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Sabre the Echidna yawned as he closed the door of his bedroom. He had slept wonderfully well this night, and now his stomach was growling angrily, wanting to be filled. I guess I better go to the kitchen and see who’s awake, Sabre thought.

The echidna made his way towards Haven’s kitchen/ He walked past Thunderhawk’s slightly opened door and winced when he heard the snores coming from the bedroom. I wonder how Grandfather Sojourner’s mother was able to stand these, he mused, chuckling as he continued walking. Maybe she was deaf, or perhaps she would put his pillow in Grandfather Thunderhawk’s mouth. Who knows?

Two minutes later, Sabre arrived in front of the kitchen. He stood in the doorway, smiling.

Father Athair was in one of his overly cheerful moods – but then when wasn’t he ever? He was making pancakes waffles, hovering between the frying pan and the waffle-iron while humming to himself. Seated at the table, Fifth-father Spectre was looking quite sleepy. Sabre could tell it judging by his tired red eyes, but also because Spectre was holding a waffle in his hand while spreading strawberry jam on his wrist.

Then Sabre noticed he could see his fifth-father’s skin under his jet black fur. It was raw and red, as if Spectre had been scratching it for hours.

“Hello, Father and Fifth-father,” Sabre greeted. “Did you sleep well?”

Whereas Athair smiled broadly and nodded, Spectre groaned. When he saw his fifth-son raise an eyebrow, the black echidna looked up. “You don’t know how hard it is to get paint out of your fur,” Spectre said tiredly. “I spent the first half of the night scrubbing my fur, and let me tell you Sojourner won’t try that little stunt again anytime soon.”

Sabre chuckled in advance; Spectre’s punishments were as unpredictable as they were ridiculous. “What did you do to him?”

“Exactly what he did to me, only it wasn’t water or paint I threw on him.” A grin crept its way on Spectre’s lips, and Sabre shuddered. “It was glue.”

The brown echidna gasped. No wonder Sojourner wasn’t in the kitchen; the poor guy must be still trying to get rid of the glue! Which he noticed seemed to greatly amuse Spectre. “You’re one sick echidna, Grandfather,” Sabre joked.

“I know, but he’ll get over it. Eventually.” Spectre held his waffle up to take a bite out of it, but he bit his hand instead. “Spawn of Dimitri!” he cursed as he squeezed his wounded hand. Sabre just chuckled and took a seat across from his fifth-father.

“Incoming!” Athair shouted. To Sabre’s surprise the flying echidna’s fist fell down hard on the pan’s handle, and the pancakes that were in it were flung across the kitchen. Sabre gaped, but Spectre just held his plate up and the pancakes landed square in it. The dark one chuckled at Sabre’s dumbfounded expression.

“He’s been doing that for an hour, as you can see.” Spectre motioned to the wall behind them, and for the first time Sabre noticed the pancakes that were glued there. There were also some on the ground, and one lonely waffle on the ceiling. “Thanks Edmund, he got it right after the twentieth attempt,” Spectre sighed, dropping a lump of sugar in his glass of orange juice and stirring it with a knife.

Needless to say Sabre was as amused as he was puzzled. He was about to say something when his fifth-father took a “knifeful” – if that word is even possible – of orange juice to taste it. He winced and put more sugar in his glass. “Athair, what did you put in the coffee this morning? It tastes horrible.” Spectre stuck his tongue out in disgust, and used his knife to put sugar in his glass.

Sabre began chuckling as Spectre scattered sugar on the table, earning himself a dark glare from the tired echidna. “What are you laughing about, Fifth-son?”

“N-nothing. Are you feeling well Grandfather?” Sabre asked, biting back some snickers.

“I’m fine, just a little tired.” Spectre sighed once again and began to mild-absently cut his waffle with his spoon. I can see that, Sabre thought as he watched his fifth-father struggle to cut the waffle. He finally adverted his eyes, fearing that he would crack up. Must not laugh… oh gods he’s so stupid… no, don’t laugh… don’t…

“Damn these things, they don’t cut!” Spectre growled. “Maybe we should replace the knives, they’re getting old.”

And I know some relative of mine who does as well…

“Why don’t you try with a fork instead, Fourth-father?” Athair cheerfully exclaimed. “And hurry up, your orange juice is getting cold.”

Sabre couldn’t take it anymore, and began laughing out loud while Spectre glared. “Very funny, Athair. But you’ve got one point, my coffee is getting cold.” And with that Spectre got up and put his overly sugared glass of orange juice in the microwave and turned it on. Sabre burst out laughing, holding his sides. Spectre cast him a puzzled look. “You’re acting quite strangely this morning, Fifth-son.”

“You’re one to talk!” Sabre choked.

Thunderhawk chose this moment to step in the kitchen. He raised one eyebrow upon seeing his growling father and laughing fourth-son. “I guess it is safer not to ask any question,” the lavender echidna simply said.

“You’ve guessed right,” Spectre said as he took his glass of orange juice out of the microwave and blew the steam away. “I don’t know what got into him.”

Thunderhawk widened his eyes at the glass, casting a glance in Sabre’s direction. The younger echidna shrugged, dissolving in another laughing fit. Thunderhawk shook his head and was about to reason with his father when Athair yelled: “Incoming!” and hurled the pancakes as he had done earlier. And before he could even say: “Holy Edmund eating a banana!”, two pancakes plastered themselves against Thunderhawk’s face. Burning hot pancakes.

Thunderhawk gave off a yell of pain as the pancakes burned his lavender fur. he danced in place and growled as Sabre fell off his chair, now howling with laughter. “Are you going to sit there and laugh or are you going to help me?”

“I’d rather sit there and laugh!” Sabre said.

Thunderhawk humped and brought his hands up to get the pancakes off, wincing when he felt the heat on his skin. “Damn you, Athair, why do you always have to make others suffer from your stupidity?” He ripped the burning pancakes off, ignoring the pain as he threw them to Athair. “Hair-stuffed pancakes. Help yourself.”

By the time Sabre had calmed down enough to sit on his chair, Thunderhawk had taken a seat and Sojourner had arrived.

If Sabre had been surprised by Spectre’s appearance, then he was completely flabbergasted by Sojourner’s. The red echidna was literally missing entire patches of fur, and what remained of it was bristled and standing on end. The furless spots showed red scratched skin, and Sojourner was looking quite annoyed.

“What happened to you, son,” Thunderhawk asked, more amused than concerned.

“Ask dear Grandfather Spectre here,” Sojourner grumbled while grabbing a plate. “I think he knows.”

“We’re square now, Second-son,” Spectre replied while sipping his coffee. Sorry, orange juice. “I got you back, that’s all. You wouldn’t be in this mess if you hadn’t started it all.”

“But I do maintain glue was pretty low, even for you,” Sojourned snarled.

“Then it suits you perfectly.”

“Do you have any idea how hard it is to wash glue off your fur?” the red one shouted, furious. “I spent the entire night in the bathroom, I even had to shave or rip off some glued fur! I see you didn’t have to do that!”

“It’ll grow back, don’t worry.”

Sabre shook his head as he listened to his fighting relatives. They could be so helpless at times, but at the same time he couldn’t help but love them. They were the way they were, end of the story, and he could do nothing to prevent it.

But then something occurred to him: Locke wasn’t here. His son was never one to get up late unless he was really exhausted – which couldn’t be the case. Locke rarely skipped a meal for no apparent reason. His son’s absence normally wouldn’t worry Sabre, but he couldn’t help a bad feeling from setting in his mind.

“Has anyone seen Locke?” Sabre asked.

“I saw him yesterday before going to bed,” Spectre said. “But I haven’t seen him yet this morning.”

“Knowing your son, he’s either in his lab working on a machine or in the surveillance room stalking Lara-Le,” Thunderhawk grunted. “Or else he forgot to wake up.”

Fourth-father must be right; then again this doesn’t look like Locke. He usually is the first one to wake up. I have to check on him. “I’ll get him,” Sabre announced as he got up, but Spectre motioned for him to sit down.

“Let your son breathe a little, will you? He’ll come around, just eat a pancake or two and he’ll be there before you know it. Now sit down.”

