was. She wasn't so powerful anymore.

The sun burned his eyes. How dare it be so bright and lively on a occasion like this? How dare it still shine even though she was gone? It wasn't right. He fell to his knees, the fading grass tickling his bare knees. His fingers surrounded a pile of leaves that he had pushed aside and he grasped them tightly and threw them away. His quickly-dulling eyes fell back on the grave as he spoke up. "Hey, Ames. I came, just like I said I would."

He received silence as his reply. Another gust of wind brushed by him and kicked up leaves that rested on the dull ground. He continued. "I wanted to wish ya a happy birthday. Your finally sixteen. Nobody else is gonna come, ya know, but I'm here." He felt his body stiffened considerably. She never reached her sweet sixteen, and on her thirteenth birthday he wasn't around. He had been away on a mission. September 23rd was now a bitter day for him. It was for everyone, but he knew that he took her loss the hardest.

"I wouldn't miss it for the world." He added. His hands parted from the ground momentarily to brush away a smudge from the gravestone. He wouldn't tolerate anything messing up her burial site. He had failed to protect her before, but this time he would protect her with a newfound passion. Nobody was going to mess up this area. He'd make sure of it. This was where she was. Her essence oozed into this area.

Now that it's over,
I just wanna hold her.
I'd give up all the world to see that little piece of heaven looking
back at me.

"I miss you." He admitted. When she had been alive he would have never admitted that to her face... or to anyone, really. Tails had always had a hunch that he liked her more then he let on. Nowadays he was ashamed. He deeply wished that he could go back and redo it all. He'd let her catch up. He'd let her latch onto him and look at him with those big green eyes that he missed so much. He'd let her giggle and gush over him and he'd kiss her until she cried and then they'd cry together, holding each other in their arms.

He remembered the way her body curved into his. Her arms would lace around his neck and rest behind his quills. She never had a problem with his quills; after all, she was hedgehog too. She could run her hands along him anyway she wanted and she wouldn't get her fingers pricked. The same went for him... he had just never tried. Now that she was gone- now that he'd never feel her again- he desperately wanted to. He wanted to rest his hands on her waist and pull her close to him. He wanted to breathe in her scent.

He took in a deep breath. The area around him smelt nothing like she used to. He never thought it would be possible to miss anybody- or thing, for that matter- this much. It was criminal. It was painful. It made him feel like crap for knowing that he had let her slip through his fingertips. How could he have failed to protect her? It wasn't like she was a big, macho target. She was a small, cheerful girl with big dreams and a passionate drive to achieve them. She was a small, cheerful girl with a heart too big for her body. Too big for anybody's body. He had never seen anybody so loving in his life, and he knew that he never would again. He didn't want to. Nobody should steal Amy's place in his memory. He simply would not allow it.

He remembered the days when they were both young, when they had both first met. She had worn her hair in a style very alike his and sported a questionable look, but she pulled it off. She was such a cute little girl, and for as long as he had known her she never outgrew that image. While other 15 year old girls were into getting in fights with their parents and texting inappropriate images to their boyfriends Amy enjoyed helping Cream out at the Chao garden and baking him cookies.

They had met when she was 8 and he was 11. The age difference had never bothered her; three years wasn't bad. It really wasn't. Even then she had been point-blank about her feelings towards him. She told him that she loved him and would want to marry him someday. So, it was only natural for a 11 year old boy to run away from a girl hitting on on so heavily- especially when she was younger then him!- right? He wanted to slap his younger self in the face. If he could only go back and redo it...

Now that it's over,
I just wanna hold her.
I've gotta live with the choices I made,
and I can't live with myself today.

"I don't let anybody hug me, ya know." He said suddenly, piercing the sereneness of the moment with his broken voice. He couldn't bring himself to sound cocky at a time like this. He was done with being cocky and egotistic around her. He owed her so much... so much that he couldn't give her because she was gone and he'd never see her again. "It wouldn't be right... my hugs are yours and only yours..." he trailed off, unable to finish his statement. He felt his throat burn and his eyes singed with salty tears.

He had never been one to cry. No, he didn't cry often. He shed a few tears when he had to leave Chris, but that was because he was so sure that the 12 year old boy had relied on him heavily. As far as he knew, Chris was doing fine. It was bittersweet for him to think of him being okay. Chris was the same age as Amy, in their world. Chris would be turning 16 this year too. Chris was healthy and had a family and money and everything he could have asked for. Amy had nothing; she was dead.

Dead.

He felt himself shiver.

