Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

There was a shift.

Energy rolled through the battlefield in a sudden wave of pressure, invisible but undeniable, rippling through the air hard enough to raise dust and debris from the ground. The wind surged outward from the epicenter, sweeping across the field like a held breath finally released.

To those who knew it, it was unmistakable.

Golden light scattered through the smoke-choked sky, bright and warm, cutting cleanly through the black, malevolent energy that had been clinging to the air like rot. Wherever it passed, the darkness thinned, dissolved, snuffed out entirely... as if it had never belonged there in the first place.

The sound followed after. Shouts, cries, voices rising - not panicked now, but emboldened. Courage spread with the light, momentum building as fighters pressed forward instead of falling back.

This wasn’t just another push, a desperate attempt to gain some footing.

It was an ending.

"There's... There's less of them...! Silver, hold them down!"

"I'm on it!"

"DESTROY. ANNIHILATE. FIRE."

"W-Woah! Be careful, Omega! We're on your side, y'know...?!"

Across the battlefield, the Resistance surged - hundreds of them moving through craters and wreckage, battered but unyielding. Tails was near the heart of it, darting between cover and consoles, barking rapid-fire commands while his wispon aimed readily at all foes that approached him, peppering the remaining Phantom Copies with precision fire. Amy was further ahead, her hammer a streak of gold and red through the chaos, each swing clearing space and rallying fighters who followed her without hesitation. Knuckles held the line like bedrock, driving forward through sheer force of will, refusing to give ground even as enemies swarmed him.

The Chaotix moved like living gaps in the fight - Vector’s voice carrying orders and encouragement, Espio slipping in and out of sight to dismantle threats before they could escalate, Charmy a reckless blur of motion and sound. Silver hovered above the churned earth, jaw clenched in concentration as telekinetic force pinned enemies in place and hurled debris like improvised artillery. Omega advanced with relentless precision, every step punctuated by thunderous firepower, uncaring who a quarter of their enemies looked like... And weaving through it all was the wolf... the one codenamed the Avatar. Smaller than most, but impossible to miss. Wispon fire cut bright arcs through the haze as they pushed forward alongside the Resistance, proof that this fight belonged to more than legends.

They wouldn't have gotten this far without them.

She didn't know why, but the thought made Rouge's blood boil. Things wouldn't have gotten this bad if... if...

With deadly accuracy drove her heels into the nearest Metal Sonic Phantom Copy, the drill of her boots biting deep as she twisted. The impact crumpled its skull with a metallic shriek, dark energy bursting free before the copy disintegrated entirely. She landed lightly, wings folding in with practiced ease. Her gaze swept the battlefield once more - cataloging positions, movement, who was still standing - and then lifted.

The fortress loomed ahead.

Tall. Gray. Silent.

The Eggman Empire’s stronghold sat at the center of a massive crater, its high walls stark against the barren fields surrounding it. Mountains rose in the distance like broken teeth, jagged and lifeless. The land itself seemed drained, dirt and sand illuminated only by the harsh, artificial lights bleeding from the structure. Atop the central tower, the Death Egg Robot lay in a crumpled, burning heap - its fall final, its flames consuming metal and memory alike.

For the briefest moment, a flicker of concern stirred in Rouge’s chest for the madman responsible for all of it. Had he escaped? The Doctor always managed to before, but...

...

She crushed the feeling before it could take shape.

What remained was bitterness, resentment for everything she had lost... and for the one she still hadn’t found.

The sound of heavy footsteps distracted her from the inevitable despair.

Knuckles came to a stop beside her, fists still clenched, chest rising and falling as he stared up at the fortress pointedly. Soot streaked his gloves, and one of his fists was split and bleeding through the material, though he didn't seem to notice.

"...Guess this has to be the one, yeah." It wasn't a question, his quills swaying in the gentle wind. He already knew what was on her mind. At this point, they all would've been able to guess.

Rouge didn't respond. She folded her arms over her chest, her eyes never once leaving the structure. 

The echidna tilted his head back, tracking the dark lines of the walls up to where the smoke bled into the sky. "This is the last one," he continued, voice lower as he sniffed loudly. "Every other base has been cracked at this point, but Eggman kept this one a total secret. We don't know a thing about it..." He paused, turning his head to look at the former agent, a frown deepening the lines on his face. One could say his expression softened the more he looked at her, violet eyes searching her before he continued, jaw tightening. "We don't know who or what could be inside. No intel to back us up. If he's not here, then..."

...The thought didn't need finishing.

Rouge stayed silent for a long moment, the wind tugging at her hair and wings as she closed her eyes. Somewhere behind them, weapons continued to fire, distant now, muffled by stone and space. Then, finally, she nodded once, lifting a hand to the communicator tucked against her ear. 

"Tails," she said, voice clipped. "Status. I need Sonic's status." 

Static crackled in response, just long enough to tighten something in her chest. Before she could think further, the fox's voice broke through the communicator, breathless and strained, punctuated by the sound of movement and distant impacts.

KZZRT. "I'm here! Sonic just told me he's still fighting against Infinite, but he thinks the guy won't last much longer!" KZZCHRT.

Rouge smiled, the kind that didn't quite reach her eyes. If Sonic ended this, and if he wasn't inside, then who could they ask...? They had to hurry. After a few moments of consideration, she gave her wings an experimental flap before speaking again.

"Can me and Knuckles afford to pull away? Can you all handle this on your own?"

Another beat of silence... shorter this time.

KZZT.

"Yes!"

She could hear the smile in his voice, in spite of his exhaustion. Such a drastic change to the shell of himself he had become at the start of all this.

"We've got this! Just go! Find him!"

Rouge felt a wave of electric energy pass through her at the boy's confidence. She nodded to no one in particular, lowering her hand before turning to face Knuckles. No words passed between them, their gazes brief yet resolute. She took to the air as he turned to the fortress, and together, the two moved for the breach torn into its outer wall, slipping past scorched metal and fallen stone. 

—

With the gentle tap of red shoes against the floor, Super Sonic lowered himself from the air to stand. Now, with a moment to breathe, he couldn't help but take note of his surroundings.

The throne chamber stretched out before him like a corridor masquerading as a palace. A long, narrow hall pulled the eye forward, every line and angle guiding attention toward the raised seat at its far end. What might once have been polished stone reflected the room in warped fragments, fractured by cracks and impact scars, distorting every silhouette that crossed it. Open passageways broke the left wall at measured intervals, tall and narrow, leading to balconies that overlooked the dead landscape beyond the fortress. There were no comforts there... only exposure. It was as though the world outside existed solely to be looked down upon. The chamber strained for luxury. Gold-toned metal and crimson inlays attempted grandeur without understanding it, synthetic materials imitating opulence without warmth or grace. Red light pulsed faintly through seams in the walls and floor, like veins beneath artificial skin. At the end of it all stood the throne - oversized, angular, fused into the structure itself. It was not made to be sat in. It was made to dominate.

Sonic had been in many castles in his life, and even those that housed the most frightened of souls bore a fraction of love.

With the ceiling torn away and daylight spilling in, the illusion faltered. The space felt vast and empty, its excess laid bare. A monument not to power, but to the desperate need for it. Shattered pieces of the Death Egg Robot lay strewn across the floor like the remains of a fallen god - twisted metal still warm, sparking weakly where systems refused to die.

Red cubed drifted and stuttered through the chamber, phasing in and out of existence as dark energy bled from them, staining the space with the warped residue of the Phantom Ruby. Reality bent where they passed, edges tearing, reassembling a heartbeat later. Sonic curiously brushed one away, amused at how his Chaos energy engulfed it in pure light before it disappeared...

Then, crimson eyes lifted beyond that. To the source of all this untamed power, kneeling pathetically at the foot of what Sonic assumed was his throne.

Infinite howled violently, his body glitching as red streaks tore through his form, as if he were unable to decide whether to exist or vanish forever. The mask over his face had long since been cracked open, one lens shattered completely, revealing one golden eye that flashed in ever growing madness. Beneath it, he snarled, sharp teeth bared, voice warping and overlapping itself as he struggled to stand.

"I... I can't be defeated...!" He rasped, clawed hands clutching the arm of his chair to push himself upward. His knees buckled dangerously, his tail lashing out behind him as he shook his head in defiance. "I... I won't...!"

Super Sonic exhaled, ear twitching before he made a deliberate glance to his hand.

The true Phantom Ruby was still there - smaller now, dimmer, its glow faltering as fractures' spiderwebbed across its surface. Experimentally, his fingers tightened, the pressure of his grip bending light itself, the gem screaming soundlessly as its glow flickered and failed. From the voices he could pick up from the wind, even this far into the fortress, he could hear the cheering growing louder.

Across the chamber, Infinite convulsed.

A ragged hole gaped in his chest where the Ruby had once been, edges tearing and reforming in violent pulses. Blood poured freely, scattering across the floor in dark, petal-like splashes that glitched as they fell, phasing between solid and unreal before finally settling. Liquid carnations were being painted on the floor. and the smell was enough to make the Hero's stomach tighten. The jackal collapsed forward, one hand scraping uselessly against the fractured stone. Still, he snarled. Still, he clung to a lie.

“This… this isn’t over...!” Infinite hissed, his voice tearing apart into static between syllables. “You... can’t-!”

Sonic pursed his lips, considering him for a beat longer than necessary. Then he closed his hand again.

The Phantom Ruby shrieked.

Hairline fractures raced across its surface, light spilling through Sonic’s fingers in jagged, crimson beams that cut across the chamber like wounds. Infinite’s words collapsed into a strangled sound as his body convulsed, glitching violently now - sections of him stuttering out of sync with the world, lagging a fraction of a second behind themselves. The red cubes hanging in the air shuddered, flickered, and began to come apart, dissolving into nothing mid-fall.

It was only a matter of time.

“...You know,” Sonic said at last, his voice carrying easily through the ruined throne chamber - light, sharp, edged with something colder than humor. He brushed his thumb absently over the fractured Ruby, it's weight light in his palm. “For a guy who thought of himself as a god, you’re really not handling this whole 'losing' thing very well. Isn't the dignified thing to do to bow out respectfully? I've seen Chao behave better than you.”

Sadly, Infinite didn’t react to the taunting. His body twitched, red light still spasming through him in broken pulses. He muttered under his breath, words colliding and overlapping, fragments torn loose from any coherent thought.

“I can’t lose…” The jackal tried to push himself upright, one clawed hand slipping uselessly through the slick of his own blood. “I won’t. I’m the master of it! The Phantom Ruby answers to me. Me alone… It’s impossible. Not after everything... not after I came this far! After everything I've seen! No one can accomplish what I have!”

Sonic frowned, the golden aura around his body flicker and waver.

Normally, he could tolerate denial. Normally, he could even laugh it off - trade barbs, offer some parting wisdom if the defeated villain was lucid enough to hear it. But the war had scraped him hollow. Eggman had already taken more than his share out of him today, and the Chaos Emeralds wouldn’t hold much longer. Infinite was incredibly droll to him too, a man-child on the verge of collapse, so there was nothing truly entertaining about listening to him ramble. Still, beneath it all, something darker twisted in his chest - an ugly, unexamined malice that wanted to hear Infinite's light be snuffed out. He had been harboring the feeling since he'd been set free from imprisonment, and he held it at bay as much as he could, but the other's personality was grating him on a level that brought down his walls today. 

He'd... unpack those feelings. Later, though. For now, he would simply watch and chalk his emotions up to worry for...

The jackal’s claws scraped weakly against the stone as he dragged himself upright at last. A broken laugh bubbled out of him, high and hysterical, before collapsing into a snarl.

“It’s not right,” Infinite spat, the words scraping out of him like something forced through broken teeth. “None of it. There’s a sickness in all of you - an insanity. You crawl around, devoting yourselves to nothing. To symbols, and ideas that don’t exist. You’re weak. Malleable.” Behind the fractured mask, his eyes burned - too bright, too unfocused. Sonic had the distinct, creeping sense that Infinite wasn’t aware of the brutal irony of it all. “Your minds can’t tell truth from comfort. Heroes, legends, weapons of war… it doesn’t matter. You just have to show them the right faces... And they fall.”

His head tilted, one large ear perking for something only he could hear. “Let them hear the right voices. Over and over.” A breathless laugh slipped out, it's sound as distorted as the energy in the air. “Reality is what I make of it.”

Sonic laughed. It came a fraction of a second too late, but he leaned into it anyway, shoulders loosening as if the words hadn’t slid under his guard. The smirk snapped back into place by muscle memory alone.

“Heh… wow,” he sneered, cocking his head as her narrowed his eyes, gold and black lashes catching in the light. “That’s your big finish? If you're lucky, they'll tell children scary stories about you to get them to behave at bedtime. A bad memory, accompanied by a bad villain speech... Fitting, I think.” He lifted the Phantom Ruby slightly, its fractured glow pulsing unevenly between his fingers, casting red light across his knuckles.

“I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but... You lost, buddy. Whatever you think you did doesn't mean anything to anyone. You can't change reality anymore without this.”

Infinite’s head lolled to the side. For a moment, Sonic thought he hadn’t heard him at all. Then the jackal exhaled - a soft, broken sound, halfway between a breath and a laugh as he shook his head.

“All flesh falls,” Infinite murmured with a sudden softness, as though he were the one dispelling a truth too difficult to swallow. “And you’re all just flesh. Finite. Rotting.” His claws flexed weakly, audibly licking his lips as an unknown image visibly played behind his eyes. “The right voices talk… and your sense of self crumbles. In the end, you're cattle to be led. Meat to be butchered. Bodies waiting to be devoured. I never end. That's the difference of you and me.”

He dragged his gaze back toward Sonic, eyes gleaming through the crack in his mask as he sneered. “It’s disgusting that you think yourselves clever... Elevated.” His chest hitched as the Phantom Ruby’s energy pulsed erratically, a couch breaking through his speech as more blood pooled on the floor around him. “My Ruby has shown me otherwise. I see beyond everything. Your Chaos... It’s just a shield. It keeps you from seeing how mad you already are.”

Sonic’s ear twitched, his thumb stilled against the Ruby, grip tightening just enough for its glow to flare as his eyes narrowed. He didn't understand what the other way saying anymore...

Infinite tilted his head again, grin widening beneath the fractured mask. His golden eyes flashed, rimmed with red, fever-bright and unfocused.

“It’s... hah, funny,” Laughter bubbled up despite himself, his fluffy tail falling limp to the ground suddenly. “So funny. Was I like you once?” His laugh faltered, a hint of insecurity fraying the edges of his voice. “I can’t... remember. I don’t remember anything. I do remember that I... rose above limitations. I’m the only one who ever learned the truth beyond this madness... Haven't I made myself his lord, just to fall to vermin? Vermin without a plan for the future, without vision or understanding or...? Who will finish what I've...? No. Wait. It's a shame. It isn't funny. It's... just a shame... This power is useless on you. Useless, useless, useless...”

