-= Gone =-

The morning sun was sizzling against the cold air. Chilly gusts of harsh wind carried the white sprays from the cliffs up the shoreline, and whisked away the dulled murmurs and subdued chatter of the Brotherhood Galleon's crew, packing up the last of their supplies. They'd been anchored to the Duruga coast for one day, to retrieve their cargo, and were in a hurry to leave before the winds picked up further speed.

Miles "Tails" Prower, Initiate of the Brotherhood of Thamael, sat on one of the crates, kicking sand up into the air with his boots, watching it disperse and blow away, dissipating and vanishing out above the rocking waves.

A light, slender hand curled around his own for the millionth time.

"There isn't much time, Miles. Let's go."

"Marr..." he said, resisting every urge to turn and look at her. "This isn't right... we never found them."

"Then let it go, my love. They won't make this journey again, not even for us."

"But you don't understand."

A flock of seagulls appeared as silhouettes against the faded dawn, and disappeared again.

"Miles, I don't think you understand." She got up, and knelt down in front of him, staring at him with shiny, pleading eyes. "This is it! This is our last chance! Do you want to be stuck in this place forever?"

Forever.

It was a funny word. It had found its way into so many promises.

The corner of Tails' mouth twitched. There was something about the soundscape now that put him at ease. It was sublime. He closed his eyes and breathed slow, not even hearing the sound of the air being sucked in between his teeth.

"For gods' sakes, Miles! Come on!"

But nothing is really forever, of course.

"Anchors are going up!" Tails could hear one of the labourers shouting, but the words weren't registering.

Marr was tugging at his shoulder, albeit so weakly. "We're going home!"

Another deep breath.

Home?

"Miles... please... please."

There was some kind of bug crawling along the sand near Tails' foot. He dug his toe in under the sand and kicked upward, flipping the creature over onto its back.

Her voice was growing quiet, and the waves growing louder.

"MILES!"

He watched it lying there, flailing its tiny little legs awkwardly. Entirely helpless.

"It's been five years, Miles. We never found them. We have to move on."

A seagull's call punctuated the wind as it picked up again, howling and whistling between the rocks just off the shore. The scene was so natural, so hypnotic. Furious and yet so frail. The cycle, the endless struggle, from the movement of the wind to the movement of the smallest of insects to the movement of a grain of sand. Equilibrium.

"I can't wait anymore, Miles. I thought we wanted the same things. I thought this expedition might make you realise where your true home is. Maybe it has. Maybe it's just not with me..."

Tails blinked quickly, coating his vision with a blurry veil of tears and washing out all the colours.

He could understand her very well. She wanted to go home. She wanted to settle down, find her place with her brothers and sisters, have children, continue the cycle.

"Why won't you say anything?"

It was himself that he was having trouble with. He could feel the flow in everyone and everything but himself. And he could not move from this crate, until she gave up on him, and set him free from the burden of having to choose.

"Well... if you won't go, I suppose this is goodbye."

It was true. He supposed it was.

"I tried, Miles. I really tried."

It was alright. He knew. He couldn't hold it against her. If you put a strain on someone to stay with you against all odds, promises have a shelf life. Forever was a promise no one could ever keep. In the end, it was not a question of if someone would give up on you. Only when.

He felt her lips brush against his forehead, her warm palms on his temples.

"I love you, Miles. Goodbye."

The sun rose high above in the sky. The wind continued to carry the sand to the waves, and everything swirled around him, while he remained still. The tracks that had been gouged out of the sand by the Brotherhood's galleon filled with water, and emptied out again with the tides.

"Goodbye," he said.

I sat and watched the waves until night fell and the last remaining sense of choice disappeared over the horizon.

I have left everything I have known and everyone I have loved so that I can stand here, alone upon the great precipice, and observe the cycle. I never took the time to truly decide what it is that I wanted - there was never a conscious distinction made between what I wanted or what I needed or what I deserved. There has only been the desire, a constant yearning, the howling in my head that drowns out any voice of reason or cry for help.

Now I have sated that desire but this moment only serves to illustrate that I have not conquered my desires. They have conquered me, and their cruelty is punctuated by the way their form shifts and becomes something else, always slipping free of my grasp and separating me from any sense of contentment. And the cycle moves like sand as it carries my desires, without beginning and without end until I step away and render myself obscure.

Who have I left to blame for my good judgement, or lack thereof? I cannot find any appropriate vessel with which to unburden my regrets without being suffocated by my own fear and guilt. But now I have passed the point of no return, and can only hope to find a way to rejoin the cycle, wherein perhaps, lies salvation.

Until then, I will walk along in abject silence.