"I'm sorry." He blurted. He shook his head harshly and stared at her grave. The red roses contrasted with the dull colors around them and he felt himself choke up. Oh, the irony. The symbolism. If his heart wasn't already broken it would have shattered at that very moment. She was really, really gone. It was like it was sinking in for a second time. She had never been kissed;  he wondered if she had ever even been hugged back. He felt vile for avoiding her for so long. He just wanted to hear her say his name one more time... to look up at him with those adoring eyes and make him feel like he could do anything.

Hey Lucy, I remembered your birthday.
They said it'd bring some closure to say your name.

"Cream really misses ya." He informed absolutely no one, but in his heart he was talking to her. In his heart she was sitting in front of him, her big green eyes twinkling at him as he spoke, her soft, small hands cupped over his own boyish pair. Pink and blue. Boy and girl. It was ironic... but oh so obvious. Why had he denied it? Avoided it, even?

He continued. "She hangs out a lot with Tails now. You'd love it. You'd preach about how cute they were and how they're meant to be and how we should set a good example for them and hold hands..." he sighed audibly. "I'd hold your hand, you know. I'd hold it any day."

The wind picked up again, whistling eerily in his twitching ears. He fidgeted a bit and pulled the scarf closer to himself. She had given it to him for Christmas a few years ago. Knitted it herself. How could he not wear it now? It was an obligation that he was completely willing to comply with. He wanted to wear it. It reminded him of her. It reminded him of how she worried about him and cared for him more then anyone else in the world ever did.

To be frank, the only reason that he still fought today was for her. He knew that she'd never be happy with him if he just gave up and became a lifeless shell of a boy. He knew that she'd want him to keep living, for her-- for both of them. She would have wanted him to continue to stand for peace and freedom and to never let anyone tell him what to do because that was one of the things that she had loved most about him. Whenever he wondered what she'd think of him now he'd crawl onto his bed and cuddle the scarf to his chest and breathe in the scent of it. He imagined her knitting it for him, her careful fingers weaving in and out, the needle in her hand.

I know I'd do it all different if I had the chance.
But all I got are these roses to give,
And they can't help me make amends.

"If I could do it over, you know I'd treat you like the little princess that you are." He informed her. He held her imaginary hand and looked into her eyes that didn't exist. "And I'd keep ya alive, of course." he added bitterly.

She tilted her transparent head and smiled at him that smile that he loved so much-- that smile that made him want to kiss her all over and hold her in his arms and never, ever let go. Anybody that let go of her must have been stupid, an idiot... too bad he was that idiot. She laced her nonexistent fingers along his real ones and closed her eyes gracefully in happiness. He knew that he was crying; he could feel the hot tears streaming down his face.

She looked down to the roses in front of her gave and gave him her girlish smile again. A small giggle escaped her rosy lips and god, this girl was so beautiful. She was beautiful and innocent and why the hell did she have to die? Her quills moved in perfect rhythm with her body, swishing and falling upon her shoulders like silk. "Thank you," she said, and he was amazed that he could still remember her voice so well. He remembered the way she parted her lips when she spoke and the way she'd squeal when he said her name. How could anyone not love this girl that should have been sitting in front of him?

He was vaguely aware that he was hallucinating. Had he really stooped to Shadow's level? Did he always see Maria the way he was seeing Amy? It was like she was really there, minus the fact that she was moderately ghostly. Then again, why should he be complaining? He was seeing her. This was all he had wanted for a long time; approximately a year. Now, if only he could hold her...

Here we are.
Now you're in my arms.
I never wanted anything so bad.

She reached around him, her see-through arms lacing around his body and she pulled him close to her. He was numbly aware that she wasn't real. This wasn't really her. But this illusion seamed to be reading his thoughts... she pressed her body against his and he could almost imagine what it would be like to be really holding her soft form. He could almost imagine her excited breath patting against his neck in that giddy way that she preformed so well.

He was still crying. He could tell. Being with this illusion of her wasn't helping anything. It was reverting back to his old stage of denial. She was really dead, he told himself. She was gone and there was no way that she could ever come back. But, damn, this felt good. Empty, but good. Just knowing that this hallucination of her still loved him, still trusted him and still thought of him worthy of her admiration and love that it made him feel better about himself. A lot, apparently. He ached for the real deal; he didn't enjoy hallucinating. It meant that something was seriously wrong with him! This was something Shadow did, not him! He was the cool blue hero who had it all under control and here he was seeing the girl that he loved and couldn't save hugging him even though she was dead!