Sabre sighed and sat back down. He knew he was being overprotective, but he easily showed concern when it came to his only son. His fathers would often tell him to leave Locke alone while Sabre thought what he was doing was what was best for him. He loved his son and hated to see him sad or hurt. I’m just being paranoid. Locke’s probably fine.

The five males ate breakfast in silence, with Spectre and Sojourner exchanging dark glances every now and then. Half an hour later, the echidnas put their plates in the sink; Locke was nowhere to be seen.

“That’s it, I’m looking for him,” Sabre said as he walked out of the kitchen. “I’ve got a bad feeling about this.”

“Take it easy, Sabre,” Thunderhawk said calmly. “Your son probably fell asleep in front of a computer screen again.”

“I just hope you’re right, Grandfather.”

Sabre strode in the corridors, heading towards the surveillance room. May Grandfather Thunderhawk be right, he thought. I know he probably is, so why the hell am I so worried?

The brown echidna arrived in front of the surveillance room and, wasting no time, opened the door. The room was empty, and all the computers screens were blank. Okay, don’t panic. He’s probably working in his lab. It would be extremely unusual of him to skip breakfast like that, but oh well.

Sabre closed the door or the surveillance room, hurrying towards his son’s lab. Which was as empty as the surveillance room. Last option: his bedroom. He’d better be in there, or else… Sabre couldn’t bear the thought of Locke vanishing like that. There had to be an explanation for this. His paternal instincts kicked in, and Sabre took off running in Locke’s bedroom’s direction. He tried to calm his raging mind. All right, he just slept in. That must be it. Totally out of character, but it must be. It has to be. Braking in front of Locke’s door, Sabre took a big breath and opened it.

Empty. The bed’s sheets were neatly folded in a pile on the mattress. And Sabre remembered Locke had washed his sheets the day before. That could only mean one thing: Locke had never slept there that night. What the hell happened? Sabre brushed his scared thoughts off and sent out a mental call.

Locke? Where are you son? No one answered him. It was like Locke had shut his mind tight and allowed no other in it. That or his son was… Sabre shook his head. He couldn’t even envisage the thought of Locke dying. It was far too terrifying. Locke, for Edmund’s sake, answer me! Where are you! Still nothing; Sabre felt the bile rise in his throat.

He took off running once again in the corridors. “Grandfathers! I can’t find Locke!” he shouted.

It wasn’t long before the others came up to him. Athair and Spectre were looking concerned, as Thunderhawk grumbled and Sojourner rolled his eyes. “Are you sure, Sabre?” Spectre asked. “Did you check everywhere?”

“Yes I did! I’ve been to the surveillance room then to the lab then his bedroom!” Sabre said quickly, panic rising in his voice. “Then I tried to contact him but he won’t answer! Something happened to him, Fifth-father!”

Spectre rubbed his chin for a moment, thinking. “He won’t answer, you say? Well then I guess something happened. Locke wouldn’t block one of us out like that.” He pointed north. “Thunderhawk, Sojourner, you two go this way. See if you can find Locke. Athair, you go south. Sabre, come with me, we’ll go west. First one to find him alert the others, understood?”

They all nodded and went separate ways. Sabre began wishing he knew what was going on at all. He hurried forwards to catch up with Spectre, who was walking fast ahead. “Where do you think he could be?” Sabre asked, concern edging in his voice.

Spectre sighed. “If I knew we wouldn’t be looking for him right now. Did you check his lab and the surveillance room?” Sabre nodded. “All right, let’s go to the conference room. Then we’ll go to the elevator bay and see from there. It’ll be harder if we can’t contact him, but it’ll have to do.”

And off they were. But as Sabre feared, the conference room was empty, and so was the elevator bay. And Spectre was seriously going to lose his temper. Thunderhawk, he mentally called, have you two found something, son?

No, Father. We’ve checked the food storages and all the rooms in the north and east aisles, Thunderhawk answered, now sounding a bit concerned. Athair is with us, and he says he hadn’t got any luck in the south aisle.

“Well, I think that leaves only a few options,” Spectre sighed. “I’ll check the medical wing and you go to the ship bay. I’m afraid Locke has left Haven, Sabre, but we better make sure of that before alerting anyone.” Sabre nodded, and departed towards the ship bay. He still didn’t know why Locke would hide or leave Haven; after all the day before had been quite nice, so his son had no reason to leave.

As he neared the ship bay, Sabre somehow felt he was getting close. His pace quickened, and his hopes got up as he took a last turn. There, metallic walls smelled of turmoil, of a Guardian’s previous presence. Sabre looked up and began to shout: “Locke! Where are you son? Locke!” The brown echidna received no answer, though he sped up even more. And when he finally arrived at the ship bay, he stopped dead and his blood froze.

There was a sight he had never seen, not even in his worst nightmare. At the bottom of some metallic stairs, Locke was lying on a side, unmoving and not breathing. And there was so much blood everywhere! On the stairs, on the floor… and on Locke too. Sabre remained frozen in place, unable to take his eyes off of his son bathing in a pool of his own blood – then something clicked in his mind and he screamed his son’s name. “Locke!”

Sabre bolted down the stairs. He didn’t care if he slipped and fell as well, he just wanted to be with his son, to take him in his arms and hold him close. He fell on his knees beside Locke’s unmoving body, and gathered his son in his arms. “Oh Locke, what happened to you?” Sabre hugged Locke close, cradling the young one’s head against his chest. “Don’t worry, it’s all right, I’m here now. I’ll take care of you.” Sabre tenderly ran his hand through his son’s spines – and that’s when he noticed Locke wasn’t breathing.

“Locke? Son, are you all right?” Sabre asked, his voice beginning to tremble. He drew back and looked at Locke’s face, which remained lifeless even as the brown echidna caressed a cheek with the back of his hand. “Locke? Answer, my son… Oh gods no! It’s not true!” Sabre felt the first tears running on his cheeks before he knew it. He hugged Locke once again, now in a desperate way. “It’s not true! You can’t be dead!” he sobbed in denial. “Wake up, Locke! I beg of you, wake up!”

But Locke stayed still, and Sabre sobbed even harder. The elder echidna then felt a hand on his shoulder, and raised watery eyes to see his fifth-father Spectre looking down at him. He’d probably heard him scream. The dark echidna’s gaze was soft and full of compassion as he looked at the crying father. “I’m sorry, Sabre,” he said quietly.

“What are you sorry for? This isn’t your fault and besides he’ll recover. Right, Locke? You’re stronger than that; you’ll be running around again soon.” Spectre shook his head, listening to Sabre’s words. Apparently he was still in denial of what was going on. “It’s not as if he were dead, is it?”

“Sabre-” Spectre began sadly.

“He can’t be dead, you hear me? He is not dead!” Sabre said, the tears still flowing from his dark blue eyes. “He can’t die now that he realized he could get a life! He can’t die now that I realized I’ve never told him how much I love him! It can’t happen!” On impulse Sabre got up and threw himself against Spectre, which surprised the black echidna. “It can’t happen,” the younger one whimpered.

Spectre sighed and gently began to pat his fifth-son on the back as he sobbed in his dark robes. He realized just how young Sabre really was behind that mask of his, but he acted so mature and calm at times it made him sound like he was twenty years older. “I’ve called the others,” Spectre whispered to Sabre. “They’ll be here soon.”

Sabre nodded weakly in his fifth-father’s shoulder, his whole body shaking with sobs. Spectre made shushing noises as he did his best to comfort his grandson. “Ssh, calm down Sabre,” he whispered while gently caressing his fifth-son’s back. “You’re doing yourself harm. Calm down.”

“Why him, Grandfather?” Sabre choked in between sobs. “Why Locke?”

“I don’t know, Sabre. I really don’t know.”

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No words can describe a father’s tears; no one can heal his broken heart.

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Sabre the Echidna was standing in the medical wing, gazing absently at his still unmoving son lying on a bed. Locke had many electrodes fixed on his body that were connected to a machine. It monitored the echidna’s blood pressure and heartbeats. A thin tube in Locke’s nose provided him all the oxygen he needed to stay alive.

