Wrapping my sweater even tighter around me, Sonic and I stepped out onto the porch into the lightly falling snow. We had just finished eating our dinner, and Mrs. Potts had encouraged us to go outside and enjoy the snow while it lasted.

Before he closed the door, Sonic flicked the porch light on so we wouldn’t be stuck in the almost-complete dark. I cupped my hands together, trapping a small snowflake on top of my palms. I was only able to examine it for about ten seconds before it melted and the cold water absorbed into my new gloves.

“Hey, um, Amy?”

I turned my head towards Sonic, who seemed to be nervous about saying whatever he was going to say. “Yea?” I encouraged.

He rubbed his neck slowly. “I, uh, was kinda wondering if, um,--” he quickly cleared his throat “—you were, like, um, enjoying it here?” His nervousness almost made me smile and giggle.

“Yes,” I said with almost no hesitation. “I have been enjoying it here. It’s been like a dream come true.” I stopped. “But…,”

“…but?” he asked, worry in his voice.

I noticed immediately. “Don’t get me wrong,” I said quickly, “I really like it here…, I’m just… worried about my dad.” I had to pause before I went on. “He and I have supported each other for so long…,” I paused again and sighed, “I just want to make sure he’s doing okay on his own.”

There was a long and awkward silence after that. I had known if I was going to say that, there was going to be a large chance he would’ve gotten offended. When I had thought about bringing it up earlier in the month, that feeling in my chest had me worry about how Sonic would react, so I kept quiet until now….

Because I wanted to keep his friendship.

Badly.

Even more than my friendship with my other friends back in the city.

Sonic cleared his throat after a while. “You know…,” he started slowly, “I could let you see him.”

My ears perked up. “How?”

“Come with me.” He offered me his hand.

************

As he led me back into the house and upstairs, my mind had wandered back to that night three years ago, when I had found out about my mom.

I remember Dad had looked at a letter from the company Mom used to work at earlier that day, and I hadn’t had the courage to take a peek at it until after dinner.

“Mr. Dallan Rose,” it began, “We regret to inform you that your spouse, Jennifer Rose, has gone missing while on a business assignment. Investigators have searched the desert where she had supposedly disappeared. Unfortunately, with all the searching, we have to come to the conclusion of her being deceased.”

I hadn’t known what deceased meant at the time, but from what I had read of the letter then, I could tell it meant something bad had happened to my mom.

I never read on after that. Dad came into the living room and saw me staring at the sheet of paper. He sat down beside me on the couch and lightly pried it out of my hand. I met his gaze, and even at a young age, I could tell he was trying not to cry.

“Rosy,” he had said, using the nickname my mother had given me, “with Mom away, you and I are going to have to learn to stick together. Mom may not be coming back anytime soon--” I now know he said that to keep me from bursting into tears “—so I want us to learn to work together as a father and a daughter.”

I hadn’t smiled or frowned, but I had hugged him since I knew he was close to breaking down. He had lightly rubbed my back and sniffled. “It’ll be okay, Daddy,” I had whispered.

But even then I knew I was only lying to myself.

*************

“Wait here,” Sonic told me. He went into his room for about five seconds before he came out again, holding something in his hand that he seemed to be half-hiding. “Let’s go upstairs.”

We both went up into the third floor living room (probably for privacy). He motioned me to sit down on the couch underneath the window beside him.

“Here,” he said. He brought out a mirror. The mirror was oval shaped with a curved handle that had a small sphere at the end. It looked like it was made out of silver, the design of a rose on the back in the middle and on the top of it. The petals of the rose rested mostly on the bottom of the mirror where the handle attached to it. On the handle it looked like the stem loosely wrapped around it.

A little puzzled, I took the mirror when he handed it to me. “What’s this for?” I asked.

He chuckled at my expression and began explaining. “It’s a magic mirror. This can show you anyone or anywhere you want to see.” My expression must’ve looked ridiculous, because he started laughing.

I glanced at the mirror and then back at him. “You’re kidding, right?” I said.

“No, really, watch.”

He held the mirror exactly where I had my hand, making it tingle a little and go slightly warmer. I felt my skin start to feel the same way my hand did, but I didn’t try and fight it off. In fact, I finally admitted to myself I liked the feeling.

Sonic grinned at me before saying, “I want to see Lumiere and Cogsworth.”

I almost asked if this was a joke, but before I could, the mirror began glowing a light shade of green. I gasped as the mirror changed from my reflection to the clock and the candle holder bantering about something.

“Whoa!” I yelled quietly.

He laughed again. “Believe me now?” he asked teasingly.

I gave him a “shut up” look and he smirked.

Putting the mirror up closer to me, his hand let go of it. I took a deep breath and finally got up enough courage.

“I want to see my Dad, please.” I added the please because I was so used to asking for people and saying it.