"Don't ever forget me." She whispered into his ear. It tingled at the thought of her whispering to him such a sentence. How could he ever forget her? Was she insane? There was nothing that he would want more then to have her come back to life. She was all he had ever wanted and more. "Promise?"

"Y-yeah." He stuttered. He was a little creeped out at the realization that he was seeing things but he was also amazed that he was able to come of with the accurate image of her after a year of not seeing her. Damn, she looked good. Better then he had remembered. Was this image of her an approximation of what she'd look like today?

She smiled softly but sadly. She knew the price they both had to pay. There was no true way for them to be together for a while. Not until he died, at least, and they both knew that he was destined to live a long, full life. He was Sonic the Hedgehog. He could do anything... except die in battle. That much was given. He was stubborn and he was strong. There was also the issue of him falling in love again.

I don't want to fall in love again, he thought. I don't want to move on.

"I don't think I could live with myself if I ever fell in love again." He admitted to this illusion of Amy that his mind had conjured. She shook her head again, her quills fraying with every movement of her head. She was disagreeing with him. Was it possible that she wanted him to move on from her?

She spoke again. "I want you to be happy. You shouldn't wait for me." She admitted, her slender fingers pushing stray quills from her twinkling, lively eyes. Oh, god, he missed those eyes.

Here we are.
For a brand new start.
Living the life that we could've had.

"I won't be happy with anyone else." He admitted. He locked eyes with this imaginary girl that he loved so much and wiped tears from his eyes. Men didn't cry. Men shouldn't cry. Men shouldn't let the girl that they had tried so desperately to protect and fail see them cry. He just couldn't help it. She drove too much emotion into him; too many feelings and thoughts and memories crashed into him at once and he just couldn't control himself.

She stared at him in a sort of unsaid agreement and floated back from him. She really was dead, he reminded himself. Whatever was going on right now was surreal and he shouldn't get used to the sound of her voice again because he'd wake up tomorrow night from vivid dreams of her. He'd hear her everywhere he went and he'd break. He'd revert back to the first month of her death where he locked himself in his house and refused to come out even to eat. He was sure lucky that Tails was able to keep it together.

He guessed that Tails was fairing better then him because he had already lost someone close to him. Cosmo had left him years ago; he knew how to deal with death. Sure, Sonic had been close to Cosmo but Tails loved the girl, and he had let her know that the feeling was mutual. He had held Cosmo before and hugged her and laced his fingers around hers. Sonic had ran at the first sight of contact.

Stupid, stupid, stupid!

Why was he so stupid?

By running away he had told himself that he was keeping her safe. She was safe as long as she was kept at a distance. Nobody would suspect she was his weak point. But look where that got him. He had practically no intimate memories of her and she was dead anyways. She went through unnecessary pain, even though he had promised himself that he wouldn't allow that to happen.

Me and Lucy walking hand in hand.
Me and Lucy never wanna end.
Just another moment in your eyes.
I'll see you in another life.
In heaven where we never say goodbye.

And then she was fading. Wait, fading? No! There was no way that he was going to let her go again. His hands shot out to grab her but it wasn't like she was ever really there anyways. She was just a figment of his imagination and he knew that he shouldn't have gotten attacked. A searing heat smashed against his chest as he realized that he was loosing her all over again. Was he going to be able to make it through that amount of heartbreak again? Oh, he seriously doubted  it.

He tried to wrap his fingers along her small wrist and pull her back but she phased right through him. She was never really with him, anyways. He was just seeing things, she had only been an imagine inside his head that was projected outwards. It didn't matter how much he wanted to really hold her. She was dead.

He felt his head smash into his hands at the searing realization. It was harder the second time, he realized quite quickly. He was feeling everything that he was the first time but doubled-- tripled, maybe. He felt like his heart was being brutally ripped from his chest. He felt like every organ he possessed was being displayed from the inside out for the world to see. And once the illusion had fully vanished, once she was really gone for the second time in his life and he knew that he'd never be able to see her again he felt alone.

He remembered when they were both younger; she was merely twelve and he was fifteen. She had just began going to school; it was optional for them and she possessed a will to learn. It was her first dance and a nice boy had asked her to go with him. He remembered her walking up to him, a bashful expression on her face. It was one that she didn't wear often. Amy was a lot of things and bashful was certainly not one of them. She had always been so upfront about her feelings towards him.