Alive. Half an hour earlier Sabre thought his son was really dead; but then Father Athair had arrived and, as shocked as he was, had immediately told everyone that Locke wasn’t dead. How he knew it was beyond Sabre: Athair had just kneeled by Locke on the floor and had put a hand to his heart. The flying echidna had just smiled and said: “He’s alive.”

Alive. This word brought so much relief and joy to Sabre. According to Athair, Locke had focused his Emerald powers on his heart to make it beat at a normal rate. That’s why he’d stopped breathing; his lungs weren’t physically functioning. It was a good strategy, but he wouldn’t have been able to hold on much longer without oxygen. Apart from his heart, all of his muscles lacked oxygen and he probably wouldn’t be able to move normally for a week. As for the others injuries they’d noticed many deep gashes, which Athair bandaged easily, along with a broken arm, two broken ribs and some spine damage. He’d been lucky a rib hadn’t pierced a lung, but Spectre feared he’d be paralysed for life, like Hawking rolling around in his wheelchair.

And here was Sabre, now, waiting for Locke to wake up. He wanted to be the first thing his son would see when opening his eyes. Quietly he reached over and took Locke’s bandaged hand in his own. I swear, Locke, when I find out who did this to you, I’ll make the bastard’s life a living hell. Sabre gently squeezed his son’s hand. To him it was obvious Locke hadn’t gotten hurt alone; something or someone had had a hand in it.

Sabre’s head shot up when he heard the younger one groan. Locke seemed to be struggling against his wounds, even in his unconscious state. Sabre’s son shifted on the bed, apparently in great pain, and it infuriated his father to be so helpless. Sabre could do nothing but gently pat the hand he held and use words to comfort his hurt son. “Hey there, Locke,” he whispered. “Everything is all right, now. You can rest, don’t struggle anymore.”

His son seemed to hear him, because he calmed down somewhat and opened his eyes half-way. Locke’s usually bright blue eyes had fallen to a grim grey, clouded by pain and despair. Sabre smiled weakly and ran his hand on his son’s cheek. “Don’t worry, Locke, we’re here.” Locke weakly squeezed his father’s hand and his features tensed in pain. “Now don’t move. Father Athair said we couldn’t give you painkillers yet because of the lack of oxygen in your blood. It could do you more harm than good.”

Locke blinked to signal he understood, then dozed off and fell into dreamland where he could fully rest. Sabre bent and kissed his son on the forehead, carefully avoiding the healing gashes on Locke’s head. “Rest well, son.”

Sabre sat down just when the door opened and Thunderhawk walked in. The elder echidna nodded in greetings and turned to Locke. “Is everything all right?” he asked.

“Everything’s going smoothly so far,” Sabre said. “I just hope we’ll be able to give him painkillers soon. It kills me to see him in so much pain.” And it really did; Sabre couldn’t bear the sight of his son hurting. He wanted nothing but take the pain in his son’s place, but unfortunately he couldn’t. And that’s what maddened him.

Thunderhawk nodded respectfully and held his hand up. “I’ve found this in the corridor near Locke’s bedroom,” he informed. “I thought it might interest you.”

Sabre looked up to see Thunderhawk extending an open palm, and in his palm a black ring. One of those echidnas used to slip on their spines. This one was thin leather, with one side torn up as if it had been ripped off in hurry. Or in a fight. Sabre frowned. “I’ve never seen this sort of ring before. Whose do you think it is?”

“I don’t want to jump to conclusions, but I believe I saw Lara-Le’s new husband wearing some.” Thunderhawk gave the ring to Sabre. “If that can be of any help.”

“Thank you, Grandfather. I’ll stay with Locke and try to figure this out.” Thunderhawk nodded and left quietly. Sabre’s gaze fell on the black torn up ring in his hand. I know a certain someone who has some explaining to do…

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Lara-Le sighed as she put the books back where they belonged. Wynmacher had had a mood swing in the morning and had knocked the books shelves off. To think she had just asked him how he felt… Lara couldn’t even imagine what his reaction would have been if she’d asked what had happened the day before.

Something happened, and apparently something bad. I can’t remember seeing him so upset about anything before. Lara made the mental note to figure it out later, when a paper fell out of a book. She frowned; she didn’t remember seeing any torn out page in a book, so what was this? She bent down and picked the paper up; only it wasn’t a paper. It was a photo, and when she saw it Lara smiled.

On the picture was Locke, grinning sheepishly while he scratched the back of his head. He was wearing an apron upon which was written “Kiss the cook”, and behind him a black dust-covered kitchen could be seen. Lara chuckled as she remembered Locke’s first attempt at cooking, which had ended up with them both eating out. It was before Knuckles was born, and they had been married for six months. Locke had wanted to cook dinner in order to celebrate her twenty-first birthday; unfortunately things didn’t go as planned.

Lara-Le smiled. Those were the good old times when Locke would come home every day and spend time with her. But soon after he got distant, and there were times she wouldn’t hear any of him for a week. But he has changed, she reminded herself. She was about to put the photo on a shelf… but then decided against it and took out the book it had fallen from. It was an old photo album; she sat on the sofa and opened it.

There were tons, and boy do I mean tons, of old photos. She picked up one at random and her smile broadened. This one had been taken during one of their first dates. Which was weird, because Lara hadn’t remembered taking a camera to begin with, but it wasn’t until later that she discovered Athair had snuck up to take a picture or two. This date had been wonderful: they’d been on a picnic by a lake, and they had had a water fight. Oh she remembered it all too well…

Lara was jerked out of her memories when someone knocked on her door. She swiftly closed the photo album and put back on its shelf; if that was Wynmacher, he would not take too well her looking through photos of her and Locke. Lara then got up and opened the door.

Imagine her surprise when she found Sabre, her ex-father-in-law, on her doorstep. He smiled and nodded to her. “Good morning, Lara-Le. I hope I’m not interrupting anything.”

“No, come in,” she said as she let him in. Sabre nodded and walked in the apartment. “If I may ask… what did you come for?”

“I’ve been thinking you’d like to hear some news,” Sabre said. Lara raised one quizzical eyebrow; she didn’t know Sabre that much, but she did know he never stopped by to tell news. “I’ll go straight to the point, Lara-Le. Locke is lying half-dead in Haven’s medical wing.”

Lara was so shocked it took her some time to register what the elder male had just said. Locke? Dying? No it can’t be! In her denial she blurted out the first thing that came to her mind. “B-but how? Are you sure?” She immediately realized that if Sabre was there, then he was deadly sure of what he was saying.

Sabre sighed. “I’m pretty sure. I wouldn’t be there if I wasn’t. But I haven’t come just to tell you this, Lara-Le.” The female saw him shift his weight from one foot to the other. “It may seem strange to you, but… I have to know. Does this belong to your husband?” Sabre opened a clenched fist and Lara-Le frowned upon seeing a torn-up black ring. It was vaguely reminding her of the ones Wynmacher used to wear on his spines.

“Yes, I think it does. But why do you have it?”

Sabre once again sighed. “We found this in one of Haven’s corridors, not far from where Locke was attacked. We… well, in truth, I think Wynmacher could be the one who mutilated Locke. Has he acted strange lately?”

“Well, he did act strange ever since he came back late last night,” Lara said, gradually putting two and two together. “And… he was drenched with blood too. When I asked him what had happened he just told me he got caught in a brawl, but I don’t believe him. He was reeking alcohol, too.” Lara didn’t know why she was telling Sabre all this, maybe because of her concern for Locke. “I don’t recall if he was missing any spine ring.”

Her ex-father-in-law seemed deep in thoughts, nodding every now and then. Who knew what was going through that mind of his; a father’s fury could be so powerful and deadly. Sabre finally looked up at her. “Although I deeply suspect your husband, Lara-Le, I won’t jump to conclusions. Could you try and question him when he gets home?” When she nodded he handed her the black leather ring. “Here. Keep this just in case.”

With a wave of the hand, Sabre opened the door and got out of the apartment before Lara-Le could say goodbye. She just stood here, the leather ring in her hand.

Gods. What just happened?