...

For a heartbeat, one as loud as the one clambering in the other's open wound, the throne chamber was silent but for the wind pouring through the shattered windows, cold air curling around them like a held breath.

“...Sonic the Hedgehog,” Infinite whispered suddenly, voice low and precise, stripped of hysteria. “Your voice lives in places it shouldn’t.”

He didn’t smile. Sharp claws dragged along the ground, his head falling back to rest against the side of his throne, eyeing Sonic closely.

The interior halls of the fortress were narrow and deliberately linear, carved straight through layers of reinforced metal and synthetic stone. The walls rose too high for comfort, their surfaces smooth in some places and scarred in others, as if repairs had been made hastily and without care for symmetry. Harsh, recessed lighting ran along the ceiling in uneven strips, some flickering, others dead entirely, leaving long stretches of shadow between pools of pale illumination.

Their footsteps echoed more than they should have.

Doors lined the corridors at irregular intervals - some sealed tight, others hanging half-open on warped hinges. A few bore warning symbols or faded unit markings; most were unmarked, anonymous, as if whatever purpose they once served had been intentionally erased. When opened, the rooms beyond felt abandoned mid-thought. Former barracks lay stripped bare, bunks reduced to metal frames bolted into the floor, personal effects conspicuously absent. Control rooms hummed softly with dying power, screens looping error messages or frozen tactical maps that no longer updated. Observation chambers overlooked the dead landscape outside, their windows thick and reinforced, the view framed like a display rather than a vista. 

Nothing showed signs of a struggle.

That was the worst part.

Some rooms were too clean - cleared of debris, wiped down with an efficiency that suggested deliberate intent rather than evacuation. Others were cluttered with discarded equipment and broken machinery, as if someone had simply walked away in the middle of using them. The inconsistency made it hard to tell which spaces had mattered, and which had never been meant to. The air was cold and stale, carrying a faint metallic tang beneath it, like old circuitry or dried blood. Occasionally, a low vibration thrummed through the walls, a reminder that the fortress was still alive in some way... still watching.

As Knuckles and Rouge moved deeper, the layout began to feel repetitive. Corridors folded back on themselves. More than once, Rouge had the unsettling impression they were passing the same doorway twice.

“...This place wasn’t meant to be lived in.” The bat scanned another empty chamber as her large ears folded against her skull. Knuckles could only grunt in acknowledgement by her side. Containment rooms sat recessed behind thicker doors, reinforced glass clouded from the inside, their interiors bare except for anchoring points in the floor and walls. No labels or readouts were available. Whatever had been kept there had either been removed, or had never been meant to leave evidence.

The deeper they went, the quieter it became.

...

No sign of Shadow the Hedgehog.

When Rouge rounded into yet another uninteresting room, she stopped short. The same striped walls. The same bolted-down fixtures. The same The same sterile emptiness that smelled faintly of metal and old power. For a moment she simply stood there, staring, her jaw tightening as the silence pressed in around her.

They couldn't keep doing this.

“…Tch!”

The sound tore out of her before she could stop it. Rouge’s boot snapped out, connecting sharply with a discarded robot limb near the doorway. The metal clattered uselessly across the floor, spinning until it struck the wall and fell still. She exhaled through her teeth, wings twitching as she scrubbed a hand back through her fur, forcing herself to stay upright, to stay together, but months of anxiety were making her exterior crack with every step.

"This is getting us nowhere..." Eyes twitching, she rubbed her temple as she bit her lip in rage. "Room after room, all the same. We don't have time!"

Knuckles shifted beside her, fists clenching and unclenching as he scanned the empty space on instinct. 

“The fortress is bigger than it seems from the outside... It's massive. Shadow’s tougher than anyone I know. If he’s here, then he’s still holding on. We didn’t even have a clue where Sonic was until he showed up himself. So being thorough now? It’s the only way forward. It’s what’s going to make the difference in the end, trust me.”

He sounded confident. Almost.

Rouge heard the hitch beneath it anyway, the nerves he wouldn't confess to. She despised it. The rational part of her brain told her he just wanted her to feel better, but her growing rage didn't want to be lied to, to be given false hope when there wasn't any. Eyes narrowing, she turned toward him, ready to snap back, frustration cresting into something far more panicked than even she could understand. "Knuckles, don't-!"

She had no clue what she was about to say. No one would ever know. Because as soon as she turned to face him, she caught sight of something down the labyrinth of halls littered behind him, a path that they had yet to take. Blinking, the echidna turned to follow her wide-eyed stare.

The hallway beyond was like the rest, cold and gray... but there, poking out where they could see, was a door. Set into the metal wall like an intrusion from another world stood a door that did not belong.

It was tall and arched, its surface a deep, polished black veined with gold filigree that curled and twisted in elegant, excessive patterns. Ornate carvings framed the edges - abstract shapes that suggested crowns, spires, and reaching hands - worked with a level of craftsmanship that felt obsessive rather than refined. The metal gleamed softly under the overhead lights, untouched by scorch marks or wear. Just a door ripped straight out of a grand hall or a royal keep, its handles sculpted and deliberate, set at just the right height to invite someone important to open it.

The bat's breath caught in her throat as she moved forward immediately. As soon as she was close enough, she reached a hand out, trailing her fingertips along the gold detailing in fascination. It was warm to the touch. Not literally, but polished. Her eyes flicked over the surface, searching for the telltale seams of a keypad, a biometric reader, something that screamed security. She found nothing.

"...Well, this is new..."

Knuckles stepped up beside her, his fists on his waist as he eyed the entrance suspiciously. "It's definitely not up to Eggman's standards, that's for sure... The guy's gaudy, but this really takes the cake."

The corridor around it felt quieter somehow, the hum of the fortress dampened, as if the walls themselves were holding their breath. Whatever lay beyond that door was important, there was no doubt. Rouge’s wings drew in tight against her back as unease settled in her chest. Exchanging one more glance with Knuckles, she moved her hand to the door itself and pushed.

The door swung inward with a soft, ordinary creak.

Rouge stiffened despite herself.

“…Huh.”

The room beyond opened up slowly, as if revealing itself on purpose.

...

It was... a bedroom.

No.

A bedchamber.

One so vast and extravagant in a way that felt almost obscene after the cold, mechanical sterility of the fortress. The walls were paneled in deep, rich tones - burnished mahogany and muted crimson - broken up by gold accents that caught the light without blinding. The air smelled faintly of clean fabric and something else - old embers, maybe. Ash and spice, mixed in with unnatural chemicals. To the left stood a vanity crafted of dark wood, its surface immaculate. An oval mirror rose from it, framed in delicate gold filigree that matched the door outside. A small arrangement of personal effects sat neatly arranged: a brush, a folded cloth, a glass dish - unused, but present, as though someone had every intention of returning to them.

To the right, the room softened further. A reading nook had been carved into the corner, anchored by a large, plush armchair upholstered in cream and wine-red fabric, its cushions visibly worn in a way that suggested use, not decoration. A low table sat beside it with a closed book resting on top, a ribbon marking its place. Behind the chair, a fireplace lay dormant but clean, its hearth swept and ready, embers long cold but carefully preserved.

It felt… lived in.

Rouge’s gaze drifted forward.

The bed dominated the center of the room.

It was enormous - large enough to feel indulgent, somehow even beyond Eggman's tastes - its frame carved with the same regal motifs that adorned the door. The sheets were pristine, tucked with military precision, heavy blankets layered carefully atop one another in deep reds and blacks. Unlike the comfy looking chair, the bed felt unwelcoming. Like it had been made for someone who wasn't allowed to disturb it.

The furniture noted, her eyes drifted back to beyond the vanity. Massive windows stretched nearly floor to ceiling, accompanied by a pair of glass doors that opened to a small, empty balcony. Oddly, they had no door handles. They overlooked the same dead, gray landscape that surrounded the fortress - ash-colored earth, jagged rock, distant smoke plumes - but from here, the world outside looked muted. The warmth of the room pushed back against the bleakness beyond the glass, as if daring it to intrude. Off to the left of the bed, bolted directly into the floor, stood a short metal post - no more than two and a half feet high. A length of heavy chain was wrapped around it several times, thick links resting against the metal with a dull sheen. Beneath it lay a plush white rug, its fibers clean, untouched, soft enough to sink into. It's immediate purpose was unknown.

The contrast was jarring. Rouge's stomach twisted. 

Her eyes slid toward the open doorway on the far side of the room. Beyond it, she could see gleaming tile and steam-stained marble. A bathroom, luxurious with a massive tub set deep into the floor, wide enough to lounge in, its polished surface reflecting the soft light spilling in from the bedroom.

Knuckles stepped in behind her, shoes heavy against the carpet, his eyes narrowing as he took it all in. “…This place doesn't make sense.”

Rouge didn’t answer right away, folding her arms over her chest as she tapped her chin. Her wings drew in close, her gaze fixed on the chain, on the bed, on the window that let someone look out at the world without ever touching it.

"...No. I supposed it doesn't." Drawing in her breath, she brushed away her darkening thoughts before stepping into the room quietly, heels barely whispering against the carpet as her eyes traced every corner. "Earlier, you were right. Let's be thorough here. See if you can find any sign of him."

Knuckles hesitated only a second before peeling off toward the open bathroom door, his steps heavier, more guarded. “I’m gonna check this out,” he muttered, already disappearing past the threshold. Rouge drifted left, toward the vanity, ignoring her tired reflection as she leaned forward to spot any significant details.

Indeed, there were many. The brush laid beside it was seemingly unused but not decorative; the bristles were slightly bent, as if someone had once gripped it too tightly. A narrow drawer slid open beneath the vanity top with barely any resistance. Inside were folded cloths arranged with near-military precision, each one identical in size. Beneath them sat small glass vials, empty, their labels carefully peeled away. Rouge frowned, shutting the drawer again before moving over to the reading nook. The chair creaked softly when she pressed a hand into the cushion. Worn, but not neglected. The book on the side table was thick, its spine cracked from repeated reading, though it had no title. Rouge lifted it, flipping it open. The margins were dense with notes - tight, angular handwriting that grew more erratic the deeper she flipped. Early pages were filled with tactical observations, diagrams, measurements. Later ones devolved into jagged scrawls, sentences underlined three, four times over.

PERCEPTION IS POWER 

PERCEPTION IS POWER

PERCEPTION IS POWER

REALITY IS A LIE THEY AGREE UPON

I DECIDE

I DECIDE

EYES LIKE RUBIES

...She closed the book slowly and set it back where it belonged, moving then towards one of the drawers lined beneath the windows. She opened one at random.

Inside were gloves... dozens of them. All were the same style, and over half didn't look worn. Another drawer held masks. Different iterations befell her eyes to the infamous one everyone knew him to wear. Many were cracked and repaired. One was snapped clean through the center and carefully mended with gold seams, the repair almost reverent.

Her lips curled. The composed, otherworldly exterior that Infinite had been giving them was as faulty as his worldview.

From the bathroom came a clatter, followed by Knuckles’ baffled voice. “Uh. Rouge?”

The thief closed the mask drawer in contempt, looking over her shoulder at the bathroom's doorway. “Yeah?”

“I’ve never seen this many shampoo bottles in my life.”

“Oh, the jackal that's full of himself cares about his hygiene?” She snorted, popping open another drawer. More gloves. Great. "I could've told you that the day I saw him."

Knuckles emerged a moment later, scratching the back of his head, expression twisted between confusion and discomfort. “No, I mean... different kinds. Different brands. All of them had different smells on their labels, too. Over half of them were still full, for fuck's sake. It's like he couldn't settle on one.”

"Or," Rouge hummed, her fingers hook under the edge of the next drawer, "He couldn't remember which one he liked..."

Her eyes lowered to the drawer's contents, her heart fluttering at the sight. 

Nestled inside, resting neatly side by side as if they belonged there, were a pair of red, white, and gold hover shoes.

Shadow’s hover shoes.

There was no mistaking it. They were scuffed, worn at the heels, but that's what made them unmistakably his. He always took such care of them, but their age made them indistinguishable. They were the most layered, worn piece of history anything this room could offer her. 

Rouge’s breath caught before she could stop it.

“…Knuckles." She whispered quietly, her shoulders shaking. He was beside her in an instant, eyes dropping to the drawer.

“...That’s-”

“I know.”

Knuckles’ eyes snapped up, scanning the room as if the walls themselves might answer him. His breathing had gone shallow, fists flexing. “Well!” He swallowed, then forced the words out with stubborn certainty. “If his shoes are here, then he must be too. I've never seen him without them, so he's got to be around here somewhere!”

The careful stillness of the room shattered as Knuckles began tearing through it, yanking drawers free, shoving the armchair aside, sending the small reading table clattering across the floor as a decorative lamp toppled and rolled. The vanity rattled under his grip as he dragged it an inch out of place, his frustration bleeding into reckless force. “There’s gotta be something. A door. A hatch. Something. He'd never let them take his shoes...”

Rouge couldn't hear him. She stood over the open drawer, staring down at the hover shoes like they might vanish if she blinked. Slowly, almost reverently, she reached in and lifted them out. They were heavier than she expected, solid and real in her hands.

“...They’re clean..." She murmured, more to herself than to Knuckles. Too clean. Not a single speck of dirt remained on them.

Her grip tightened.

Anger flared hot and sharp in her chest as she looked around again - at the pristine bed, the one thing spared from Knuckles' search, the warm lighting, the perverted comfort of it all. A perfect little fantasy carved out in the middle of a war zone, a cage dressed up as a sanctuary. Holding the boots against her heart, she turned to look at the pole again, its chains unmoving, muzzle wrinkled before lowering her gaze to the carpet below it. 

...

She blinked.

Along the marble floor, where the carpet had been pushed aside in Knuckles' search, thin lines scarred the stone. At first glance they looked like wear - hairline fractures, the sort of damage that came from dragging furniture or careless boots... Rouge crouched slowly, setting the hover shoes aside without looking at them, and traced one of the lines with the tip of her finger.

It dipped. Grooved. The kind of fracture impossible to make without clear intent.

Claw marks.

They dragged across the floor in a shallow, uneven arc, the stone chewed and scored as if something had been pulled, or had pulled itself, again and again. The marks ended abruptly at the edge of a long, narrow panel embedded in the floor. It was nearly invisible, cut so cleanly into the marble that it vanished at a distance. No scratches marred its surface. No dust settled in its seams.

Untouched.