She had started the conversation with her signature, happy-to-see-you-hug-me-stupid smile. He couldn't help but tell that something was different this time. She was nervous. She had sat down next to him and wrung her hands together in her lap. "So," she had began, the tone of her voice obviously peculiar. "I have this dance this weekend-"

"I'm busy." He had answered automatically, even though it was a lie. It was just a chain reaction for him to deny any offers she had for him. Why had he been such a dweeb?

"Sonic, I'm not asking you to come with me." She had admitted, her young eyes falling upon his and he became wordless for a brief moment. He had constantly had that reaction around her. Sure, he was scared both of her and for her but he couldn't help but feel at least a little attracted to her. He didn't think it was fair to the other girls for her to be that pretty. "You see, this, um... this boy.." she began, a rosy blush fighting it's way to her cheeks. He had raised an eyebrow. "... he kinda, you see, asked me to the dance and I was wondering if it was okay that I went with him? It's not a, you know, date, or anything, because my heart is already with you but he asked me and-"

He had stopped listening. Tuned her out. He had told her that it was okay. He wasn't upset, even though part of him burned at the thought of any other boy getting close to her. He had reminded himself that he couldn't be with her, it was dangerous for her to be with him, something else and looking back, damn, he should have said no! He should have collected that girl- that beautiful, amazing girl that made him feel so many things at once and he should have told her how he felt. That way there would have been some closure to their relationship.

Here we are, now you're in my arms.
Here we are for a brand new start.
Got to live with the choices I've made.
And I can't live with myself today.

She had went to that dance with that nice boy and had a fantastic time. She had come back with her cheeks flushed and her hair a mess. She had done a little too much dancing. But, at the first sight of him her fatigued eyes had brightened and she still ran into his arms and told him everything and he had played it off like he didn't care, even though he did. Too much.

He felt the stubborn tears streak down his face. He felt alone. The warmth that had filled into him and made him feel real again had vanished as quickly as it came. His body felt heavy and cold. It was almost like he was lifeless... probably from having to go through this again.

"Damn it, Amy!" He shouted out to her grave, her decaying body in the ground. "Why couldn't I have been fast enough? Why couldn't you still be around? Damn it!" He cursed several more times and felt warm tears stream down his cold face. It contrasted. His hand carved into a fist as he slammed it down on the ground several times. The roses shone out against the cold atmosphere more, illuminating the feelings that he wished that he could have told her about.

"Don't you know how much I need you?" He shouted out, again, to absolutely no one. He knew that talking to yourself was a sign of insanity but he didn't care. He was insane. He was lonely and bitter and insane. "Don't you know how much I love you?!" He barked out, barely, finally. He had said it.

There. Everything was out in the air now. Nothing was unsaid... just unheard.

Unheard by the one person who needed to hear it the most. It wasn't like he needed to hear it. He had known for a long time. His fingers stretched across the faded grass as his feet pivoted meekly, crunching leaves behind him. The last few tears dropped to the ground and vanished.

Me and Lucy walking hand in hand.
Me and Lucy never wanna end.
Got to live with the choices I've made,
And I can't live with myself today.

He took in a couple of deep breaths to try and collect himself. He had to get back soon. As much as he wanted to stay by her grave and miss her very scent he couldn't. People were going to get worried about him and come and see where he was and he couldn't let them worry about him. He knew that she'd never wanted that. He knew she wanted him to be happy. That hallucination had told him so, and even though it was crazy and irrational he firmly believed she had been there.

With a sudden burst of bravery, he pulled himself up to his feet. He leaned over and pressed a kiss on her grave stone, near her engraved name. He tried to imagine her there instead but it just didn't work. The only time he had ever felt her being his cold was when she was dead... and he didn't want to think about that day any longer. He had run the situation through his mind several times and he had concluded that there was nothing he could do now and he should just let it go. "Happy birthday, Amy." He mumbled out. "I love you."

He yanked himself to his feet. His legs felt heavy, like stones. He willed himself to walk away from her, from all of the memories and thoughts and feelings that oozed out of this area and made his way back to the gate. It sneered as he opened it, nearly breaking off of it's hinges. His next project would have to be to fix that.

He took one last look at the burial site. A dozen roses sat by her cleaned grave. To anyone passing by they'd be able to tell that who ever was buried there was deeply loved. A smile of some sort found it's way to his lips as he felt a familiar warmth enclose around his dangling gloved hand. An unexplainable feeling enclosed around his fingers as he turned and lead the invisible heat away.

The ghost bobbled behind him, the familiar bounce in it's step returned.

Hey Lucy, I remember your name...