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Sabre sighed as he walked along the stony path leading to one of the houses on the outskirts of Echidnaopolis. Hands clasped behind his back, he kicked off small rocks and his eyes were glued to the grass his feet were walking upon. How in the seven hells was he going to pull that off? Should he go straight to the point, as he had done with Lara-Le, or should he be more subtle?

By the time he pondered that thought over, Sabre had arrived in front of the house. It was a small cottage, built with reddish bricks and surrounded by a huge garden. He smiled upon seeing the bright flowers, the healthy-looking bushes, and took a big breath. This smelt like home. Like his home.

“Sabre! You’re here!” a female voice exclaimed. The Guardian turned his head to see a red-furred female echidna standing in the open doorway, dressed in a gardening outfit and holding some sort of cutter. Her hair was drawn back in a ponytail, and her olive-colored eyes shimmered while looking at him. Sabre smiled; apparently, his wife Jenna-Lu hadn’t expected him to be there when she opened the door to the garden.

The male opened his arms. “Yes, I’m home, Jenna.” She didn’t waste a second and ran square into his embrace, dropping her cutter while running. Wrapping both her arms around his neck, Jenna hugged her husband with an unbelievable force and pecked his cheek. Sabre smiled and returned her hug lovingly.

“I was worried,” Jenna said as she laid her head on his chest. “You usually contact me every couple of days, and I haven’t received any news from you in a week. Did something happen at Haven? Was there a problem with the communicators?”

Sabre shifted nervously; how one was supposed to tell a mother her son was dying? “I... well, there wasn’t any problem with the communicators. I have come to talk with you, Jenna. It’s a serious matter.”

His wife looked up at him with raised eyebrows. “What’s wrong? Locke is giving you trouble again? Sabre, I’ve told you he is still young, he still has to learn.”

“Well, although it could be put that way, it isn’t what I have come to speak about.” Sabre sighed once again. “Could we at least go inside to talk about it?”

“Sure, darling, come on!” Jenna grabbed his hand and pulled him in the house, an action who made Sabre smile. His wife had always been very impatient and impulsive when it came to her only son. Together they sat on a sofa in front of each other. “So, what is it, Sabre?”

The Guardian took a big breath to get ready and began talking. “Last night... well, we aren’t sure about the time, but it has to be last night... someone trepassed into Haven. We don’t know who it was, we don’t know what he was doing here, but we know he was after Locke.” Jenna widened her eyes, and then she grabbed Sabre’s hand once again.

“How is our son, Sabre?” she asked, concerned.

“Well, he...” Sabre looked up. He couldn’t bring himself to lie. “He is dying, Jenna.”

The red female gasped, her expression a mixture of shock, deep sadness and horror. She shook her head in denial, tears prinkling at the corners of her eyes. “No, it can’t be. Locke is strong, he is a Guardian, he can’t be killed like that...” she whispered under her breath.

Sabre brought his hand up to cup one of her cheeks. “Father Athair said that Locke might survive, there is a weak possibilty. But I don’t want to let my hopes go up too quickly. The higher you climb, the harder you fall. However I trust Locke, and I think he will make it.” Sabre pulled Jenna close and hugged her to his chest, caressing her back as she cried. Her husband rocked her gently and whispered to her: “I have come here to bring you to Haven. If this week is the last Locke lives, then I want him to be with us until... until it is over.”

Jenna just sobbed harder, but she nodded in Sabre’s shoulder. She would go to Haven, and take care of her son until he was well again or until... she wouldn’t even think about it.

“When do you think you can come?” Sabre asked as Jenna’s sobbing calmed down.

The red female wiped her eyes. “Now. Let’s go to Haven.”

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The clock rang. It was 7 p.m.

Wyn wil be home soon, Lara-Le thought. And then he’ll have some explanations t give me. For at least the twentieth time this afternoon, she observed the black leather ring in her palm. Could it really be Wyn’s? Could her husband have really tried to kill Locke?

At first Lara had rejected the idea. Wyn wasn’t that type of man, and even if he hated Locke he wouldn’t kill him. But then she had thought about it carefully, and indeed too many things proved that Wyn was the culprit. First off he was angry at Locke for spending a day with Lara, and he had disappeared most of the night. Then he had come home soaked in blood and reeking alcohol. And finally, this: a black ring found in Haven, the same sort Wyn wore.

Yes, some explanations, indeed, Lara thought just as the front door opened. It was Wynmacher, who was coming back from work. Ignoring Lara-Le, he strode over to the sofa and collapsed on it, groaning. “My head, it hurts!” he moaned grasping his skull.

Lara crossed her arms in front of her. She had half a mind to tell him “Serves you well, that is for drinking alcohol,” but she didn’t. There was another matter at hand. “Too bad, I have a few questions to ask you. For starters, where have you been last night?”

Wyn groaned. “I’ve already told you-”

“No, Wyn, I mean where have you really been last night?”

Feeling cornered, the male rolled on his side and moaned. Maybe playing dumb would work, who knew. Unfortunately for him, Lara wouldn’t buy it. “I believe I’ve asked you something, Wynmacher,” the female said dryly. Her husband cringed; it had been a while since she hadn’t called him by the nickname “Wyn”. Which meant she was angry. Which meant he was in serious trouble.

“Can’t we talk about it later?” he risked.

“No, Wynmacher. We’re talking now.”

“But where do you think I’ve been? It’s not like I went out of town,” Wyn growled.

“Oh sure, forgive me, it’s not like you went to Haven, after all...” Wynmacher froze at those words. She knows... oh my god, she knows! “It’s not like you tried to kill Locke-”

“And what makes you think that I did?” he barked, abruptly sitting up. He dropped the dumb act and glared heatingly at his wife.

“This makes me think that you did,” she answered while showing him the black leather ring. “Locke’s father, Sabre, said they found it near the place where Locke was attacked last night. What do you have to say for yourself?”

Wynmacher stood gaping at the object. Now he was as good as dead. He might as well... “You have to understand, Lara.”

“Understand what?”

“That he asked for it!” Wynmacher blurted out without thinking. “He already had his chance, but he failed, and now he is trying to win you over again! He acts all sweet and kind, and I was angry and I didn’t know what came over me and this is now!” His words were coming on top of each others as he rambled on and on to defend himself.

But Lara-Le wasn’t even listening to him. Ever since he began admiting that he tried to kill Locke, her mind had shut down. Wynmacher, her husband, had tried to murder her ex-husband out of jealousy. It looked awfully like one of those drama movies she sometimes saw on TV.

“Please try to understand!” Wynmacher pleaded. “All the while I wanted to protect you, I didn’t want you to suffer at his hands once again!”

This brought Lara back on Mobius. “Protect me? Don’t try to fool me around, Wynmacher, you were just jealous. Dead jealous, in fact, that I spent some time with Locke without you knowing. Whereas he never tried to harm you in a any way, and in this way he is far more understanding that you’ll ever be.

“I know we aren’t married anymore, Wynmacher, but no matter what we will always share a bond in a way. I’ve already told you this, but we have a son, we both are Knuckles’ parents!”

“So, you mean that just because we had no kid together, I am nothing to you?” the male growled.

Lara-Le sighed. He was the culprit, still she had to give explanations. “I haven’t said that. I just want you to understand that Locke and I are close, and that’s no reason to try and kill him.”

“I mostly understand that you’re seeing another man behind my back, ex-husband or not,” Wynmacher said, and his words finally pushed Lara over the edge.

“All right, you know what? I’m sure you can live by yourself for a week or two, because I’m going to Haven to help Locke. After what Sabre said, it’s going to be awhile until he is fully healed, but that’s fine. The longer, the better, goodbye Wynmacher.” Lara-Le strode up to their bedroom and grabbed the bag that was resting on the bed. She had informed the Brotherhood that she would come to Haven, and surprisingly the Guardians had accepted, even rather gratefully. Lara had planned to go there the next day, but with Wynmacher and that new turn of things, she couldn’t stand being in the same room than this man for another night.

“Lara,” Wynmacher called. “What are you doing?”

“What I should have done at the beginning,” Lara dryly responded. Without a last glance back, she opened the door and went out, carrying her bag.

Locke. I’m coming.