...Half of everything in this room wanted to appear untouched.

That thought curdled in her stomach.

“Knuckles."

The Guardian turned just as she rose and crossed the room in quick, determined strides, wings flaring as she planted herself at the panel’s edge. Her eyes were wide now, fixed, her pulse loud enough that it drowned out the distant sounds of battle beyond the walls.

“This,” she said quietly. “This is it.”

Knuckles jogged over, skidding to a stop beside her, gaze snapping from the panel to the claw marks. “...You sure?”

She didn’t answer. Rouge dropped to her knees and dug her fingers into the narrow seam along the panel’s edge. It resisted for a moment, just enough to make her fur bristle, before giving way with a soft, reluctant shift. She lifted.

...

That's when the smell hit. 

It poured out in a thick, suffocating wave - lush and overwhelming, flooding the room all at once.

...Flowers...?

The scent was heavy and cloying, layered with damp soil and crushed stems. Green things grown too long in the dark. Sweet, rotten, alive.

Rouge reeled, nearly losing her grip as her breath caught painfully in her chest, wings flaring wide in reflex.

“Ugh...!” Knuckles lunged forward despite the gagging sound he made, grabbing the panel from her hands and tossing it aside with a clang, his nose wrinkling as he too recoiled from the stench. “What the fuck...?!”

With the panel gone, it revealed a cramped, shadowed space beneath the floor.

Rouge leaned over, heart hammering as her eyes adjusted to the dimness.

There, lying motionless on his side, was Shadow the Hedgehog.

The stillness stretched.

Golden light hummed around Sonic casting long, warped shadows across the shattered hall. Infinite’s words echoed in his head, refusing to settle into meaning. They were wrong in that way that didn’t make sense immediately, but insisted on being understood.

“…I see.”

It slipped out before Sonic could stop it. He tilted his head, ears angling forward despite himself, eyes narrowing as he studied Infinite like a puzzle piece that didn’t belong to any set he recognized.

“That’s... a weird thing to say.... Even for you.” He took a step closer, shoes crunching against debris. “You still with me, bud? You're not making much sense.”

Infinite didn’t answer. He remained slumped against the fractured throne, claws dragging idly across the stone at his side - scraping, marking shallow lines as though counting seconds. His gaze never left Sonic. Not defiant, nor was he fearful. He was simply watching. For a fleeting moment, his eyes shifted- not to Sonic’s face, but just beside him. Sonic felt a prickle run down his spine. In a flash of light, he was there, right in front of Infinite, Chaos energy flaring as his patience finally snapped. Up close, the damage was impossible to ignore: the yawning cavity in Infinite’s chest, the wet sound of something still beating when it realistically shouldn't be. Sonic forced himself not to look too long.

“...What do you mean by my voice?”

Infinite’s head tipped back slightly at the sound of Sonic’s proximity. The fractured glow of the Phantom Ruby flickered across his mask, red light stuttering through his form as reality struggled to keep hold of him.

“…Your voice?” he echoed, quietly, considering, like he hadn't been the one to bring it up. One could see the life leaving him from that one exposed eye, but that didn't stop the jackal from speaking. Blood bubbled at the corner of his mask as he shifted as he chuckled weakly, claws scraping weakly as he dragged himself just a fraction more upright. “Oh… that.”

Even like this, there was something infuriatingly... composed about him. Like a researcher watching a hypothesis confirm itself. It was jarring.

“You’d be surprised... at how easily a voice takes root.” His head tilted, gaze drifting over Sonic’s glowing form. His voice was low, almost intimate with the way that he whispered. “You, Sonic the Hedgehog, burn... so brightly... Did you know that? This war has shown me just how revered you are... People fall apart without you... For you... That's quite the power you have.”

Sonic stiffened, mouth drawing into a thin line as his glare narrowed. Indifferent, the jackal continued.

“...Even when you’re gone... Not physically present, I mean... Some people still hear you. That’s the luxury of being a hero, I suppose.” Although it couldn't be fully seen, it was clear by the way his muzzle curled that a faint, crooked smirk pulled at his face beneath the mask. “You get inside without trying. Thank the gods that the Doctor didn't gift you with this Ruby. Why, you would've been unstoppable...”

With a huff, Sonic took another step forward, clenching his hand around the Ruby as a warning. It didn't have the intended effect, the canine unwavering, though more blood spurted onto the floor by his shoes. Gross.

“Listen, pal. I don't know what you're getting at, and, frankly, making you sit here and bleed out isn't exactly my favorite idea of a pass time. So, how about we cut this short and-?"

Unsurprisingly, he wasn't being listened to. He realized that Infinite had continued talking, openly wheezing with each word now.

“Some minds cling to familiar sounds when the world starts to come apart,” Infinite rasped, breath hitching as the words dragged themselves out of him. “You saw it with that fox kit - I know you understand that. Comfort has a frequency, a rhythm to conduct. You tap into it, and people lean in. They stop fighting. They let you guide them-!”

That was as far as he got before golden light detonated. Sonic seized him by the throat and slammed him back into the throne with a brutal crack. Stone fractured. The throne screamed in protest. Infinite gagged, a strangled sound tearing from him as his feet scraped uselessly against the floor, tail lashing weakly.

“Don’t talk about Tails again,” Sonic snarled, face inches from the mask, eyes blazing white-gold. Chaos energy scorched the air around his grip. “Don’t play games with me. I’m done with the riddles. I’m done with you.”

Infinite clawed at Sonic’s wrist, breath hitching, blood spilling down his chest in glitching rivulets. For a split second, it looked like Sonic might actually crush what was left of him.

And yet... Infinite still laughed.

It was a ruined sound - wet, broken, stuttering in and out of reality along with the rest of him. His hands went slack around Sonic’s arm, strength finally failing.

“So emotional..." He rasped, voice barely above a breath. “That’s always been your weakness. You care too much.”

His eye fixed on Sonic’s face with unsettling clarity.

“…I suppose that’s why he listened.”

Sonic’s grip faltered.

...No. No, he couldn't mean...?

The space beneath the panel was barely a space at all. 

It was a narrow hollow carved into the floor, its ceiling low enough that whoever had been put inside could never fully straighten, never stretch. Shadow lay within it on his side, unmoving, curled in on himself so tightly that his limbs overlapped - knees drawn up, arms folded close, as though he’d been trying to make himself smaller. That was only the first thing Rouge had noticed.

The second was that her friend, her teammate, had a mask identical to Infinite's hiding his face. The sight of it made Rouge’s stomach drop. It sat wrong on him - too angular, too cruel - its cracked surface swallowing any trace of expression. His gloves and socks were nowhere to be seen, leaving his hands and feet bare against the cold surface beneath him. Where his inhibitor rings should have been were thick, bulky red restraints instead, unmistakably Eggman’s design due to their flashy nature. They were clamped tightly around his wrists and ankles, the metal biting into flesh. Even at a glance, Rouge could see the angry scars beneath them, pale lines pressed deep where the rings had never loosened.

Her breath caught when she noticed a third thing.

He was so thin. 

Painfully, alarmingly thin. His ribs stood out beneath his skin, each one distinct, his frame reduced to sharp angles and fragile lines. When Rouge’s eyes traveled upward, she saw his head quills had been pulled back into a tight bind, bending unnaturally and rendering the hedgehog's most basic means of protection useless. Where his back quills had once been had been shaved completely off.

Dead flowers filled the rest of the cramped space - crushed petals, brittle stems, bits of soil clinging to his fur. Once vibrant, now brown and gray, wilted things pressed in around him like offerings left too long.

...

For one terrible, frozen moment, Rouge thought he was dead. The Ultimate Lifeform, dead beneath a panel on the floor. The thought wasn't comprehensible. Bile rose in her throat, panic and grief ready to seize her, her heart slamming painfully against her ribs as the seconds stretched. Would she scream? Would she die right there, too, shocke from such a horrendous sight? How would she be able to live with herself, not knowing what had happened-?!

As though hearing her internal plead, Shadow's body shuddered.

Just once. A weak, involuntary tremor as fresh air reached him, shallow breath hitching through his chest.

Rouge sucked in a sharp breath herself, something between a sob and a gasp, and the moment snapped her back into herself.

“Knuckles! Help me - now!”

Rouge reached into the space and carefully slid her arms beneath Shadow’s shoulders, bracing herself as she lifted. The weight, or lack of it, nearly undid her. Her hands pressed against his back, and she could feel individual ribs beneath her palm, too distinct, too fragile, a word she'd never thought to associate with her best friend. Her jaw clenched as she fought back the surge of heartbreak threatening to overwhelm her. Knuckles startled as if struck, shock draining from his face as he move forward to Shadow’s legs, hands steady despite the tightness in his expression. Together, they eased him out of the cramped hollow.

Shadow didn’t resist, nor did he stir. He lay limp between them, breathing shallow and uneven, the mask still hiding his face as the dead flowers spilled out after him, scattering across the pristine floor.

Infinite's stare suddenly looked accusatory. Almost impressed, even. Regardless of the hand around his throat, he pressed onward.

"You don't even have to try... You smile, you speak, and they follow. They listen. Do you have any idea how unfair that is? Some of us work so hard for a fraction of what you have..." 

Infinite’s head tilted again, just slightly - but this time his focus slid away. Not toward the walls. Not toward the ceiling.

Downward, toward the empty space near Sonic’s side. Sonic followed his gaze, but there was nothing there but empty air.

"St...Stubborn, always so stubborn," infinite muttered suddenly, tone shifting, the edge of fury bleeding through the weakness. "Always clawing, always struggling, when you knew better. Staying still kept you safe, and yet you didn't do it...!" His breath hitched, and for a moment the clinical calm shattered into something raw and panicked. "I gave you quiet. I gave you order. I even gave you comfort to keep you company...! And this is how you repay me...?"

Infinite’s body glitched violently, red light stuttering through his frame as he gasped.

“No... no, don’t look at me like that!” He hissed, words tumbling faster now, slurring at the edges. “I’m not losing you. I won’t. You don’t get to leave. Not after everything I...!”

His voice dropped, low and urgent, like a promise made in desperation.

“You hear me?” Infinite snapped, fury flaring one last time as he stared at that empty space.

“Stay where I put you.”

After careful maneuvering, the echidna finally had Shadow securely in his arms. The Guardian cradled the hybrid carefully, as though afraid the mere wind would take him, weightless as he felt. Rouge stayed close, eyes scanning every inch of him with a practiced, clinical focused that barely held together the knot in her chest.

Now, the Ultimate Lifeform's body regularly trembled in small, uneven spasms - subtle at first, like shivers, then quick, unvoluntary jolts that ran through his limbs. The pain he was in being totally unknown to her made her own body shake in unison, but she pushed the feeling aside to once again grab his shoes. She couldn't help but glance at his bare paws and hands, a Mobian's most sensitive and personal boundary exposed so carelessly. No one here would judge him, of course, and it's not like Shadow cared in particular for the custom since he was raised by humans, but... the sight just didn't sit right with her.

...

She couldn't think about it. Not right now.

Turquoise eyes flicked toward the bed suddenly. Still immaculate, still untouched. It was an offense in its own right. Without hesitation, she strode over and yanked one of the smaller blankets free. The sheets tore loose with a soft, ugly sound, their perfection ruined in a single motion. 

Good.

She returned quickly, draping the heavy fabric around Shadow’s shoulders and torso, careful to cover him, to give him something, anything, that wasn’t restraint or exposure. Her hands were gentle as she adjusted the blanket while Knuckles shifted his grip to help her. 

It was then, now that he was out of that cramped space, brought up into the light, that she noticed something flash above his chest.

...

A metal collar. 

The metal was dull, industrial, its surface scratched and worn, like it'd been clawed at furiously many times. Those jagged lines did nothing to hide the deep black etching on the side, the unapologetic engraving a single word that she was horribly familiar with.

ZERO

"...I... Knuckles, we... W-We need to go now..." Rouge sniffled, brining the back of her hand to wipe at the corner of her eye, smudging her maekup in the process. Focus. She had to focus. The details mattered only later. Shadow needed medical attention immediately. Once he was safe, then they could worry about the rest...

Right when Knuckles nodded in agreement, the echidna taking his first step, Shadow made a sound.

It was sharp and broken, a pained noise muffled by the mask, torn out of him without warning. His body tensed violently in Knuckles’ arms, and his weak hands suddenly raised from their place against his chest to touch his face. Hands trembling, he brushed his paw pads against the metal encasing his face, as though unaware that it'd be there in the first place. 

Both the Guardian and the thief jumped in surprise when the hedgehog exploded into motion.

“WOAH! Hey!” Knuckles shouted, tightening his hold, bracing himself as Shadow bucked hard enough to nearly knock them both off balance. The echidna hissed when a claw swiped at his brow, narrowly dodging in the nick of time. Shadow thrashed, panic surging through him full-force. He kept clawing blindly, limbs striking out in wild, uncoordinated swipes, heels kicking as if trying to tear himself free from an invisible grip. The blanket slipped as he struggled, fabric twisting beneath his movements.

Rouge reacted instantly, grabbing Shadow’s wrists and pinning them as gently as she could manage. His strength - what little remained - came out in frantic bursts, fueled by terror rather than power. What on Mobius did they do to him?!

“Shadow!” She shouted, leaning in close as she fought to hold him down. “Shadow, it’s me! It's Rouge! We’re here, okay? We’re getting you out...! Stop before you hurt yourself!”

He didn’t respond. His masked head jerked violently from side to side, each breath coming fast and shallow, a strangled sound clawing its way out from deep within his chest. He fought against their touch as if they were foes, hostile hands reaching only to inflict pain. Rouge’s eyes narrowed with fierce frustration, the loathing in her gaze so sharp it felt as if it might permanently twist her face. The muffled rasp of his breathing, thick and restrained beneath the mask, told her everything: the mask was choking him, restricting his air. No faint glow shone from its eyes like the one Infinite wore; she could only imagine how disorienting it must be - blind, deaf, trapped in a dark cage.

Her throat tightened as she held him tighter.

“Hey... Shadow, listen to me...” She whispered urgently, though she knew the words likely fell on ears lost in torment. The crushing thought that he might see them as enemies, people trying to hurt him, broke something deep inside her. “You’re safe. You’re not alone. We’ve got you... we’re here.”

But her voice did nothing to ease his panic. Such desperate thrashing was dangerous - any movement like this could tear fragile flesh or worsen wounds already hidden beneath his thin frame. If they couldn’t find a way to calm him soon... Rouge’s heart clenched with dread.

Sonic stared down at him, chest still heaving, light flaring and ebbing around his form, a living god trying to decide what to do next.

