(IM)MORTAL

06

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THE SIXTH CHAPTER
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༶•┈┈୨ SONIC WAS ON the news, and his eyes were full of sorrow—Maria easily saw, for her eyes were just as hollow. The energetic hero, try as he may to hide it, held a broken heart. The reporter asked him questions, thanked him for his service, but Sonic wore a smile that did not, could not, would not reach his eyes.

And his right hand held his left wrist. Hiding something. A wound, maybe. Maria was too drawn in by his sad, sad eyes to catch a glint of gold. She was too absorbed in this sadness; sadness of seeing someone who was always smiling and now could no longer.

It cut her open.

She saw herself in Sonic. A reflection.

Her smile died with him and every person on the ARK.

As they emerged, Maria counted the heads anxiously—but none were his. Blue, red, yellow, pink, white—no black-and-scarlet. Not even Ivo was there, even in background, but she suspected that much. No doubt he turned tail as soon as he landed.

For blowing a hole in the moon, he was in serious trouble. There was not one person who did not spit on his name.

Fool, Maria wanted to scream again. You've damaged our home beyond repair.

And all for petty revenge for what was done to their family. Maria despised him for that. Utterly despised. Yes, perhaps she and he deserved to wreak havoc for what had been done to them—but she would never blow up the moon.

The news reporter went on. "Sonic—is there anything you would like to say in this, your hour of victory?" Useless prattle, trying to keep him here, to exhaust him when he deserved—and needed—to rest.

"Just that I'm sorry."

The microphone barely picked up those words.

He was gone before anyone could ask why.

But Maria knew.

It cut her open again.

Chopped her heart into pieces.

Blue smeared across the screen, followed by red, yellow, and pink. White had slipped away, but when or where was unknown.

Maria screamed. Chaos burst from her and power shut down with a scream of its own. The television screen shattered and smoked. The house was black as the night.

He was gone. Dead.

Sonic was sorry for that. Sorry that he could not save him. Sorry that he was not enough.

Maria was sorry, too. For him and with him.

But for all her anger, her sorrow—Maria did not resent or hate Sonic for this. She knew he did all he could. She knew he was only one person, a mortal, a child.

Maria saved her anger for someone who truly deserved it.

In the earliest hours of the morning, Ivo slinked in, and her anger was ready to be unleashed. Properly home at last, after all this time—these years—and took a seat on the identical sofa across from her, where he rubbed a gloved hand over his bald head.

         Maria threw the couch cushion at him, but weakly. It missed. She was too weak, exhausted from hours of sobbing.

(Sobbing alone.)

         But her glare was enough. The fire in her eyes was plenty.

Ivo sighed. A sad sigh.

"I lost him."

There was no warning, no preamble.

Maria choked. Choked even though she already knew, already cried about it. Choked even though she already choked.

"I lost him," he repeated, softer. "He took off, twice, and when I thought I had him, he took that hedgehog's hand and they were gone." Sad, his words, save for that hedgehog. Bitter, bitter, bitter; as always. "Only Sonic came back."

Silence. Her fury died and emptiness took its place. She was too depressed to be angry.

"Maria . . . My dearest . . . I . . ."

He had nothing. No excuse, no apology. But for those, Maria was half glad; she did not want to hear it, none of it.

         But she knew her cousin

(her dear old cousin, with his
ginger hair beginning to gray,
whilst she remained young)

         had done all he could, and there had been nothing he could do to prevent yet another tragedy with the Robotnik name sewn on it in big letters.

He had done his best, just as Sonic had.

"But I have good news, I hope."

She wiped her eyes on her sweater's sleeve end, never breaking his gaze.

"The silencers have trackers in them . . ."

She knew that; knew it better than anybody. But the reminder did not stifle her like it once did, half a century ago.

". . . and I synchronized him with my own trackers while we were on missions."

Maria drew in a deep breath.

         "I can find him,"

(if anything of him remains)

         "and if he . . ."

(is dead;
dead for real this time)

         "Well, then we can bury him proper. With us. With you, where he belongs."

Maria could only nod. Ivo pushed off his knees to stand, and he circled the center table to sit next to her. He held her, held her close.

"Find him," she whispered. "Bring him home to me." For real this time, she almost added.

He promised, but like most promises, it would be broken. The only solace was that it was not broken on purpose. These things just happen.

It was as if the Robotniks were not meant to have peace and happy endings.