Description
Sabre the Echidna yawned as he closed the door of his bedroom. He had slept wonderfully well this night, and now his stomach was growling angrily, wanting to be filled. I guess I better go to the kitchen and see who’s awake, Sabre thought.

The echidna made his way towards Haven’s kitchen/ He walked past Thunderhawk’s slightly opened door and winced when he heard the snores coming from the bedroom. I wonder how Grandfather Sojourner’s mother was able to stand these, he mused, chuckling as he continued walking. Maybe she was deaf, or perhaps she would put his pillow in Grandfather Thunderhawk’s mouth. Who knows?

Two minutes later, Sabre arrived in front of the kitchen. He stood in the doorway, smiling.

Father Athair was in one of his overly cheerful moods – but then when wasn’t he ever? He was making pancakes waffles, hovering between the frying pan and the waffle-iron while humming to himself. Seated at the table, Fifth-father Spectre was looking quite sleepy. Sabre could tell it judging by his tired red eyes, but also because Spectre was holding a waffle in his hand while spreading strawberry jam on his wrist.

Then Sabre noticed he could see his fifth-father’s skin under his jet black fur. It was raw and red, as if Spectre had been scratching it for hours.

“Hello, Father and Fifth-father,” Sabre greeted. “Did you sleep well?”

Whereas Athair smiled broadly and nodded, Spectre groaned. When he saw his fifth-son raise an eyebrow, the black echidna looked up. “You don’t know how hard it is to get paint out of your fur,” Spectre said tiredly. “I spent the first half of the night scrubbing my fur, and let me tell you Sojourner won’t try that little stunt again anytime soon.”

Sabre chuckled in advance; Spectre’s punishments were as unpredictable as they were ridiculous. “What did you do to him?”

“Exactly what he did to me, only it wasn’t water or paint I threw on him.” A grin crept its way on Spectre’s lips, and Sabre shuddered. “It was glue.”

The brown echidna gasped. No wonder Sojourner wasn’t in the kitchen; the poor guy must be still trying to get rid of the glue! Which he noticed seemed to greatly amuse Spectre. “You’re one sick echidna, Grandfather,” Sabre joked.

“I know, but he’ll get over it. Eventually.” Spectre held his waffle up to take a bite out of it, but he bit his hand instead. “Spawn of Dimitri!” he cursed as he squeezed his wounded hand. Sabre just chuckled and took a seat across from his fifth-father.

“Incoming!” Athair shouted. To Sabre’s surprise the flying echidna’s fist fell down hard on the pan’s handle, and the pancakes that were in it were flung across the kitchen. Sabre gaped, but Spectre just held his plate up and the pancakes landed square in it. The dark one chuckled at Sabre’s dumbfounded expression.

“He’s been doing that for an hour, as you can see.” Spectre motioned to the wall behind them, and for the first time Sabre noticed the pancakes that were glued there. There were also some on the ground, and one lonely waffle on the ceiling. “Thanks Edmund, he got it right after the twentieth attempt,” Spectre sighed, dropping a lump of sugar in his glass of orange juice and stirring it with a knife.

Needless to say Sabre was as amused as he was puzzled. He was about to say something when his fifth-father took a “knifeful” – if that word is even possible – of orange juice to taste it. He winced and put more sugar in his glass. “Athair, what did you put in the coffee this morning? It tastes horrible.” Spectre stuck his tongue out in disgust, and used his knife to put sugar in his glass.

Sabre began chuckling as Spectre scattered sugar on the table, earning himself a dark glare from the tired echidna. “What are you laughing about, Fifth-son?”

“N-nothing. Are you feeling well Grandfather?” Sabre asked, biting back some snickers.

“I’m fine, just a little tired.” Spectre sighed once again and began to mild-absently cut his waffle with his spoon. I can see that, Sabre thought as he watched his fifth-father struggle to cut the waffle. He finally adverted his eyes, fearing that he would crack up. Must not laugh… oh gods he’s so stupid… no, don’t laugh… don’t…

“Damn these things, they don’t cut!” Spectre growled. “Maybe we should replace the knives, they’re getting old.”

And I know some relative of mine who does as well…

“Why don’t you try with a fork instead, Fourth-father?” Athair cheerfully exclaimed. “And hurry up, your orange juice is getting cold.”

Sabre couldn’t take it anymore, and began laughing out loud while Spectre glared. “Very funny, Athair. But you’ve got one point, my coffee is getting cold.” And with that Spectre got up and put his overly sugared glass of orange juice in the microwave and turned it on. Sabre burst out laughing, holding his sides. Spectre cast him a puzzled look. “You’re acting quite strangely this morning, Fifth-son.”

“You’re one to talk!” Sabre choked.

Thunderhawk chose this moment to step in the kitchen. He raised one eyebrow upon seeing his growling father and laughing fourth-son. “I guess it is safer not to ask any question,” the lavender echidna simply said.

“You’ve guessed right,” Spectre said as he took his glass of orange juice out of the microwave and blew the steam away. “I don’t know what got into him.”

Thunderhawk widened his eyes at the glass, casting a glance in Sabre’s direction. The younger echidna shrugged, dissolving in another laughing fit. Thunderhawk shook his head and was about to reason with his father when Athair yelled: “Incoming!” and hurled the pancakes as he had done earlier. And before he could even say: “Holy Edmund eating a banana!”, two pancakes plastered themselves against Thunderhawk’s face. Burning hot pancakes.

Thunderhawk gave off a yell of pain as the pancakes burned his lavender fur. he danced in place and growled as Sabre fell off his chair, now howling with laughter. “Are you going to sit there and laugh or are you going to help me?”

“I’d rather sit there and laugh!” Sabre said.

Thunderhawk humped and brought his hands up to get the pancakes off, wincing when he felt the heat on his skin. “Damn you, Athair, why do you always have to make others suffer from your stupidity?” He ripped the burning pancakes off, ignoring the pain as he threw them to Athair. “Hair-stuffed pancakes. Help yourself.”

By the time Sabre had calmed down enough to sit on his chair, Thunderhawk had taken a seat and Sojourner had arrived.

If Sabre had been surprised by Spectre’s appearance, then he was completely flabbergasted by Sojourner’s. The red echidna was literally missing entire patches of fur, and what remained of it was bristled and standing on end. The furless spots showed red scratched skin, and Sojourner was looking quite annoyed.

“What happened to you, son,” Thunderhawk asked, more amused than concerned.

“Ask dear Grandfather Spectre here,” Sojourner grumbled while grabbing a plate. “I think he knows.”

“We’re square now, Second-son,” Spectre replied while sipping his coffee. Sorry, orange juice. “I got you back, that’s all. You wouldn’t be in this mess if you hadn’t started it all.”

“But I do maintain glue was pretty low, even for you,” Sojourned snarled.

“Then it suits you perfectly.”

“Do you have any idea how hard it is to wash glue off your fur?” the red one shouted, furious. “I spent the entire night in the bathroom, I even had to shave or rip off some glued fur! I see you didn’t have to do that!”

“It’ll grow back, don’t worry.”

Sabre shook his head as he listened to his fighting relatives. They could be so helpless at times, but at the same time he couldn’t help but love them. They were the way they were, end of the story, and he could do nothing to prevent it.

But then something occurred to him: Locke wasn’t here. His son was never one to get up late unless he was really exhausted – which couldn’t be the case. Locke rarely skipped a meal for no apparent reason. His son’s absence normally wouldn’t worry Sabre, but he couldn’t help a bad feeling from setting in his mind.

“Has anyone seen Locke?” Sabre asked.

“I saw him yesterday before going to bed,” Spectre said. “But I haven’t seen him yet this morning.”

“Knowing your son, he’s either in his lab working on a machine or in the surveillance room stalking Lara-Le,” Thunderhawk grunted. “Or else he forgot to wake up.”

Fourth-father must be right; then again this doesn’t look like Locke. He usually is the first one to wake up. I have to check on him. “I’ll get him,” Sabre announced as he got up, but Spectre motioned for him to sit down.

“Let your son breathe a little, will you? He’ll come around, just eat a pancake or two and he’ll be there before you know it. Now sit down.”