"...You're... You're not making any sense." Forcing the words into something steady, Sonic's red eyes narrowed sharply. "You're bleeding out, you've lost your control, and you're still talking. What is it? You delusional from blood loss? Or are you just trying to scare me on your way out-?"

Slowly, deliberately, Infinite lifted one shaking hand. Sonic barely had time to register the movement before Infinite's claws brushed the side of his muzzle.

Not a strike, nor was it an attack.

Just... a touch.

Sonic's jaw dropped wordlessly. The contact was light - feathering, almost ticklish as Infinite's knuckles grazed Sonic's cheek, as if committing the shape of him to memory. The gesture was intimate in a way that made golden quills and fur bristle. 

Infinite exhaled softly, his breath like cold wind and flora mixed with the decay.

"...Such a familiar face..."

...

"Wh...What...?"

Infinite's hand fell back to his side, strength entirely gone now. His gaze slid away from Sonic again, unfocused, drifting skyward. 

"He's... changed," Infinite said softly. Neither gloat nor mock permeated his stature. No, it was simply observational. "You wouldn't have been able to recognize him had you waited another year. I had such specific plans... It's a shame that they won't come to pass. It's really, really not funny..."

Sonic shook his head in disbelief, the place Infinite touched still burning like static. "...I... I don't know what you're talking about. I already told you: everything you've done dies with you. No matter what you think you did, you'll be nothing but a bad memory..."

Another laugh. It was sudden, directly in Sonic's face. Blood spilled from beneath the mask, splattering warm and wet against Sonic's arm, glitching as it slid down his fur, sizzling in the sunlight. 

"Out of sight..." Infinite rasped, breath hitching as his eye locked madly onto Sonic's. "...Out of his mind."

With that, his large tail lashed out suddenly. 

The Phantom Ruby screamed, shattering.

Pain detonated through Sonic’s hand as the crystal burst apart in a violent flare of red light. Sonic shouted, instinctively hurling Infinite away as the shock tore up his arm. Infinite hit the ground hard, skidding across the fractured floor in a limp heap. Sonic staggered back, clutching his wrist as agony burned through it -then receded, Chaos energy rushing in to seal the damage almost as fast as it had been done.

"Shadow, you need to hold still!" Knuckles barked, more out of reflex than command. Shadow was still thrashing in the echidna's arms, desperate arcs as if every touch burned. Knuckles gritted his teeth, feet skidding against the marble as he tried to keep hold of him without hurting him, muscles straining.

Rouge didn't know what to do, her hold still keeping the hedgehog's wrists at bay. Should they knock him out? She wanted him to know that they weren't threats, that they wouldn't harm him...! Perhaps there was a medbay near by with medicine, some type of sedative to calm him until they get to a real doctor. That would require too much searching, all with time that they didn't have. She looked down at Shadow again, biting her lip.

His body shook with violent tremors, a broken sound forcing its way out of his throat again, muffled and distorted by the mask as he fought like a cornered animal.

...

Snap.

The mask split.

A clean, precise crack moved straight down the center.

The two halves peeled apart just enough to fall away, clattering uselessly to the floor.

...

Everything stopped. Knuckles froze mid-motion. Rouge’s breath caught painfully in her chest.

Shadow’s face was exposed.

Strands of matted, tangled quills clung haphazardly to his forehead, twisted and ruffled as if torn by restless nights. Heavy, dark bags sagged beneath his blood-red eyes, the skin beneath thin and drawn tight from exhaustion. His once-pristine muzzle fur lay unkempt and patchy, dulled by neglect and stained with the faintest traces of dried sweat. Saliva slicked the corners of his cracked lips, remnants of his desperate struggles. Each breath came in shallow, uneven pulls - ragged and erratic, like this was his first breath after drowning - while his wide, glassy eyes flickered with raw terror, unfocused and haunted, as if trapped somewhere far beyond the room they occupied.

Their eyes darted wildly between Rouge and Knuckles, uncomprehending, searching desperately for something, someone, though what exactly eluded them.

For a suspended heartbeat, the world held its breath. No one dared move.

...

Then, slowly, his eyes rolled upward, whites overtaking the red.

Suddenly, Shadow went limp, his entire weight sagging heavily into Knuckles’ arms. The Guardian staggered under the unexpected burden, a startled grunt escaping him as he tightened his grip, desperate to keep Shadow from collapsing to the cold floor.

“Shadow!” Rouge gasped, lunging forward, her hands trembling as they cradled his face. She gently shook him, voice trembling with fear. “Shadow... no, no...!”

He remained unresponsive. Only the faint, uneven rise and fall of his chest whispered that he was still alive.

The room, moments before alive with frantic struggle, fell into a suffocating silence, broken only by a distant, ominous rumble that seemed to grow beneath their feet.

“We... We have to go...!” Knuckles barked urgently, his voice sharp with alarm.

Rouge’s fingers clenched around Shadow’s discarded shoes as she rose swiftly, following Knuckles without hesitation, the weight of fear heavy in her chest as they fled the room.

Sonic hissed through clenched teeth as the searing pain in his hand finally began to fade, his glove falling into tattered ruins. Beneath his skin, Chaos energy crept back like molten fire, weaving itself through his veins with a fierce heat and blinding light. His golden fur shimmered briefly, an eerie blue blending through the gold for a heartbeat, before settling into the radiant glow once more. 

The fortress shuddered. A deep, grinding tremor rumbled through the throne hall, shaking dust loose from the fractured ceiling. Tiny shards of stone clattered to the cracked floor as the ancient walls groaned, protesting the violence tearing through them. Sonic’s gaze snapped upward just in time to see Infinite dragging himself forward on trembling hands and knees.

Or what was left of him.

Like his mind, his form was unraveling. Wisps of red and black energy peeled away, drifting slowly like embers caught in a dying wind. The fractured light of the Phantom Ruby pulsed faintly within the crumbling wreckage of his body, each flicker devouring more of him, erasing his presence like a flame sputtering out.

Chapter Text

Two weeks had passed since the end of the world. The sky no longer burned red, and the ground no longer shook with the promise of annihilation. Cities were being rebuilt piece by piece, supply lines restored, people daring, carefully, to believe in tomorrows again. And with it, the slow, uncertain work of healing began to take place. 

Exhausted, Amy Rose hadn't had much time to breathe.

With Knuckles suddenly returning to Angel Island, and the Resistance still reeling from the fallout, leadership had fallen to her more often than not. Meetings upon meetings upon meetings. Reconstruction efforts going ahead or falling behind schedule. Every victory felt quieter than it should have, dulled by everything they’d lost along the way. So when she finally found a pocket of time... she used it.

Vanilla’s house sat just outside the village, unchanged by the war in all the ways that mattered. The garden was still tended, flowers coaxed into bloom despite the scars the world still carried. Warm light glowed through the windows, soft and inviting.

All in spite of what laid inside...

...

Amy knocked three times before opening the door. 

“Amy!” Cream beamed, ears perking as she jumped out of her seat at the dining table to greet her dearest friend. “You’re here!”

"Hi, Cream!" Amy laughed, hugging the girl tightly as she pat her on the head. Cheese floated cheerfully behind him, making the hedgehog giggle as she waved to the people inside.

Vanilla bowed with her gentle smile, hands already folded in welcome. Behind them, the Chaotix were scattered through the living room - Vector hunched over a chair that looked far too small for him, Espio quiet as ever near the window, Charmy buzzing lazily near the ceiling. 

And then there was Rouge.

The thief was halfway out the door already, making Amy jump in surprise. One gloved hand braced against the frame as if the simple act of standing upright took effort. The usual sharpness was dulled around her eyes, dark shadows beneath them, her wings drooping just enough to betray how tired she really was.

“Oh... Amy,” Rouge managed a small smile as she straightened, saluting the younger lady as she moved past her already. “Hey.”

“Hey...!” Amy replied, nodding in acknowledgement... then hesitating as she took Rouge in properly. She watched as the former agent turned back to Vanilla, her tone softening as she bowed slightly. 

"Thanks again. Really. For watching over him while I do this..." she inclined her head slightly, the words carrying more weight than she let show. The older woman nodded, hands clasped tighter for just a moment as she smiled warmly.

"Of course, dear. It's the least I could do. Shadow has left quite the impression on Cream over the years, and he's always been kind to us. He'll be safe under my care, I promise."

"...Thank you."

Rouge’s gaze flicked back to Amy. There was something unspoken there - shared knowledge, shared worry - before the bat gave a brief nod and stepped past her, wings brushing the air as she disappeared down the path.

Smile fading as she bit her lower lip, Amy lingered in the doorway, fingers curling into her gloves. She stood there a moment longer than she meant to, the warmth of Vanilla's home pressing softly at her back.

...Two weeks...

...

Two weeks ago, the battlefield had gone quiet in an instant.

One moment, the air was thick with smoke and screaming metal - Phantom copies had been surging, machines shrieking under strain - it was as if someone had torn the plug from reality itself. The copies of Metal Sonic, Zavok, Chaos, and Shadow stuttered, froze, and then simply... came apart. They evaporated into nothing, dissolving into the air like mist burned away by sunlight. Eggman’s remaining machines followed soon after, collapsing in on themselves without direction, sparks sputtering out as their internal string of orders finally ceased updating.

For a heartbeat, everyone just stood there. Amy's breathing was labored, her hammer still raised before she raised a hand to wipe the sweat off her brow, making eye contact with the Avatar, who looked back with an ever growing grin.

It didn't take long for cheers to erupt across the field. The sound rolled outward in waves as Resistance members dropped their weapons, laughing, crying, collapsing where they stood. The war that had ravaged their planet... The war that had nearly ended life as they all knew it... It was finally over.

At the first sign of golden light, Amy didn't think. She just ran. 

Sonic had just touched down on the ground, Super form bleeding away as the Chaos Emeralds dispersed to the wind. She threw herself at him, arms tight around his neck, laughing into his shoulder as tears of relief hit her all at once. 

"You did it...!" The girl sobbed, her knees buckling as the tears flowed freely from her cheeks onto his fear. "You... You really did it, Sonic!" 

Sonic laughed, breathless, and his arms came up around her waist to hold her immediately. He looked tired, they all did, but the warmth he radiated was unmatched. "What, did you think I couldn't? You should know me by now!"

It didn't take long for them to be joined by their friends. The Chaotix crowded in - Vector clapping Sonic on the back hard enough to make him stagger, his laughter echoing among the cheers. Charmy buzzed excitedly, twirling in the air, Espio laughing as the kid nearly fell over in his uncontained join. Silver floated down to the dirt and grovel, cyan energy dispersing as his eyes shone proudly, relief written plain on his face. The Avatar stepped forward to the group, offering Sonic a tentative but sincere fist.

Sonic met it with his own immediately, the contact solid and grounding. The two exchanged a nod, and the wolf's eyes brimmed with unknown emotion. 

Tails arrived last, his names swirling as he skidded to a halt beside them, face bright with disbelief and joy. Sonic reached out and ruffled his bangs as soon as he could, a chuckle buried beneath his words. "You were awesome out there, buddy."

"Hehe... Thanks!" The fox beamed, leaning into his brother's touch, and that's when Amy gasped.

"Oh, Sonic, what happened to your glove?"

The Hero blinked, raising his bare hand off of Tails' head slowly. The skin beneath looked raw and faintly singed, veins still lit with Chaos energy, the telltale sign of an injury healed quickly. He waved it off quickly, smile still in place as he closed his hand slowly.

"Ah, it's fine! Really..." He spoke a tad too fast, raising his other hand to rub his nose. "Infinite just made some last ditch effort to take me down and I blocked. No sweat. I'll get another glove soon." 

Amy drew back slightly, looking up at him in concern. Because she was holding onto him, she could feel the way the question made him stiffen, could feel the way his breath hitched just a tad too strongly. Up this close, she too could see something dark flicker behind his emerald eyes before he looked away, smile not once wavering. 

Before she could press him, however... The shouting started suddenly.

It tore through the celebration like a rupture - cheers cutting off mid-breath, laughter strangling into startled silence. The air, moments ago thick with relief and victory, snapped taut with alarm. Heads turned in unison, instincts honed by months of war dragging bodies back into half-formed battle stances.

Amy felt it before she understood it, the outright terror that spread through the group like wildfire.

A shadow cut across the ground. Rouge came in low and fast, wings slicing the air like knives. She hit the dirt hard in front of them, skidding several feet and kicking up sand and debris in her wake. Her chest heaved as she straightened, makeup smeared beneath her eyes, her usual poise shattered by raw panic. She marched over to them, panting as she grabbed Sonic by the arm and yanked him away from the warmth of his friends.

“You need to listen to me,” Rouge said, voice sharp and shaking as she pulled him forward. “You need to take him to the nearest Resistance base now. He’s already stopped breathing twice. He needs medical attention - now, Sonic, you have to go! Please, you have to go!"

She was trembling. Not once has Amy ever recalled seeing the bat tremble. The pink hedgehog's breath caught when she saw what Rouge was clutching against her chest with her free arm.

Shoes.

Black, red-trimmed, heavy-soled.

Shadow’s air shoes.

...

The sight hit like ice water.

Sonic stared at Rouge, uncomprehending, confusion knitting his brow until his gaze followed Amy’s, dropping to the shoes in her grasp. His eyes widened, mouth parting as if to speak, but no sound came out. It was then that the crowd shifted again, Knuckles forcing his way to the group, breath ragged, muscles shaking with exertion as he stumbled into view.

“Ohmygod…” Silver whispered, the word tumbling out like it didn’t belong to him.

Espio sucked in a sharp breath, his face tightening as he reached out and covered Charmy’s eyes. For once, the bee didn’t protest, his body stiff, silent, sensing the gravity even without seeing it.

“That’s-” Espio started, then stopped.

Knuckles came to a halt beside them, sweat streaking through the dust on his face, his voice breaking as he shouted the same frantic instructions Rouge had - words tripping over themselves between gasps for air. It took Amy a second too long to let herself look, eyes dropping to the thing he was holding.

No.

Not thing.

That was...

Sh...Shadow...?!

...or what was left of him. By all accounts, his condition was so distressing that her mind simply refused to hold the details upon recollection. Her memory slid away from the specifics - fur too thin, limbs too still, a weight that didn’t make sense, why was his leg bent like that? - skidding uselessly as if protecting her from something it couldn’t bear to process.

What she could remember, though, was Sonic.

That charming grin that brought everyone who saw it at ease had vanished. Green eyes were blown wide, breath hitching heart enough that his chest stuttered. He stared, looking between the echidna's face as he yelled and the quiet figure in his arms, frozen in a moment stretched impossibly thin, caught between urgency and what one could only describe as grief. Grief for a person still somehow living. 