The mirror glowed again, and then I saw him.

Dad was resting his head on the truck’s wheel outside the garage, shivering hard, even though he had a large coat on. He started coughing really hard, and held one of his clean work rags up to his mouth. After his coughing fit, he laid down on the seats beside his, still shivering, and coughing.

I started breathing unevenly at just watching him. “No,” I whispered.

“What is it?” Sonic asked, looking at the mirror. His soft expression turned to shock.

“He’s sick,” I managed. “Really sick. He could probably even be dying!” I stood up off the couch and almost ran out of the room, but stopped myself when I was halfway, still looking at the mirror.

Sonic came up beside me. “I’m really sorry,” he said, putting his hand on my shoulder.

I shoved it away, tears coming into my eyes. I didn’t want pity; I wanted to help my Dad out. At first I had just wanted to make sure he would still be okay if I stayed here, but now I wanted to go to him.

I wanted to get out of here.

Sonic sighed after a little while. I turned my head in his direction. He was looking out the window at the snow, deep in thought. I bit my lip for being a jerk and shoving him away. When I took a few steps towards him, he turned his head to me.

“I-I’m sorry. You didn’t deserve that,” I apologized.

He turned away again. From how he was acting, he must’ve been deciding if it actually was his fault my Dad had gotten sick. He sighed again and turned back to me. “Remember when I told you that I didn’t mean to keep you hostage?”

“Yea,” I said.

“I meant it. And I won’t keep you here if you want to help your Dad. If you want to leave, I won’t stop you.”

My own ears couldn’t believe it. He was letting me go for my own free will? But hadn’t he said it was more complicated than that, too?

“Please,” he said before I could get anything out. “Your father is more important.”

His own voice sounded like it was wounded.

“W-will you be alright?” I forced myself to ask.

He smiled, making it look more kind than sad. “Don’t worry; I’ll be fine.”

I looked down at the image of Dad one more time before the mirror’s glow faded and it showed my reflection. I tried handing it back to Sonic, but he placed it back in my hands.

“Keep it. I don’t really need it that much anymore.”

Our eyes met at that moment. Mine had completely locked onto those dark emerald orbs, and I felt my heart begin beating faster again.

I wrapped my arms around his neck. His arms went around me as well, and we gave each other a long hug.

“Thank you,” I whispered. “For everything.”

We let go of each other, but my hand rested in his for a moment. As I left, his hand tried staying in mine. When it slipped out of his, his stayed as if he was begging for mine to touch his again, but he lowered it.

I hurried to the door, turned the handle, glanced back at Sonic one more time (our eyes briefly meeting again), and exited out into the hall.

Practically running into my room, I startled Wardrobe. “Goodness gracious!” she yelped.

“Sorry,” I quickly apologized. I opened my closet up and reached for my suitcase.

Wardrobe watched me with a questioning look on her face as I got it down. “What’s all this about?” she asked while I set the suitcase down.

“I’m leaving,” I said, then, quickly added “so I can go help my Dad.”

“Your Dad? What’s the matter?”

“He’s really sick. So sick that if I don’t help him he might die.” I opened the suitcase up.

“Dear me!” Wardrobe gasped. “Then there’s no time to waste!”

Both of us worked together as fast as we could. She began with handing me my clothes and I stacked them as neatly as I could into the suitcase.

I couldn’t believe it. Most of me was jumping for joy inside. I was going back home—to my friends, my hometown, and my Dad. We’d be back together, supporting each other like we had for the last three years. Everything would go back to the way it was.

But, there was a less dominant part of me that didn’t want to leave here. So much had happened through the months I had stayed—cooking with Mrs. Potts, talking in small conversations with Cogsworth (and occasionally longer ones with Lumiere), playing around with Chip…

… and hanging out with Sonic most of the time.

He and I had to have the strongest bond of friendship out of anyone I knew in the household. There had been some times when I had thought he was completely nuts because of what he would be doing, although he would have me toppling over in laughter most of the time.

And throughout the last few weeks leading up to Christmas, I had noticed that the fluttery feeling in my chest had been appearing more often while I was around him, although it was strounger if he was near me. Even then, while I was packing in my room, I began to feel it coming.

Except it felt more like it would hurt me that warm me.

As I finished packing, it became really strong; so strong I almost wanted to cry because of how painful it felt. But I held the tears back long enough for me to squeeze my suitcase shut.

Wardrobe handed me my coat. “Will you be coming back?” she asked.

“It may be a while,” I answered, “but I really hope so.” I had to clear my throat to keep me from breaking down and crying.

“I hope so, too,” Wardrobe said, smiling. We both hugged each other.

There was a knock on the door. “Miss Rose?” Cogsworth asked, poking his head in.

“Yea?”

He opened the door a little more and stood up straight. “Your taxi is waiting downstairs.”