Sabre sighed and sat back down. He knew he was being overprotective, but he easily showed concern when it came to his only son. His fathers would often tell him to leave Locke alone while Sabre thought what he was doing was what was best for him. He loved his son and hated to see him sad or hurt. I’m just being paranoid. Locke’s probably fine.

The five males ate breakfast in silence, with Spectre and Sojourner exchanging dark glances every now and then. Half an hour later, the echidnas put their plates in the sink; Locke was nowhere to be seen.

“That’s it, I’m looking for him,” Sabre said as he walked out of the kitchen. “I’ve got a bad feeling about this.”

“Take it easy, Sabre,” Thunderhawk said calmly. “Your son probably fell asleep in front of a computer screen again.”

“I just hope you’re right, Grandfather.”

Sabre strode in the corridors, heading towards the surveillance room. May Grandfather Thunderhawk be right, he thought. I know he probably is, so why the hell am I so worried?

The brown echidna arrived in front of the surveillance room and, wasting no time, opened the door. The room was empty, and all the computers screens were blank. Okay, don’t panic. He’s probably working in his lab. It would be extremely unusual of him to skip breakfast like that, but oh well.

Sabre closed the door or the surveillance room, hurrying towards his son’s lab. Which was as empty as the surveillance room. Last option: his bedroom. He’d better be in there, or else… Sabre couldn’t bear the thought of Locke vanishing like that. There had to be an explanation for this. His paternal instincts kicked in, and Sabre took off running in Locke’s bedroom’s direction. He tried to calm his raging mind. All right, he just slept in. That must be it. Totally out of character, but it must be. It has to be. Braking in front of Locke’s door, Sabre took a big breath and opened it.

Empty. The bed’s sheets were neatly folded in a pile on the mattress. And Sabre remembered Locke had washed his sheets the day before. That could only mean one thing: Locke had never slept there that night. What the hell happened? Sabre brushed his scared thoughts off and sent out a mental call.

Locke? Where are you son? No one answered him. It was like Locke had shut his mind tight and allowed no other in it. That or his son was… Sabre shook his head. He couldn’t even envisage the thought of Locke dying. It was far too terrifying. Locke, for Edmund’s sake, answer me! Where are you! Still nothing; Sabre felt the bile rise in his throat.

He took off running once again in the corridors. “Grandfathers! I can’t find Locke!” he shouted.

It wasn’t long before the others came up to him. Athair and Spectre were looking concerned, as Thunderhawk grumbled and Sojourner rolled his eyes. “Are you sure, Sabre?” Spectre asked. “Did you check everywhere?”

“Yes I did! I’ve been to the surveillance room then to the lab then his bedroom!” Sabre said quickly, panic rising in his voice. “Then I tried to contact him but he won’t answer! Something happened to him, Fifth-father!”

Spectre rubbed his chin for a moment, thinking. “He won’t answer, you say? Well then I guess something happened. Locke wouldn’t block one of us out like that.” He pointed north. “Thunderhawk, Sojourner, you two go this way. See if you can find Locke. Athair, you go south. Sabre, come with me, we’ll go west. First one to find him alert the others, understood?”

They all nodded and went separate ways. Sabre began wishing he knew what was going on at all. He hurried forwards to catch up with Spectre, who was walking fast ahead. “Where do you think he could be?” Sabre asked, concern edging in his voice.

Spectre sighed. “If I knew we wouldn’t be looking for him right now. Did you check his lab and the surveillance room?” Sabre nodded. “All right, let’s go to the conference room. Then we’ll go to the elevator bay and see from there. It’ll be harder if we can’t contact him, but it’ll have to do.”

And off they were. But as Sabre feared, the conference room was empty, and so was the elevator bay. And Spectre was seriously going to lose his temper. Thunderhawk, he mentally called, have you two found something, son?

No, Father. We’ve checked the food storages and all the rooms in the north and east aisles, Thunderhawk answered, now sounding a bit concerned. Athair is with us, and he says he hadn’t got any luck in the south aisle.

“Well, I think that leaves only a few options,” Spectre sighed. “I’ll check the medical wing and you go to the ship bay. I’m afraid Locke has left Haven, Sabre, but we better make sure of that before alerting anyone.” Sabre nodded, and departed towards the ship bay. He still didn’t know why Locke would hide or leave Haven; after all the day before had been quite nice, so his son had no reason to leave.

As he neared the ship bay, Sabre somehow felt he was getting close. His pace quickened, and his hopes got up as he took a last turn. There, metallic walls smelled of turmoil, of a Guardian’s previous presence. Sabre looked up and began to shout: “Locke! Where are you son? Locke!” The brown echidna received no answer, though he sped up even more. And when he finally arrived at the ship bay, he stopped dead and his blood froze.

There was a sight he had never seen, not even in his worst nightmare. At the bottom of some metallic stairs, Locke was lying on a side, unmoving and not breathing. And there was so much blood everywhere! On the stairs, on the floor… and on Locke too. Sabre remained frozen in place, unable to take his eyes off of his son bathing in a pool of his own blood – then something clicked in his mind and he screamed his son’s name. “Locke!”

Sabre bolted down the stairs. He didn’t care if he slipped and fell as well, he just wanted to be with his son, to take him in his arms and hold him close. He fell on his knees beside Locke’s unmoving body, and gathered his son in his arms. “Oh Locke, what happened to you?” Sabre hugged Locke close, cradling the young one’s head against his chest. “Don’t worry, it’s all right, I’m here now. I’ll take care of you.” Sabre tenderly ran his hand through his son’s spines – and that’s when he noticed Locke wasn’t breathing.

“Locke? Son, are you all right?” Sabre asked, his voice beginning to tremble. He drew back and looked at Locke’s face, which remained lifeless even as the brown echidna caressed a cheek with the back of his hand. “Locke? Answer, my son… Oh gods no! It’s not true!” Sabre felt the first tears running on his cheeks before he knew it. He hugged Locke once again, now in a desperate way. “It’s not true! You can’t be dead!” he sobbed in denial. “Wake up, Locke! I beg of you, wake up!”

But Locke stayed still, and Sabre sobbed even harder. The elder echidna then felt a hand on his shoulder, and raised watery eyes to see his fifth-father Spectre looking down at him. He’d probably heard him scream. The dark echidna’s gaze was soft and full of compassion as he looked at the crying father. “I’m sorry, Sabre,” he said quietly.

“What are you sorry for? This isn’t your fault and besides he’ll recover. Right, Locke? You’re stronger than that; you’ll be running around again soon.” Spectre shook his head, listening to Sabre’s words. Apparently he was still in denial of what was going on. “It’s not as if he were dead, is it?”

“Sabre-” Spectre began sadly.

“He can’t be dead, you hear me? He is not dead!” Sabre said, the tears still flowing from his dark blue eyes. “He can’t die now that he realized he could get a life! He can’t die now that I realized I’ve never told him how much I love him! It can’t happen!” On impulse Sabre got up and threw himself against Spectre, which surprised the black echidna. “It can’t happen,” the younger one whimpered.

Spectre sighed and gently began to pat his fifth-son on the back as he sobbed in his dark robes. He realized just how young Sabre really was behind that mask of his, but he acted so mature and calm at times it made him sound like he was twenty years older. “I’ve called the others,” Spectre whispered to Sabre. “They’ll be here soon.”

Sabre nodded weakly in his fifth-father’s shoulder, his whole body shaking with sobs. Spectre made shushing noises as he did his best to comfort his grandson. “Ssh, calm down Sabre,” he whispered while gently caressing his fifth-son’s back. “You’re doing yourself harm. Calm down.”

“Why him, Grandfather?” Sabre choked in between sobs. “Why Locke?”

“I don’t know, Sabre. I really don’t know.”

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

No words can describe a father’s tears; no one can heal his broken heart.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Sabre the Echidna was standing in the medical wing, gazing absently at his still unmoving son lying on a bed. Locke had many electrodes fixed on his body that were connected to a machine. It monitored the echidna’s blood pressure and heartbeats. A thin tube in Locke’s nose provided him all the oxygen he needed to stay alive.