Perhaps that's why he still managed to move. Sonic stepped forward, arms lifting automatically, guided by instinct. Knuckles barely had time to adjust before the blue hedgehog took Shadow from him, cradling the disheveled bundle of quill, fur and bone against his chest. He didn't look at any of them when he tore away from the crowd at such a speed Amy had never seen without Chaos energy fueling it, the air booming in his wake, dust and wind screaming as he vanished toward the horizon. Rouge went airborne in an instant, and Knuckles bolted right after her. One by one, the group dispersed to follow, anxiety tangible to all who looked at them. 

Amy remained where she was for a heartbeat longer, her heart hammering painfully in her chest. The joy of victory drained away, replaced by a cold, heavy fear that settled deep in her bones. 

...

Shaking the memory loose, Amy stepped inside Vanilla's home fully. Warmth wrapped around her immediately - steam from the stove, the low hum of conversation, the quiet scratch of crayons on paper. It was the kind of normal that felt almost unreal after everything. Vector stood at the counter with an apron that barely fit him, carefully stirring a pot of stew while Vanilla supervised from beside him, offering gentle guidance and the occasional correction.

"Careful," Vanilla placed a hand on one of his arms as she smiled, watching his movements closely. "You don't want it boiling yet. A simmer is what we're going for."

"You got it, Miss Vanilla!" Vector grinned, lowering the heat as his face grew a shade pinker. "Just watch, this'll be the best stew you've ever had!"

At the table, Cream had returned to her seat with Cheese perched beside her, coloring something with serious concentration. Charmy lay sprawled across the tabletop on his stomach, scribbling wildly, while Espio doodled something beside them, his drawing neat and deliberate. 

"Man, I sure missed this!" Amy rested her hands on the back of Cream's chair as she leaned in to peek at their drawing. Cream and Charmy were certainly using a lot of black and red, the fact making her heart skip a beat. Still, she remained chipper. "How are things going with everyone?"

Vanilla turned away from the stove, her expression inviting, but tired.

"Ah, we've been busy," she admitted softly, raising a hand to adjust her dress. "We've all been volunteering at the nearest Resistance camp. There's been no shortage of people in need of meals, bandages, and a place to rest. It's incredible getting to see the community come together to help those in need..."

Brown eyes drifted slightly, toward the hallway. 

"...I've mostly been here, though. Taking care of Shadow." 

Amy nodded, her cheer dimming into something solemn. "That's understandable..."

Two weeks ago, Sonic had indeed rushed Shadow to the nearest functioning hospital, finding Knuckles waiting for them outside. The group of friends hadn't been allowed past the doors - too many patients, too much chaos - but Sonic would come out periodically to give them updates, his expression unreadable every time he did.

First and foremost, the least of Shadow's worries was his leg. 

The fracture in his lower right leg had healed wrong, the bone set at an angle, fused in a way that would have left him in constant pain, mobility permanently compromised. There had been no choice on the matter. The doctors had to break it again, reset and align it properly. Given some time, he may be able to use it properly again. Sonic had told them the doctor said they were lucky to have found him as quickly as they did, the limb salvageable.

From there, however, things had gotten only more complicated. When they brought him in, the Ultimate Lifeform was put on oxygen immediately, a mask fitted tight as machines worked to support lungs that had forgotten how to draw breath properly on their own. His body had been in a state of severe starvation, his systems slowed and fragile from what appeared to be months of deprivation. They could not feed him normally. Unconsciousness aside, too much too fast could have his body shut down entirely, so they started administrating fluids, electrolytes and carefully measured nutrients slowly through an IV, monitoring his heart and blood chemistry constantly in the process.

The blood chemistry had revealed a problem to the medical staff that all of them had all known, but none could have guessed would be an issue in such dire moments...

Shadow the Hedgehog wasn't a normal hedgehog. Heck, he wasn't even a normal Mobian. His internal anatomy didn’t align with anything in the hospital’s databases - not human, not Mobian, not fully alien either. Organs sat where they shouldn’t, layered in unfamiliar ways, some functioning on principles the medical staff could only theorize about. His bloodwork was worse. Without a baseline or comparable species, they couldn't tell how much of anything to give him. Pain medication, something he desperately needed, had to be trialed carefully - doses calculated to match his weight, then adjusted for his mixed physiology.

It either did nothing, or it made things worse. His vitals spiked unpredictably, or his breathing would grow shallow. Once, his heart rate dropped so sharply the room erupted into alarms before stabilizing again. Each attempt left the staff more hesitant, more aware of how little margin for error they had.

And then there were the restraints.

The inhibitor shackles locked around his wrists and ankles were unlike anything the doctors had seen. Their surfaces bore no visible mechanisms, no access points - only faint red circuitry pulsing beneath the metal, synchronized disturbingly with his heartbeat. Every attempt to remove them was met with failure, the tools sliding uselessly off or triggering sharp fluctuations in Shadow’s vitals. They didn’t dare try again. Tails was eventually cleared to enter the ward to observe them, the only expert they could find. He came back outside an hour later, shoulders tense, tablet clutched in his hands like an anchor. His voice, when he spoke, was tight - controlled, but only just.

“Shadow’s Chaos energy levels are critically low...” Blue eyes never leaving the scrolling data. “He's not just being suppressed. He's being outright drained.”

The group fell silent. Sonic noticeably had jerked his head away as he leaned back against the cold outer wall of the hospital, arms folded tight, one foot tapping against the concrete in a restless, uneven rhythm. His eyes were fixed somewhere far beyond the building, jaw clenched.

Tails continued, swallowing. “They aren’t just limiting his power, they're actively siphoning it. His Chaos energy is part of his metabolism - part of how his body maintains itself, same as the rest of the Black Arms. Without it… It’s blocking his natural ability to heal, and it's why he's in such bad shape, it seems.”

“…Can they be removed?” Amy asked quietly, her hands running through her hair anxiously. Tails hesitated, the frown on his face deepening, tails swishing as he forced momentum into the words.

“I’m... sure I can figure them out. They’re made from a material I’ve never seen before, but there’s no way Eggman could’ve made something truly indestructible. I just...” He faltered, the fox went still. “…Uh...”

Knuckles narrowed his eyes, stopping midpace to look at the inventor closely. “Spit it out.”

Tails’ fingers tightened around the tablet. He stared at it like it might offer an answer if he looked hard enough, then finally sighed, eyes closing as his ears drooped.

“…I don’t... know... if taking them off right now is the best idea.”

Sonic's foot stopped tapping.

The silence that followed was deafening, a snap under too much tension. Knuckles rounded on Tails, fists clenching so tight they popped loudly. Sonic was between them in an instant, his quills standing on end as he pressed a hand to the echidna's chest to push him back as a nonverbal warning. Knuckles didn't care though, glaring at the boy harshly. 

"Don't... Don't you dare say that around Rouge. You hear me...? Not after what we saw!"

Silver stepped forward before the argument could spiral, hands raised slightly, eyes wide and earnest but ready deescalate if need be. "Hold on, Knuckles. What do you mean by 'not the best idea', Tails? Don't we want Shadow at full power so he can heal faster?"

The inventor hesitated. For a long moment, he looked between the group, shoulders drawn in as he bit his lip, mind racing for the easiest explanation. With a resigned breath, he turned the tablet he was holding around so everyone could see.

The image that filled the screen was a brain scan - layered, detailed, rendered in stark shades of blue and white. Threaded through it were dark, uneven voids, blotted-out sections where data should have been, jagged gaps that looked less like damage and more like total absence. One didn't need to be a doctor to instinctively know how bad this was.

"These areas..." Tails pointed to the larger spots with one trembling finger, voice dropping the more he spoke. "All of them are severe injuries. When the brain lacks oxygen and blood flow, damage is inevitable. When his body would shut down, it seems that the damage would grow, creating these areas where matter should be hollow."

Amy felt the blood drain from her face at the sight. Shut... Shut down...? She must've said that out loud, because Tails nodded briskly.

"Being the Ultimate Lifeform has a lot of attributes even I don't fully understand, but one of the one's that I do is that Shadow can't truly die. Not in the way the rest of us can. His body can stop - heart, breathing, brain activity - but instead of decaying, he enters a kind of... suspended healing state. His cells keep working until he can wake back up again. Those shackles, thankfully, couldn't stop that process. They're interfering with his Chaos energy, but they can't fully shut it off if they want him alive and moving. However, even if he was awake, his cells are overworking themselves, which... isn't ideal..."

He tapped the tablet again, pulling up another overlay. On it read numerous charts about Chaos energy. It meant little to nothing to the onlookers, but Tails kept talking.

"Think of it... kinda like his leg," Tails looked between them earnestly, brow knitted in concentration. "Everyone's body knows how to heal a broken bone, but that doesn't mean it knows how to heal it correctly. It set wrong, and it had to be broken again in order to be properly aligned. So, his brain damage would heal if we removed these shackles, but without regulation, without control... it might not heal into what it was before."

Amy's hands curled into the fabric of her dress. Sonic slowly lowered his hand from Knuckles' chest, turning to look at his brother with half-lidded, stormy eyes.

"He'd wake up different."

"...Yes," Tails nodded, finally turning off his tablet and cradling the thing close to his chest, biting his lip in thought. "The Black Arms worked as a hive-mind, so for the most part, high brain function that serves as what we'd call thoughts didn't exist unless Black Doom gave it to them. Worst case scenario, Shadow could 'heal' into a similar state, though he'd have no hive-mind to connect to. He'd be a body without a mind. Or, in other cases, he could be unable to perform basic functions: eating, speaking, even walking would be lost on him. From what I remember of Gerald's files, Shadow's mind is particularly susceptible to influence due to his DNA, so his memories could be lost permanently this time. His personality could take a complete 180. His temper..." The boy faltered, ears flattening.

"Everything that makes him Shadow could be... lost. And this time, we'd be unable to do anything... His cells want him to function, they don't care about how its done as long as he's phsyically alive." Tails looked between each of them, swallowing the lump in his throat as he finished quietly. "Our best chance is to adjust the shackles first. We modify them, let his natural Chaos energy return gradually, and with proper medical treatment, we may be able to guide the healing process fully." 

It was all sound logic. It took some convincing, but once Tails told Rouge the plan, she reluctantly agreed...

"...What about the collar?"

"It's... an inhibitor like the rest of them. Once I figure this out and it's safe, it'll be the first to go."

"Good."

And that was that. A plan in mind, they all felt that flicker of hope.

...

Hope wouldn't show itself for long. The ever growing problem of Shadow's physiology would turn disastrous.

It hadn’t been anyone’s fault.

The medical staff had been stretched past endurance - sleep-deprived, under-supplied, holding together a system that should have collapsed weeks ago. Still, they’d saved countless lives daily. They’d treated Shadow with a care that defied explanation, aware of how fragile his state was, how wrong his readings looked compared to anything in their manuals.

But none of them were experts on the Black Arms. None of them had ever been trained to care for the Ultimate Lifeform.

A new anesthetic had arrived days earlier - stronger, longer-lasting. For an ordinary Mobian hedgehog, it was efficient, reliable. For a starving patient, the dosage was adjusted downward, triple-checked, verified by protocol. Everything had been done by the book.

It still took less than five minutes for his heart to stop.

Flatlined.

Amy hadn’t seen it herself, but Knuckles had told her later, expression unreadable, that Rouge’s scream had ripped down the hallway - raw, feral, the sound of someone watching the last thread snap. Omega had detected her distress from outside the building and charged in without hesitation, alarms shrieking as his sensors spiked. The ward dissolved into chaos. Machines blared, orderlies scattered, and patients were thrown into a panic at what they thought was an Eggman robot attack. It took both Knuckles and Sonic, braced together, to force Omega back out before he tore the place apart trying to fix what he couldn’t understand.

After that, there was no discussion. Rouge had signed the discharge forms with shaking hands and burning eyes, refusing to let anyone but Omega touch Shadow again. Between them, they stole everything - ventilator, IV stand, medication bags, cast tape - ripping his care straight out of the hospital and carrying it to Vanilla’s home themselves. Only when he was reconnected to the machines, breathing again by borrowed rhythm, did Rouge finally let herself think past the next minute. It didn't take long for her to gather her things and go on a hunt. 

The thief hadn't been treasure hunting these days - she was ghost hunting, tracking down any surviving G.U.N. medical personnel scattered by the war. Anyone who would know what Shadow truly was, who might have worked with him, with knowledge of his life and biology, would be the greatest boon.

The lengths she was willing to go for him were… terrifying. Mostly admirable, but still terrifying.

Amy swallowed, pulling herself back into the present.

Across the kitchen, Vanilla gently took the spoon from Vector, their hands brushing in a way that made the detective squeak , rigid with surprise, making Vanilla smile softly as she spoke.

“He’s still unconscious... But I have a friend stationed with the Resistance camp near here. She's a doctor. When she’s able, she visits to check on him and adjust his equipment. As far as she can tell…” Vanilla hesitated, choosing her words with care. “He’s as stable as anyone can reasonably hope.”

She glanced toward the hallway, where the ventilator’s steady rhythm carried faintly through the house.

“If it comes to it, she’s willing to lend her equipment to whoever Rouge manages to find.”

"...That means things are moving forward, then," Amy drummed her fingers on the back of Cream's chair, a determined look on her face. "For both Shadow and the Resistance. Even if it takes a while, I think this plan is a good one." 

Vector hummed thoughtfully, crossing his arms as he closed his eyes in thought. "I mean, hey. The world didn't end, Eggman might really be gone this time, and there's no death lasers shooting down from the sky. Progress is happening all over the place."

"...Recovery is rarely loud," Espio nodded from the table without looking up from his sketch. "It happens in small, deliberate steps. It may take a while to see the fruits of our labor, but they will show themselves if we keep working hard..." 

Charmy giggled as he proudly dropped his red crayon, holding the picture up proudly. It was of him and Shadow over a... green river(?).The bee was holding a... floppy disc(?) triumphantly, with Shadow in the back giving him a thumbs up(?). Amy didn't get it, but the boy seemed proud as he spoke. 

"Yeah! Though... waiting around is a bit boring... I hope Shadow wakes up soon!" 

"He will! Mother says its only a matter of time!" Cream chirped in, still focusing on her art.

Amy smiled at them, grateful for the effort... even if it felt like they were all carefully dancing around the same unspoken worry.

Behind her, a light knock sounded at the open front door.

Amy turned just as Sonic leaned into the doorway, a basket of fruit balanced easily in one arm as if it weighed nothing at all. Sunlight framed him from behind, catching the edges of his quills. At his side stood Tails, both hands wrapped tightly around the strap of an overstuffed brown tool bag. It bulged at the seams with cables and instruments, heavy enough that his shoulders were drawn up with the effort.