Alive. Half an hour earlier Sabre thought his son was really dead; but then Father Athair had arrived and, as shocked as he was, had immediately told everyone that Locke wasn’t dead. How he knew it was beyond Sabre: Athair had just kneeled by Locke on the floor and had put a hand to his heart. The flying echidna had just smiled and said: “He’s alive.”

Alive. This word brought so much relief and joy to Sabre. According to Athair, Locke had focused his Emerald powers on his heart to make it beat at a normal rate. That’s why he’d stopped breathing; his lungs weren’t physically functioning. It was a good strategy, but he wouldn’t have been able to hold on much longer without oxygen. Apart from his heart, all of his muscles lacked oxygen and he probably wouldn’t be able to move normally for a week. As for the others injuries they’d noticed many deep gashes, which Athair bandaged easily, along with a broken arm, two broken ribs and some spine damage. He’d been lucky a rib hadn’t pierced a lung, but Spectre feared he’d be paralysed for life, like Hawking rolling around in his wheelchair.

And here was Sabre, now, waiting for Locke to wake up. He wanted to be the first thing his son would see when opening his eyes. Quietly he reached over and took Locke’s bandaged hand in his own. I swear, Locke, when I find out who did this to you, I’ll make the bastard’s life a living hell. Sabre gently squeezed his son’s hand. To him it was obvious Locke hadn’t gotten hurt alone; something or someone had had a hand in it.

Sabre’s head shot up when he heard the younger one groan. Locke seemed to be struggling against his wounds, even in his unconscious state. Sabre’s son shifted on the bed, apparently in great pain, and it infuriated his father to be so helpless. Sabre could do nothing but gently pat the hand he held and use words to comfort his hurt son. “Hey there, Locke,” he whispered. “Everything is all right, now. You can rest, don’t struggle anymore.”

His son seemed to hear him, because he calmed down somewhat and opened his eyes half-way. Locke’s usually bright blue eyes had fallen to a grim grey, clouded by pain and despair. Sabre smiled weakly and ran his hand on his son’s cheek. “Don’t worry, Locke, we’re here.” Locke weakly squeezed his father’s hand and his features tensed in pain. “Now don’t move. Father Athair said we couldn’t give you painkillers yet because of the lack of oxygen in your blood. It could do you more harm than good.”

Locke blinked to signal he understood, then dozed off and fell into dreamland where he could fully rest. Sabre bent and kissed his son on the forehead, carefully avoiding the healing gashes on Locke’s head. “Rest well, son.”

Sabre sat down just when the door opened and Thunderhawk walked in. The elder echidna nodded in greetings and turned to Locke. “Is everything all right?” he asked.

“Everything’s going smoothly so far,” Sabre said. “I just hope we’ll be able to give him painkillers soon. It kills me to see him in so much pain.” And it really did; Sabre couldn’t bear the sight of his son hurting. He wanted nothing but take the pain in his son’s place, but unfortunately he couldn’t. And that’s what maddened him.

Thunderhawk nodded respectfully and held his hand up. “I’ve found this in the corridor near Locke’s bedroom,” he informed. “I thought it might interest you.”

Sabre looked up to see Thunderhawk extending an open palm, and in his palm a black ring. One of those echidnas used to slip on their spines. This one was thin leather, with one side torn up as if it had been ripped off in hurry. Or in a fight. Sabre frowned. “I’ve never seen this sort of ring before. Whose do you think it is?”

“I don’t want to jump to conclusions, but I believe I saw Lara-Le’s new husband wearing some.” Thunderhawk gave the ring to Sabre. “If that can be of any help.”

“Thank you, Grandfather. I’ll stay with Locke and try to figure this out.” Thunderhawk nodded and left quietly. Sabre’s gaze fell on the black torn up ring in his hand. I know a certain someone who has some explaining to do…

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Lara-Le sighed as she put the books back where they belonged. Wynmacher had had a mood swing in the morning and had knocked the books shelves off. To think she had just asked him how he felt… Lara couldn’t even imagine what his reaction would have been if she’d asked what had happened the day before.

Something happened, and apparently something bad. I can’t remember seeing him so upset about anything before. Lara made the mental note to figure it out later, when a paper fell out of a book. She frowned; she didn’t remember seeing any torn out page in a book, so what was this? She bent down and picked the paper up; only it wasn’t a paper. It was a photo, and when she saw it Lara smiled.

On the picture was Locke, grinning sheepishly while he scratched the back of his head. He was wearing an apron upon which was written “Kiss the cook”, and behind him a black dust-covered kitchen could be seen. Lara chuckled as she remembered Locke’s first attempt at cooking, which had ended up with them both eating out. It was before Knuckles was born, and they had been married for six months. Locke had wanted to cook dinner in order to celebrate her twenty-first birthday; unfortunately things didn’t go as planned.

Lara-Le smiled. Those were the good old times when Locke would come home every day and spend time with her. But soon after he got distant, and there were times she wouldn’t hear any of him for a week. But he has changed, she reminded herself. She was about to put the photo on a shelf… but then decided against it and took out the book it had fallen from. It was an old photo album; she sat on the sofa and opened it.

There were tons, and boy do I mean tons, of old photos. She picked up one at random and her smile broadened. This one had been taken during one of their first dates. Which was weird, because Lara hadn’t remembered taking a camera to begin with, but it wasn’t until later that she discovered Athair had snuck up to take a picture or two. This date had been wonderful: they’d been on a picnic by a lake, and they had had a water fight. Oh she remembered it all too well…

Lara was jerked out of her memories when someone knocked on her door. She swiftly closed the photo album and put back on its shelf; if that was Wynmacher, he would not take too well her looking through photos of her and Locke. Lara then got up and opened the door.

Imagine her surprise when she found Sabre, her ex-father-in-law, on her doorstep. He smiled and nodded to her. “Good morning, Lara-Le. I hope I’m not interrupting anything.”

“No, come in,” she said as she let him in. Sabre nodded and walked in the apartment. “If I may ask… what did you come for?”

“I’ve been thinking you’d like to hear some news,” Sabre said. Lara raised one quizzical eyebrow; she didn’t know Sabre that much, but she did know he never stopped by to tell news. “I’ll go straight to the point, Lara-Le. Locke is lying half-dead in Haven’s medical wing.”

Lara was so shocked it took her some time to register what the elder male had just said. Locke? Dying? No it can’t be! In her denial she blurted out the first thing that came to her mind. “B-but how? Are you sure?” She immediately realized that if Sabre was there, then he was deadly sure of what he was saying.

Sabre sighed. “I’m pretty sure. I wouldn’t be there if I wasn’t. But I haven’t come just to tell you this, Lara-Le.” The female saw him shift his weight from one foot to the other. “It may seem strange to you, but… I have to know. Does this belong to your husband?” Sabre opened a clenched fist and Lara-Le frowned upon seeing a torn-up black ring. It was vaguely reminding her of the ones Wynmacher used to wear on his spines.

“Yes, I think it does. But why do you have it?”

Sabre once again sighed. “We found this in one of Haven’s corridors, not far from where Locke was attacked. We… well, in truth, I think Wynmacher could be the one who mutilated Locke. Has he acted strange lately?”

“Well, he did act strange ever since he came back late last night,” Lara said, gradually putting two and two together. “And… he was drenched with blood too. When I asked him what had happened he just told me he got caught in a brawl, but I don’t believe him. He was reeking alcohol, too.” Lara didn’t know why she was telling Sabre all this, maybe because of her concern for Locke. “I don’t recall if he was missing any spine ring.”

Her ex-father-in-law seemed deep in thoughts, nodding every now and then. Who knew what was going through that mind of his; a father’s fury could be so powerful and deadly. Sabre finally looked up at her. “Although I deeply suspect your husband, Lara-Le, I won’t jump to conclusions. Could you try and question him when he gets home?” When she nodded he handed her the black leather ring. “Here. Keep this just in case.”

With a wave of the hand, Sabre opened the door and got out of the apartment before Lara-Le could say goodbye. She just stood here, the leather ring in her hand.

Gods. What just happened?

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Sabre sighed as he walked along the stony path leading to one of the houses on the outskirts of Echidnaopolis. Hands clasped behind his back, he kicked off small rocks and his eyes were glued to the grass his feet were walking upon. How in the seven hells was he going to pull that off? Should he go straight to the point, as he had done with Lara-Le, or should he be more subtle?

By the time he pondered that thought over, Sabre had arrived in front of the house. It was a small cottage, built with reddish bricks and surrounded by a huge garden. He smiled upon seeing the bright flowers, the healthy-looking bushes, and took a big breath. This smelt like home. Like his home.

“Sabre! You’re here!” a female voice exclaimed. The Guardian turned his head to see a red-furred female echidna standing in the open doorway, dressed in a gardening outfit and holding some sort of cutter. Her hair was drawn back in a ponytail, and her olive-colored eyes shimmered while looking at him. Sabre smiled; apparently, his wife Jenna-Lu hadn’t expected him to be there when she opened the door to the garden.

The male opened his arms. “Yes, I’m home, Jenna.” She didn’t waste a second and ran square into his embrace, dropping her cutter while running. Wrapping both her arms around his neck, Jenna hugged her husband with an unbelievable force and pecked his cheek. Sabre smiled and returned her hug lovingly.

“I was worried,” Jenna said as she laid her head on his chest. “You usually contact me every couple of days, and I haven’t received any news from you in a week. Did something happen at Haven? Was there a problem with the communicators?”

Sabre shifted nervously; how one was supposed to tell a mother her son was dying? “I... well, there wasn’t any problem with the communicators. I have come to talk with you, Jenna. It’s a serious matter.”

His wife looked up at him with raised eyebrows. “What’s wrong? Locke is giving you trouble again? Sabre, I’ve told you he is still young, he still has to learn.”

“Well, although it could be put that way, it isn’t what I have come to speak about.” Sabre sighed once again. “Could we at least go inside to talk about it?”

“Sure, darling, come on!” Jenna grabbed his hand and pulled him in the house, an action who made Sabre smile. His wife had always been very impatient and impulsive when it came to her only son. Together they sat on a sofa in front of each other. “So, what is it, Sabre?”

The Guardian took a big breath to get ready and began talking. “Last night... well, we aren’t sure about the time, but it has to be last night... someone trepassed into Haven. We don’t know who it was, we don’t know what he was doing here, but we know he was after Locke.” Jenna widened her eyes, and then she grabbed Sabre’s hand once again.

“How is our son, Sabre?” she asked, concerned.

“Well, he...” Sabre looked up. He couldn’t bring himself to lie. “He is dying, Jenna.”

The red female gasped, her expression a mixture of shock, deep sadness and horror. She shook her head in denial, tears prinkling at the corners of her eyes. “No, it can’t be. Locke is strong, he is a Guardian, he can’t be killed like that...” she whispered under her breath.

Sabre brought his hand up to cup one of her cheeks. “Father Athair said that Locke might survive, there is a weak possibilty. But I don’t want to let my hopes go up too quickly. The higher you climb, the harder you fall. However I trust Locke, and I think he will make it.” Sabre pulled Jenna close and hugged her to his chest, caressing her back as she cried. Her husband rocked her gently and whispered to her: “I have come here to bring you to Haven. If this week is the last Locke lives, then I want him to be with us until... until it is over.”

Jenna just sobbed harder, but she nodded in Sabre’s shoulder. She would go to Haven, and take care of her son until he was well again or until... she wouldn’t even think about it.

“When do you think you can come?” Sabre asked as Jenna’s sobbing calmed down.

The red female wiped her eyes. “Now. Let’s go to Haven.”

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The clock rang. It was 7 p.m.

Wyn wil be home soon, Lara-Le thought. And then he’ll have some explanations t give me. For at least the twentieth time this afternoon, she observed the black leather ring in her palm. Could it really be Wyn’s? Could her husband have really tried to kill Locke?

At first Lara had rejected the idea. Wyn wasn’t that type of man, and even if he hated Locke he wouldn’t kill him. But then she had thought about it carefully, and indeed too many things proved that Wyn was the culprit. First off he was angry at Locke for spending a day with Lara, and he had disappeared most of the night. Then he had come home soaked in blood and reeking alcohol. And finally, this: a black ring found in Haven, the same sort Wyn wore.

Yes, some explanations, indeed, Lara thought just as the front door opened. It was Wynmacher, who was coming back from work. Ignoring Lara-Le, he strode over to the sofa and collapsed on it, groaning. “My head, it hurts!” he moaned grasping his skull.

Lara crossed her arms in front of her. She had half a mind to tell him “Serves you well, that is for drinking alcohol,” but she didn’t. There was another matter at hand. “Too bad, I have a few questions to ask you. For starters, where have you been last night?”

Wyn groaned. “I’ve already told you-”

“No, Wyn, I mean where have you really been last night?”

Feeling cornered, the male rolled on his side and moaned. Maybe playing dumb would work, who knew. Unfortunately for him, Lara wouldn’t buy it. “I believe I’ve asked you something, Wynmacher,” the female said dryly. Her husband cringed; it had been a while since she hadn’t called him by the nickname “Wyn”. Which meant she was angry. Which meant he was in serious trouble.

“Can’t we talk about it later?” he risked.

“No, Wynmacher. We’re talking now.”

“But where do you think I’ve been? It’s not like I went out of town,” Wyn growled.

“Oh sure, forgive me, it’s not like you went to Haven, after all...” Wynmacher froze at those words. She knows... oh my god, she knows! “It’s not like you tried to kill Locke-”

“And what makes you think that I did?” he barked, abruptly sitting up. He dropped the dumb act and glared heatingly at his wife.

“This makes me think that you did,” she answered while showing him the black leather ring. “Locke’s father, Sabre, said they found it near the place where Locke was attacked last night. What do you have to say for yourself?”

Wynmacher stood gaping at the object. Now he was as good as dead. He might as well... “You have to understand, Lara.”

“Understand what?”

“That he asked for it!” Wynmacher blurted out without thinking. “He already had his chance, but he failed, and now he is trying to win you over again! He acts all sweet and kind, and I was angry and I didn’t know what came over me and this is now!” His words were coming on top of each others as he rambled on and on to defend himself.

But Lara-Le wasn’t even listening to him. Ever since he began admiting that he tried to kill Locke, her mind had shut down. Wynmacher, her husband, had tried to murder her ex-husband out of jealousy. It looked awfully like one of those drama movies she sometimes saw on TV.

“Please try to understand!” Wynmacher pleaded. “All the while I wanted to protect you, I didn’t want you to suffer at his hands once again!”

This brought Lara back on Mobius. “Protect me? Don’t try to fool me around, Wynmacher, you were just jealous. Dead jealous, in fact, that I spent some time with Locke without you knowing. Whereas he never tried to harm you in a any way, and in this way he is far more understanding that you’ll ever be.

“I know we aren’t married anymore, Wynmacher, but no matter what we will always share a bond in a way. I’ve already told you this, but we have a son, we both are Knuckles’ parents!”

“So, you mean that just because we had no kid together, I am nothing to you?” the male growled.

Lara-Le sighed. He was the culprit, still she had to give explanations. “I haven’t said that. I just want you to understand that Locke and I are close, and that’s no reason to try and kill him.”

“I mostly understand that you’re seeing another man behind my back, ex-husband or not,” Wynmacher said, and his words finally pushed Lara over the edge.

“All right, you know what? I’m sure you can live by yourself for a week or two, because I’m going to Haven to help Locke. After what Sabre said, it’s going to be awhile until he is fully healed, but that’s fine. The longer, the better, goodbye Wynmacher.” Lara-Le strode up to their bedroom and grabbed the bag that was resting on the bed. She had informed the Brotherhood that she would come to Haven, and surprisingly the Guardians had accepted, even rather gratefully. Lara had planned to go there the next day, but with Wynmacher and that new turn of things, she couldn’t stand being in the same room than this man for another night.

“Lara,” Wynmacher called. “What are you doing?”

“What I should have done at the beginning,” Lara dryly responded. Without a last glance back, she opened the door and went out, carrying her bag.

Locke. I’m coming.