“Heya, everybody! Something smells amazing!” Sonic called, already stepping inside, his voice bright and effortless. Cream hopped up from her chair, nearly knocking it over in her excitement, her drawing clutched carefully in both hands. Vanilla turned from the stove with a warm smile, greeting them like family. Charmy zipped across the room in a blur of yellow, buzzing excitedly around Sonic’s head until Vector reached up and caught him midair with a long-suffering groan.

“Hey, personal space, little guy-!”

Sonic laughed, ducking instinctively, and it was in that moment that Cream reached him. Cheese perched atop her head, peeking over her ear as she held the picture up with careful pride.

“Look, Mr. Sonic!” She tilted the page so he could see, wide eyes shining. “Do you think… do you think Mr. Shadow will like it?”

The drawing was simple - thick crayon lines and soft, earnest colors. Cream and Shadow stood side by side in a field of roses, their hands clasped together.

...

Sonic went very still.

It was subtle - so subtle Amy might’ve missed it if she hadn’t been watching him so closely. The way his grin faltered, and the way his eyes lingered on the page just a fraction too long, tracing the lines as if committing them to memory. It was only for a moment before he straightened, the familiar smile sliding back into place - but softer now, quieter. He reached over and set the fruit basket down on the table before crouching slightly so he was level with Cream.

“Like it?” Voice warm, Sonic tapped the paper lightly with one finger in earnest flourish. “Kiddo, he’s gonna love it.”

Cream gasped, sparkles practically lighting up her eyes. “R-Really...?”

“Really!” Sonic said with a small chuckle, nodding sagely. “I bet the first thing he'll do when he's able to talk is ask for even more drawings. So get ready, kid, cuz you've got a lot of work ahead of ya!”

Cheese squeaked happily, and she hugged the picture to her chest, beaming. Sonic reached out and patted the girl gently on the head, giving Cheese a playful poke in the process. The gesture was light, practiced - almost automatic. “Keep it safe for him, okay?” 

The guest bedroom was as unassuming as one would expect. In one corner was a bookshelf, filled to the brim with well-worn cookbook, children's stories, and romance novels. A narrow bed was pushed against the far wall, and a small bedside tabled with a folded cloth and glass of water remained by its side. Near the window sat a single pot with a bunch of begonias in bloom, its white petals turned toward the faint afternoon light filtering through the curtains. Such a room would be a quiet, peaceful place to rest had it not been for the steady noise. 

Beep - hiss - beep.  

The ventilator dominated the space, loud and mechanical, cutting through the quiet like a metronome counting something fragile and finite. The ventilator’s tubing arched from the device to the bed - thick, translucent, impossibly large where it disappeared beneath the edge of Shadow’s mask and into his airway, the tube dwarfing him considerably. Another tube ran from his bare arm to an IV stand beside the bed, clear fluid dripping steadily downward. Monitoring leads clung to his chest beneath the blankets, wires trailing back to a small display that pulsed faintly with each uneven breath. His leg was immobilized in a cast, suspended in a sling Tails had rigged himself the day they brought him here. Still, Amy could see how unnatural it looked - how fragile the limb seemed now, all strength reduced to plaster and rope. They hadn’t been able to get gloves or socks on him - not with those bulky inhibitor cuffs locked tight around his wrists and ankles - so Vanilla had tucked the blankets carefully, folding them just so, preserving what little dignity she could over the one leg and arm not strung up or wired in.

The ventilator gave a soft hiss as it pushed air into Shadow’s lungs. Dark shadows sat heavy beneath Shadow’s eyes, bruised crescents even in sleep. His brow twitched faintly now and then, lips parting around the tube as if caught in the tail end of a nightmare he couldn’t wake from. Even asleep, he looked… wrong, as though his body had forgotten how to rest. From the sedative Rouge had taken from the hospital, while correct on paper is just didn't seem to offer him much relief. 

Amy Rose watched him, her eyes welling with tears as she stood in the doorway for a moment.

This was Shadow, Shadow the Hedgehog.

The Ultimate Lifeform, rendered to this...?

...

She couldn't give in to despair.

Tails was sat on a chair pulled up to the side of the bed, tapping away on his tablet as his tool bag lay open beside him. After a moment he seemed to sense her presence, looking over his shoulder slowly. He didn't smile, just nodded a small, tired nod before turning back to his screen.

"Hey, Amy..." He murmured to himself quietly, like speaking normally would disturb something delicate. Perhaps it would. "Cutting open the shackles hasn't been working, so I'm seeing if there's a connection that can be made remotely."

The hedgehog stepped into the room slowly, her shoes soundless on the carpet as she stood by Tails' side. "Does he... know where he is...?"

"I doubt it. He hasn't woken up at all from what I can tell. If... Er, when he does, I'm not sure how aware he'll actually be. I'm gonna have to talk to Rouge about going to get more brain scans done in a week or so, then we'll know..."

The unknowns were unbearable. Amy reached out, then hesitated, her hand hovering just above the blanket near Shadow's chest. She raised her hand slowly to his head, reaching up and lightly brushing a stray tussle of fur out of the way.

Chapter Text

There was… an odd sense of being touched.

Something light brushed along his face - soft, tickling, almost inconsequential that it felt almost imagined - and yet it was enough to draw a faint twitch from his muscles. His brow knit reflexively as he turned his head, trying to sink deeper into whatever cushioned surface cradled him. It gave beneath his weight, yielding in a way that felt... nice.

His body ached. Not sharply, not in a way he could immediately name, but with a deep, dragging soreness that pulled through muscle and bone alike, as if he’d been stretched thin and left that way for far too long. The sensation lingered beneath his skin, distant and dull, accompanied by a strange heaviness that made moving feel like wading through syrup. He wanted nothing more than to let go, to fall back into the dark, into the quiet place where thought unraveled and sensation faded. To curl inward, away from the ache, away from the touch, and disappear into the numbness that had held him before. To lean into that phantom sensation without questioning it, without caring what it was...

...

Alas, that wouldn't be like him. 

The realization cut through the haze, sharp and instinctive as utter wrongness flared in his chest, dragging him back toward himself whether he wanted it or not. With a hiss that scraped raw from his throat and a low, strained groan, Shadow the Hedgehog forced his eyes open.

Light bled in all at once. For a split second, it was too much - blinding, unfocused, the world reduced to blurred shapes and shifting contrast. His vision swam as his pupils struggled to adjust, breath hitching as awareness slammed back into him without warning. Instinct took over completely, snapping him into motion before thought could form. His muscles screamed in protest as he surged forward, heart slamming violently against his ribs. His gaze darted wildly, red eyes sharp despite the haze as he scanned his surroundings in rapid, frantic bursts, searching for threats, restraints, exits... anything, everything, all at once...

...

Confusion and alarm tangled together as his body braced for a fight he couldn’t yet see.

What...? Where...?!

His breath came fast and uneven as the moment stretched, his instincts flaring hot and loud in the silence. Shadow stayed upright for a moment, chest rising too fast, waiting for the world to lurch again...

...When it didn't, he growled, blinking rapidly as he finally looked around suspiciously.

The room was vast. It stretched out around him in clean, echoing emptiness. No furniture broke up the space, so there was just a wide expanse of polished marble floor, pale and immaculate, reflecting light in a way that made his eyes ache if he stared too long. The sound of his own breathing felt loud in it, swallowed and returned by the hollow quiet. The bed beneath him was the only thing that didn’t feel swallowed by the scale of the place. Shadow glanced down and felt his brow crease. The mattress was enormous - far too wide, far too long. A human-sized king’s bed, if he had to guess, dressed in layers of extravagantly soft fabric that looked more decorative than practical. The cushions dipped under his weight in a way that made his stomach twist, swallowing him just enough to feel... indulgent.

He didn't belong in something like this.

A dull pressure throbbed behind his eyes as he lifted his gaze again, daring to look toward the far side of the room. Light poured in from somewhere unseen, flooding the space so completely that the edges of the world blurred. It was too bright, harsh in its abundance, so his vision washed out, white bleeding into everything until his head pulsed sharply in protest. He hissed under his breath and snapped his gaze back down, blinking hard as the beginnings of a migraine bloomed. To avoid making it worse, he forced himself to focus back to the bed, to himself, to take stock.

His hands came into view, gloved fingers curling and uncurling as he checked for resistance, for pain. They trembled faintly, though he wasn’t sure why. He flexed them again, slower this time, grounding himself in the familiar weight of the gloves, the snug fit around his palms. Carefully, he shifted toward the edge of the bed. The movement sent another wave of dull ache through his body, not sharp enough to stop him but insistent enough to make him grit his teeth. He swung his legs over the side and sat there for a moment, shoulders tense, letting the room stop spinning, before pushing himself to stand. The floor was hard beneath his shoes when his feet touched down, the marble smooth and unyielding. His heels clicked softly against it as he straightened, the sound echoing faintly through the open space.

It was too quiet. Too clean. Ignoring the disquiet he felt, Shadow adjusted his gloves again out of habit, squaring his shoulders as he took a cautious step forward, then another, testing his balance, listening to the way his movements carried as he tried to recall how he got here...

...

Sunset Heights.

He remembered the briefing first: G.U.N. intelligence flagged a strange energy signal blooming beneath The City, fluctuating in a way that didn't match any known tech from the Doctor, so their mission was clear - recon only, assess and report their findings back to HQ as soon as possible. Team Dark had been deployed together, dropped off in a helicopter on the outskirts as the skyline loomed above them, neon half-dead and streets already too quiet for the hour. 

Well, unnaturally quiet in the way that a bustling city being sieged by the Doctor's robots should be. 

They were everywhere. They had poured out of alleys and storefronts like insects, metallic limbs scraping against asphalt. Shadow remembered the familiar rush of combat, the clarity that would ease into his body when he took down a horde of them in a few seconds flat. He ran ahead of Rouge without thinking, cutting through the machines as fog began to creep along those streets, thick and low, curling around his ankles and swallowing the road behind him. Omega had split off toward Park Avenue, his engines fading as he confirmed he'd sweep the eastern sector.

All of their voices crackled comfortably over the comms, Rouge’s cutting through first.

“I hate when you two run ahead like that. This is a recon mission, not a demolition derby. You’re both so busy itching for a fight that you forget the objective. Do those hour-long debriefings mean nothing to you?”

“NONSENSE,” Omega boomed without hesitation. “I AM THE SUPERIOR MACHINE. THEREFORE, MY PRIMARY OBJECTIVE IS THE ANNIHILATION OF EGGMAN ROBOTS. G.U.N. DIRECTIVES ARE A SECONDARY CONSIDERATION. YOU MEATBAGS MAY CONDUCT RECON WHILE I DEMONSTRATE OVERWHELMING FIREPOWER. THIS IS OPTIMAL.”

“Oh, give it a rest.” There was the sharp clang of a boot striking metal, followed by an exaggerated huff. “You know Shadow’s not going to sit back and play lookout, and I’m not letting you boys have all the fun... Ugh, this fog... Since when did this City have fog this time of year? It's is going to destroy my hair. Do you have any idea how long it takes to get this right?”

Shadow cut through another pair of robots, their explosions flaring behind him as he landed lightly and kept moving. He frowned despite himself, the fog clinging to his quills and making his fur prickle unpleasantly. The last time they had a mission in fog it was so thick his quills puffed out and sagged downward, making him look like an idiot.

“…Great,” he muttered flatly. “Now I’m not going to stop thinking about it. Thanks, Rouge.”

“MEATBAG VANITY IS IRRELEVANT. ADAPT OR IMPROVE.”

That's how things typically went - status updates, dry commentary, the occasional joke here and there. They were a deadly, efficient task force, but they've gone through the thick and thin together. Together or apart, it really felt like there was nothing they couldn't accomplish, especially with a mission as easy as this one.

...

It took only thirty minutes, right in the middle of Rouge and Shadow arguing about which shade of red was the best, for Omega's voice to cut in with an alarming urgency.

"UNKNOWN HOSTILE ENCOUNTERED. CURRENT LOCATION... ERROR. LOCATION UNKNOWN." 

Shadow remembered pausing for a brief second, grounding his boot on the head of a drone as his eyes flicked toward the fog-choked street ahead. Rouge paused for only a second before she spoke, the easy edge of her tone gone. "Omega, what do you mean unknown? Give me coordinates."

The hybrid kept moving as he listened, momentum carrying forward despite the cold coil beginning to form in his gut. The robots were thinning out, and he realized he hadn't really noticed when that happened. One moment they were swarming, the next the streets felt... empty. It was then that Omega's voice came back, but... 

It wasn't right.

"DAMAGE SUSTAINED. PARIETAL LOBE REGION COMPROMISED."

Shadow skidded to a halt mid-stride then, gravel spraying beneath his shoes as he crushed the last robot he could see out of reflex. His hand rose to his ear, fingers pressing into the comm unit as his pulse kicked hard against his ribs. 

"Omega? Omega, repeat that. Where are you?"

There was a pause, an alarmingly loud shift of static that nearly made Shadow pull the comm piece out of his ear, before Omega spoke again in a voice so warped it was unrecognizable.

"CASUALTY REPORT: TEAM DARK LEADER ROUGE THE BAT HAS FALLEN."

Wh... What...?

The world seemed to tilt before rationale returned, the Ultimate Lifeform turning around immediately to go back the way he came, eyes darting for movement of any kind. Rouge had just spoken, and they were nowhere near each other. What the hell was happening?! "That's impossible!" He snapped angrily, quills bristling with rage as he poured Chaos energy into his shoes, embers flying as he ran. "Omega, identify the hostile. Identify-!"

"

MUST... ELIMINATE... 

...SHADOW THE HEDGEHOG...

"

The words were ice through his veins. Shadow had to stop, stumbling as he stared ahead into the fog-choked street. He could barely see the sky now, and no matter how hard he strained his ears, he couldn't hear the nearby ocean, the bursting of engines, nor even smell the smoke he had left in his wake. There was just the low hum of something unseen, vibrating through the air.

Carefully, he raised a hand to press the comm device again. 

"...Rouge? Rouge, respond." 

Static answered him. A twinge of genuine fear made him stiffen, his red eyes widening, fur standing on end when a million worst-case scenarios flashed before his mind...

Before there was laughter.

Soft at first, familiar in its cadence. 

"...Wow," Rouge's voice purred into his ear, distorted but unmistakable. "You really did it this time, handsome. You've gone and killed us both. I suppose it was only a matter of time, though."

Shadow's breath hitched, face twitching in clear distress before he forced steel into his demeanor. Snarling, he clenched his fist at his side, green Chaos energy sparking. "That's not funny. Cut it out. Where are you?! One of you needs to answer me, now!"

The laughter sharpened, twisting into something crueler. 

"

Whatever happens next...

"

KZZT. KRSH. KKZZTKS.

"

It's your fault.

"

"I-! Rouge?!" Shadow barked, spinning in place now, searching the fog blindly. "Omega! What is happening?! What is wrong with you both?!" 

Neither of them responded now. All that remained was a static so thick and smothering that the hedgehog hissed before ripping the device from his ear, crushing it to his hand as anxiety made him shudder. 

The fog had grown denser without him noticing, pressing in on all sides, swallowing the streetlights whole. His head began to throb suddenly, violently, a sharp spike of pain lancing through his skull as if something had reached inside and twisted. He staggered, teeth gritting as he reached one again for Chaos energy -

Until something hit him from behind.

White-hot pain exploded across the back of his head. The world lurched, vision fracturing into shards of light and shadow as he fell forward, knees buckling. The last thing he remembered was the sound of his own body hitting the ground.

...

Shadow dragged a hand up to his temple, fingers pressing hard as if he could physically force the memory back into place. The echo of Omega’s cold deduction, of Rouge’s laughter, lingered like a bad afterimage, wrong and unsettling in a way that made his quills prickle. Whatever had happened in Sunset Heights, it hadn’t ended cleanly. He could feel that much in his bones.

Still, he wouldn't simply curl up in confusion, waiting around until answers presented themselves. No, he'd find them himself, and he wouldn't give up until he had them. Jaw set, eyes burning with renewed focus, Shadow turned toward the ornate door he had openly ignored until now.

It looked almost absurd in the sterile emptiness of the room... far too decorative and gaudy for his tastes. He wrapped his fingers around the golden handle and shoved.

The door creaked.

Shadow paused, ears flicking back in surprise. His first thought was that he'd been captured by the Doctor, disoriented by whatever energy signal he had allocated, but... the man didn't like creaking as far as Shadow was aware. His doors always hissed and slid, locked with hydraulic certainty in a futile attempt to keep nature out. Pushing more, the door swung open into a hallway that stripped away any lingering doubt at the familiarity. Metal walls, harsh angles, yellow and black hazard striping half-scorched into the floor. Dim lights embedded along the ceiling cast long, their flare a much needed reprieve from the brightness of that room as cold shadows stretched and twisted as he stepped forward. The air smelled faintly of oil and ozone when Shadow inhaled. It had to be the Doctor. The room and it's uniqueness were questionable, but at least he was dealing with someone familiar...

A low growl rumbled in his chest. Ears twitching, the hybrid swiveled as he strained to pick up movement - boots, servos, the telltale whirr of Badnik patrols... But there was nothing. Not even the buzz of distant machinery met his ears. The silence pressed in, thick and unnatural, and Shadow’s unease sharpened.

...Who did the Doctor think he was, leaving him alone and unguarded like this? It was an insult to Shadow's pride, certainly, but if the Doctor had overlooked him - if this was arrogance or miscalculation - then Shadow would turn it into a liability. He slipped into motion, measured and controlled, one hand brushing the wall as he advanced. His gaze cut down each branching corridor, muscles coiled and ready, every shadow a potential threat.

...

...

...

One moment he was moving through tight, angular corridors, the next his steps carried him into a wide open space. The suddenness of it made him falter as a wave of nausea hit him, forcing him to stop entirely. 

The room was vast, its ceiling arching high above him, metal and marble interwoven in a way that felt... odd. To his left, an open balcony yawned wide, and light poured in unrestrained - brilliant, but way too blinding. Shadow turned his head instinctively, and the glare stabbed behind his eyes. The realization hit him a beat late, and he blinked, disoriented, head throbbing hard enough that it made his vision swim. He couldn’t recall the door he’d passed through, or the turn he’d taken to get here. The gap in his memory left a sour, crawling unease in his chest. He hissed sharply, one eye squeezing shut as his hand flew up to his temple. The migraine spiked, pulsing, and he ground his teeth until it dulled enough for him to breathe through it.

He forced his attention away from the light and toward the center of the room.

...A throne?

It was impossibly ornate, far removed from Eggman’s usual industrial excess. Curved metal, dark and polished, accented with gold filigree that caught the light even here. Around it, arranged with unsettling care, were massive bouquets of roses - deep red, their petals full and lush, their scent faint but unmistakable in the sterile air. Shadow couldn't help but stare, uncertainty flickering across his face as he tentatively walked toward the large seat. Once close enough, the scent of flora thick, he raised a hand to brush through the petals curiously. They were seemingly real, another odd detail in this mysterious place...

He shook his head, scoffing to himself. There was no time to detail every portion of architecture in decor in this place. He needed his headache to go away, and he needed to get out of here as quickly as-

“Did you rest well?”

Shadow jumped, heart lurching as he spun on his heel. Quills flaring, the Ultimate Lifeform dropped low into a battle stance in one smooth, practiced motion, muscles screaming in both protect and readiness as Chaos energy prickled under his skin. He bore his teeth as a warning, ears pointed forward as he looked the stranger up and down rapidly.

The mask drew the eye first. Smooth, angular and pale, it obscured every trace of expression, the surface broken only by sharp lines that framed a single, glowing eye. That eye burned an unnatural gold, the sclera blood red, bright and piercing, its gaze unblinking and fixed on Shadow with an intensity that felt invasive - like being examined rather than observed. No warmth whatsoever. Shadow was used to being looked at like this, but there was a lack of curiosity typically associated with the look that made his skin crawl.

Next, Shadow noted the dark fur that framed the edges of the mask. Accompanied with it was a contrast of white that stood out in numerous places, thick around his neck and shoulders, falling in a mane that contrasted starkly with the sleek, almost ceremonial look of the faceplate. His ears twitched once, subtly, as if tracking something only he could hear. Around him, the air itself seemed to bend, shimmering faintly, as though reality were thinner in his immediate vicinity. Shadow could feel it in his bones: a pressure that made his quills prickle and his Chaos energy stir uneasily, responding to something that didn’t play by the same rules. One large tail swept lazily in the air behind him, making Shadow believe this was a canine of some sort... It was then that Shadow noticed that this Mobian was tall - taller than Shadow by enough to make his ear twitch in agitation - and lean in a way that suggested coiled strength rather than fragility. His weight was balanced easily on the balls of his feet, shoulders relaxed, arms loose at his sides, as if Shadow’s sudden aggression was little more than an inconvenience, and that alone made the hybrid's blood boil in rage. He was being underestimated...

Then, finally, there was that large gem seemingly imbedded into his chest. It glowed an eerie pink and red, pulsing faintly in a low, rhythmic thrum Shadow could feel more than hear. It resonated in a way that made his head ache just a little more. 

...

None of that mattered. No one should have been able to approach him like that. Not without him hearing, sensing... something.

“Who are you?” Shadow demanded, voice low and edged with steel as he held his stance. His eyes never left the stranger, every instinct screaming that this was not a safe situation. The Mobian didn't belong to the Doctor's usual aesthetic of loud machinery and clanking metal. He didn’t look like a subordinate, or a mercenary, or even an experiment gone wrong. He looked curated, chosen, like this place with its throne and roses and aggravating light had been built around him. It was agitating, having no answers still, but Shadow knew this situation was dangerous.

The masked one tilted his head, the motion slow, controlled, and, in Shadow's opinion, faintly mocking, the glow of his eye narrowing just a fraction. 

"Relax," His voice carried an almost amused lilt, layered with a resonant filter that hurt Shadow's ears despite their distance. "If I wanted you dead, you wouldn't have woken up at all."

Shadow snarled, Chaos energy flaring instinctively around his fist, green sparks snapping and crawling over his glove. The blatant threat twisted something sharp in his chest.

"You think you can talk to me like that?" He growled, taking a half step forward as his quills puffed up dangerously. "I don't know who you think you are, but you clearly don't know who I am. If this is the Doctor's idea of a sick joke, sending some underling to mock me, then I'll tear this place apart until-!"

“-Shadow the Hedgehog, the Ultimate Lifeform, agent of G.U.N., and, from what the Doctor has told me, a potential cure for any and all diseases. All except his own, it seems.”

The canine lifted one hand in a lazy, dismissive wave, as if brushing aside a nonsensical interruption, and, before Shadow had realized, taller Mobian had taken a few calm steps forward. He didn't even glance at the crackling energy in Shadow’s hand, his eye lingering on the hedgehog's face.

“I know...” He went on lightly, a rumble in his throat that would have been a purr he was capable of it. “Believe me, I know better than anyone than to provoke you. It's not my intent, anyway. Your condition is rather unstable, so bullying you would be unkind.”

Shadow stiffened, eyes narrowing, but he didn’t retreat, didn't back down from the stare on his face. Condition? His stance stayed firm, grounded, even as the dog - a jackal? - passed him at an unhurried pace, boots clicking softly against the marble. He mounted the shallow steps of the dais as if Shadow weren’t a potential threat at all, as if the distance between them meant nothing. He stopped beside the throne and, finally, turned his attention away from Shadow. His clawed fingers reached out instead, brushing idly against the roses arranged along the armrest, the very same cluster Shadow had touched earlier. He plucked one gently between his fingers, rolling the stem as if examining its texture.

“My name is Infinite."

"Get... Get out of my face!" Shadow hissed in alarm, swatting the other's wrist away as he took a few more steps back, not at all understanding what he meant. The jackal - Infinite, apparently, and Shadow thought it was a stupid name - straightened just a fraction, giving Shadow what he requested, though the tension remained coiled tight between them. The rose lifted slightly again, an almost ceremonial gesture. "I've never met you before in my life, and I don't care who you are anymore! Fuck off!" 

Infinite smiled. Shadow could hear it in his voice even if he couldn’t see it. “So tense. After everything you’ve been through, though… honestly, it’s no wonder.”

Chapter Text

"No!" 

Shadow the Hedgehog did not wake gently.

The moment awareness returned - the moment he felt that same treacherous softness cradle his back, the dip of an overindulgent mattress swallowing his weight - his body reacted on instinct. He lurched upright with a violent jolt, a strangled gasp tearing from his throat as his lungs dragged in air too fast, too shallow.

Heart hammering in his chest, black ears snapped upright, twitching in sharp, erratic angles as they strained for sound. His vision swam, light smearing and doubling as his head throbbed, limbs heavy and unresponsive like they’d been filled with lead. For a few disorienting seconds, he could only breathe and feel - the warmth beneath him, the innate wrongness of it. That cavernous scale, the way it dwarfed him no matter where he looked... The blinding light pouring in through tall windows, washing everything in white and gold until his eyes ached.. 

But where before there had been emptiness, now there was something. Furniture filled the space with deliberate intent: drawers lined one wall, polished and pristine. A vanity stood nearby, mirror gleaming, its surface meticulously clear. A bookshelf flanked a fireplace, dark stone cold and unlit, a plush chair angled toward it as though someone had been sitting there only moments ago. Every piece was extravagant, excessive, and Shadow’s jaw tightened. Interior design was far beyond his concern, but this... this careful, indulgent arrangement... set his instincts screaming. 

His eyes snapped to the door. The same ornate monstrosity, looming and gaudy, its details suddenly dredging memory to the surface like a hook dragged through his mind.

It looked like that throne...

...

That throne... The roses...

The... jackal...

A chill crawled down Shadow's body at the memory. His head pulsed sharply, pain blooming behind his eyes as he sucked in a breath and brought a hand to his forehead, teeth clenched. He stayed like that for a moment, grounding himself, forcing the room to stop tilting as he tried to remember more. That sharp, pale yellow eye... that odd gem imbued in his chest that seemed to buzz and make the hybrid's skin shiver... His bare hand pressed further into his skull, and he counted the seconds in hopes that the pain would leave him...

...

Wait.

After a few moments, Shadow forced himself to lower his hand, his breath hitching.

His palm was bare. No glove, no familiar fabric hugging his fingers and claws. No, instead there was a dull metal glint that flashed dangerously in the overwhelming light, clenching on his wrist unforgivingly.

Shadow’s eyes widened as he raised his other arm, dread pooling low in his gut. Two twin cuffs, a thick, sickly gray shared between the two of them. Heavy and cold, they bit into his fur at the slightest movement. Experimentally, he flexed his fingers, and the weight answered him immediately. He couldn't feel the steady, comforting pressure of his inhibitor rings beneath these - only raw metal scraping against his skin as his limbs felt heavier with each moment he held them up. 

"...Wh-What is this...?" The words came out hoarse, disbelief fraying the edges of his voice. Dreading the worst, his gaze dropped to his legs.

There was no familiar air shoes, or even any socks. The same brutal restraints swallowed his ankles, and he realized that odd numbness trickled through his whole body, dull and unsettling. The absence of his gear, however, jolted him into a full panic, awareness spiking hot and fast as he threw himself upward to stand off the bed-

The world snapped back. A violent yank tore at his throat, cutting off his breath as he was wrenched backward. Pain flared bright and immediate, choking him as his back slammed into the mattress.

"Hngh-!"

His hands flew to his neck, fingers scrabbling as they closed around cold metal.

It... What...?!

Heavy and unforgiving around his neck, his hands immediately went to the short chain that led from the collar to the wall between the pillows he had been resting on, pulled taught by his movement. Shadow twisted, eyes wild as he tracked it to its anchor point, disbelief giving way to fury. He rolled onto his knees and pulled with all of his might. The chain held, metal biting into his skin as outrage burned through him, a snarl ripping from his chest as he yanked again, harder, the sound of rattling restraints filling the room-

"Ah, you're finally awake. That's good."

...

Shadow froze in place, his hands clenching around the chain as he stared at the wall. Every muscle locked at once, his body snapping into a rigid coil of tension. His fur bristled, quills flaring sharply along his spine and head in a defensive crown as his breath once more caught in his throat. Slowly, so slowly, he turned his head over his shoulder, crimson eyes blazing as a snarl twisted his mouth and his teeth bared on instinct. 

Infinite stood in the center of the room, his arms crossed over his chest, that red gem glowing...

...

Shadow's blood ran cold. The door... He knew it should have creaked, and he knew he would have heard it instantly. Yet there Infinite was, posture loose, one set of clawed fingers lightly tapping on his arm. His overall demeanor seemed relaxed, like he'd been standing there the whole time. There was only a handful of people he knew that could move as fast as him, but Shadow was uncertain they could get past that door without a single sound... Even Chaos Control emitted a noise he would've heard...

"...How...?" Shadow bit off the word before it could leave him, distrust burning through the initial shock as he pressed his back into the pillow, moving around to face the other to the best of his ability. Crouched over, without his shoes, he felt horribly vulnerable, and his ears flattened as his muzzle wrinkled. The casualness that Infinite regarded him in made Shadow’s grip tighten on the chain until the metal creaked, and he forced his hands lower to dig into the mattress to stabilize himself. His glare sharpened, chest heaving as adrenaline surged through him.

Infinite tilted his head, the smooth, expressionless mask giving nothing away. Infinite’s gaze flicked over him briefly - his face, his chest, and his knees digging into that mattress - before drifting away from him, as if Shadow were a curiosity he already solved.

“...If you’re still feeling tired...” Infinite turned his attention toward the windows then, his tail flicking behind him. “...Or confused, you should rest. Disorientation is expected. We have plenty of time to get to what we need to today anyway, so take all the time you need.”

Shadow twisted fully around on his knees then, facing him head-on despite the chain pulling tight against his throat.

"I want nothing to do with you! Release me. Now." He knew he wasn't threatening, but the snarl on  his face hung all the same. Heart hammering in his ears, he couldn't shake the sick awareness crawling up his spine - he was weaker. The restraints dragged at his limbs, and he could already tell there was something dulling his reactions. He did his best to suppress the panic, straightening his back in an attempt to look larger. "Where are my shoes? What did you do with them?!" 

...

Infinite did not answer. The jackal continued to gaze out the window, head angled just slightly as though listening to something Shadow couldn't hear. Shadow tried to follow the other's line of sight, but the light pouring in from the windows smeared and flared, blinding him and leaving everything it touched indistinct. He squinted, trying to focus, but the brightness washed everything into a painful haze. Shadow had suffered many migraines in his life, and the kind of disorientation aura would leave him was terrible even on better days, but this was...

My... My eyes...? What's wrong with my eyes...?!

A hum broke him out of his thoughts, and Infinite's tail gave another quick flick as he spoke aloud. Shadow couldn't help it, he had to look at him instead...

"An adjustment period was always going to be necessary..." Voice soft, Infinite lowered his arms to rest behind his back, a rumble of something akin to professional concern wafting into his tone. "Your body isn't used to requirements like most lifeforms. Eating, sleeping... These things were never essentials for you. It's something you do for fun, unlike most other beings in this realm... It's quite fascinating, but a hinderance to progress. I'll be sure to help you in these matters."

Shadow's teeth ground together, hard enough to ache. He didn't understand what Infinite was implying, nor did he want to. The mask caught the light, smooth and unreadable, as his head tilted again - studying, assessing, patient in a way that made Shadow’s skin crawl. He couldn't stand this. 

"That's enough of your nonsense! Release me, or else I'll-!"

In one fluid motion, Infinite snapped his head toward him. 

The movement was sharp enough that Shadow's words died in his throat mid-breath, his snarl faltering, teeth still bared as instinct screamed at him to brace. For a long, silent moment, the jackal stared at him, unblinking, before lifting one hand in a lazy, almost dismissive wave. The gem on his chest pulsed in a brief, unmistakable flash. What did-?

"...'Release' you...?" Infinite echoed the word with a faint, manufactured curiosity. He tilted his head, mask angled as though genuinely puzzled, though that confusion didn't reach the warmth his voice held. "Release you from what, exactly?"

Shadow's lips curled as his ears flattened against his skull, regaining some of the rage that had faltered beneath that piercing yellow eye. "Don't act stupid. The chain, this... this collar on my neck! Remove them!"

...

"...What chain?" 

...

He sounded calm, too certain, and Shadow wondered if he was speaking to an idiot. Brow furrowed, irritation mixing with unease, Shadow glanced down as he reached up sharply, fingers closing where the chain should have been...

...

Nothing.

His hand grasped empty air. 

For the third time in the past five minutes, Shadow froze in place.

Slowly, deliberately, he lifted his other hand to his neck. The collar was still there - cold, solid beneath his fingers, his claws making a slight sound against the surface - but the short length of chain that had moments ago been pulling him back into the mattress was gone. No slack or anchor. 

Like he had imagined it. 

"That's...!" Shadow swallowed, turning his head away from Infinite to glare at the wall beyond the pillows. No chain, no fixture... Nothing but smooth stone, plainly mocking him. He reached a hand out to touch that space, feeling nothing, and his thoughts scrambled for purchase, coming up empty. "It was- I just...!" 

"...Your shoes were confiscated," Infinite's voice rumbled from somewhere behind him, tone gentle and reassuring. "...For your safety."

Shadow turned his head back to stare at him. Infinite met his gaze quietly, head tilted, like Shadow were a subject that had reached an interesting conclusion. It was a look he was used to, once upon a time, but he was not keen with putting up with it from strangers. His fingers flexed against the collar again, confirming that it was still there, before he slid one leg off the bed. The other followed, but crimson eyes never left the jackal as he moved. The cuffs dragged at his limbs, their weight throwing him off balance, but he forced himself upright. It took effort, so much more than it should have, but eventually he stood, knees tense, posture rigid.

"Give them back..." Shadow growled, his hands clenching into fists, hard enough that his claws dug into his bare palms. "Now."

Infinite laughed.

It wasn't loud. No barking cackle or sharp burst, but it was a low sound that rolled out of him with infuriating ease, like Shadow had actually said something funny. He lifted a clawed glove to his chest as it faded, ears twitching as the gem pulsed.

"In due time... when your behavior improves. Rewards are a natural part of healing, after all. It'll give you motivation on those days that may seem too hard to handle."

Shadow’s fists tightened further, claws biting skin as heat flared behind his eyes. “My behavior-?!” His voice shook, fury pressing hard against restraint at the indignation of it all. “You don’t get to decide that. Who the fuck do you think you are?!”

...

Infinite ignored him completely, voice slipping into something indulgent as he continued. 

"For now... It's clear you're disoriented. Which is understandable, of course, but if you don't want to sleep, then I think it would be best if we started with something simple. We'll eat, and then we can talk about how things will proceed regarding your... treatment."

Shadow's teeth ground together. He didn't move closer - without his shoes, without his rings, and with those cuffs on his wrists and ankles that felt like they were weighing him down, he knew he was outmatched - but the urge to lunge still burned hot beneath his hesitance anyway. Being ignored like this wasn't something he put up with in a long time, and he refused to be looked down upon in this way... Still, there was something nagging him about the other's words. He had said odd things before, too, and they made the fur on Shadow's back stand on end... He could practically hear Rouge's voice in his head, urging him to gather intel to gain the upper hand... Not usually his style, but given the circumstances he'd have to resort to it...

"...What treatment?" The Ultimate Lifeform's frown deepened as he pondered, face twitching where the light from the windows touched his muzzle. "What... condition are you talking about...?

...

Only a small, thoughtful hum was his response. Infinite clapped his hands together twice as he made the sound. Shadow didn't have to wonder long to know what it meant. 

The door creaked open. 

Shadow’s ears flattened as a pair of Egg Pawn robots filed into the room, metal feet clicking softly against the floor. His gaze snapped between them and Infinite, disbelief flashing hot and fast. He hadn’t heard them approach. He hadn't heard anything, and worse yet, the two bots were approaching something else he hadn't noticed before, and his lack of attention to detail was alarming...

There was a table. How did he not notice the table?

Low to the ground, wide and polished, set in the center of the room where there had been nothing before. Cushions surrounded it, neatly arranged. Shadow stared, momentarily stunned, as the Egg Pawns moved with mechanical precision, setting plates down one by one. Each was covered with a lid, porcelain gleaming under the light. When they finished, they turned and exited without a word, the door squeaking shut behind them.

They came and went like ghosts.

Infinite gestured toward the table as if this were the most natural thing in the world. “We’ll talk over food.”

Dumbfounded, Shadow let out a sharp, humorless breath immediately. “I don’t require food.” This was ridiculous. He wakes up in a strange place with this awful person, and he's met with a casualness, like Shadow's physical vulnerability wasn't something worth being bothered about. It disgusted him...

"Mm, like I said... There's an adjustment period. You may not feel it now, but later you surely will. Humor me, and I'll answer your questions." 

It was then that a hand was extended towards the hybrid, palm up, fingers relaxed, an invitation with a polite performance. 

Shadow shook his head slightly as he growled, black ears pinning tighter to his head as he stared at the offered hand...

It was then that his stomach twisted.

It wasn’t sharp, not pain - just a deep, hollow pull that made his core tighten in on itself. Shadow stiffened, glancing down at himself. He’d felt hunger before, sure, but rarely, only when his body was diverting Chaos energy to repair something serious. It had always been a secondary sensation, distant and ignorable, but this...? This wasn't. The sensation lingered, heavy and insistent, and his eyes flicked to the cuffs on his wrists. The dull metal caught the light as he shifted, their shine almost taunting.

A realization crept in, cold and unwelcome.

These are doing something horrible to me. More than I can feel...

Crimson eyes moved back up to Infinite's hand. It remained outstretched, patient as he watched silently. 

Shadow exhaled slowly through his nose. Fine. If playing along bought him answers, if it gave him a clearer picture of where he was, where the Doctor could potentially be... then he'd endure it... For now.

Without acknowledging Infinite, he turned to shuffle toward the table, sure to keep his back facing away from the other Mobian. The restraints made every step awkward, weight dragging at his limbs, balance subtly off. He lowered himself onto one of the cushions with a stiff grunt, posture rigid, knees tense as if ready to spring despite the disadvantage. His eyes immediately went to something that lay neatly beside the plate before him, handle toward him, its edge catching the light, making his eyes hurt.

A knife.

Shadow's gaze lingered a beat too long as Infinite moved to sit on the cushion opposite of his, folding himself down with effortless grace, and the Ultimate Lifeform forced himself to look away. If the jackal knew where his attention had been fixated on, he gave no sign of it at all, instead reaching forward and taking the lids away one by one with soft, porcelain clicks. Steam curled up into the air, carrying the smell of warm bread, oil, and something faintly herbal that made Shadow's mouth water. Infinite spoke as he worked, voice smooth and conversational, as though this were a planned meeting rather than a captivity.

"All prepared by the Doctor's machines," Infinite snickered for some reason, one of his large ears twitching. "You'd be surprised at how refined they truly are. Precision temperature control, molecular balancing... very efficient, very consistent. If the man wasn't keen on spending his time with other matters, he would've redefined cooking world-wide with his gadgets."

One lid was set aside, followed by another, and another. 

“This is a grain-based flatbread, processed from a hybrid wheat strain sourced off-world from that Planet Wisp I had been told about. It's a resilient crop, growing well in poor soil, and it tastes like bok choy on its own.” His clawed fingers hovered briefly over another dish. “And this... vegetables cultivated in a controlled hydroponic environment. Minerals adjusted for optimal nutrient density. The Doctor spares no expenses when it comes to food, something I'm sure you will come to appreciate in your time here.”

He began arranging portions on his own plate with meticulous care, movements unhurried. A spoonful here, a measured slice there, all followed by an explanation of taste or preparation...

Shadow, of course, didn't respond. Hell, he was barely listening. His attention stayed fixed on the food in front of him, every sense on edge. Poison was the obvious thought, but it didn't fit the Doctor's style... Did it fit Infinite's though? Drugs, inhibitors, something meant to dull him further... He watched for inconsistencies, for residue, for anything out of place. This threat speaking to him so casually was an unknown, so he had to be careful... His stomach ached, and he cursed it internally as he sought a solution...

His wandering gaze stopped on toast.

Plain. Lightly browned, edges crisp, the scent unmistakable. Familiar in a way that cut through the haze of suspicion, and the perfect excuse to grab the knife for... Shadow hesitated, then reached out, fingers stiff as he took a single piece and placed it on his plate.

...He didn’t miss the way Infinite tracked the movement, and from the corner of his eye, he could see the jackal hadn't started eating yet. His plate was nearly full, but the mask on his head remained firmly in place, and it's uncanny presence sent a prickle down Shadow's spine. Having heard enough about food he didn't care to try, the hybrid's fingers tightened around the knife, the metal cool and grounding against his palm. He lifted his head sharply, crimson eye cutting toward Infinite when he knew his blade couldn't. Not yet.

"Stop talking."

The word cracked through the room, sharp enough to make the air feel thinner. The other actually did stop, looking up from a broth of some sort in an unhurried manner, mask hiding any other expression. The Ultimate Lifeform met his stare boldly, squaring his shoulders. "I didn't agree to sit here just so you could hear yourself talk. I'm here for answers. Stop pretending we're friends."

The jackal chuckled at that, amused, nodding as he lowered a claw to tap on the table lightly. "Ah. Right. You did. That's good, I'm glad you can still remember little things like that."

Shadow’s eye twitched. He ignored it. Sitting up straighter, he leaned forward, eyes narrowed as each question came out clipped and furious.

"Where are we? Who are you? Why am I here-?"

"Careful..." Infinite lifted a finger and wagged it teasingly, chiding gently as though Shadow were a child. "One at a time. You can't possibly expect me to answer everything all at once." 

Lip curling, Shadow had to fight to hold his tongue. He sat back slightly, scowling as he waited. Infinite chuckled again after a moment, and his finger continued tapping. 

"We're... somewhere secure." He spread his hands in a vague gesture, and Shadow rolled his eyes at the idea of classified information being withheld from him. "It's a place you should simply call... the Castle. Nice and simple, just for you. I can't tell you where it is - really, I would, but your safety is my utmost concern, but it's in a secure location. For you, and you alone..." He looked past Shadow for a moment, to the open window Shadow's eyes hurt too much to look at, and his voice lowered. "And the view is beautiful. Truly, its magnificent. When you can, take a look outside." 

The way he said it - sarcastically, the bastard - made Shadow's claws dig faintly into the wood. He must know there's something wrong with his vision, something that's making things ache and hurt when they shouldn't... but he'll get to the bottom of that in due time. He dodged the bait, deciding it best to move onto his next question instead.

"...Who are you, then? Can you tell me that?"

"Oooh, you already know that..." Infinite hummed, meeting Shadow's glare again evenly. "But if you must know more, I'm a friend of the Doctor's..." Then, almost as an afterthought: "...And your friend now too. It's nice."

The agent's grip on the knife tightened until his knuckles ached. “I don’t have friends like you.”

...

"Oh? Is that right? You might be surprised. I'd wager I'm the only one who can stay."

...

Ignoring whatever the hell that meant, Shadow's gaze flicked downward to the gem on the other's chest. It continued to pulse and glow, and the longer Shadow looked at it the more his head got fuzzy. "If you want to be so friendly, then tell me, what's that? That... That thing-"

Infinite reached for a pitcher that sat between them, pouring water into two glasses with a lazy sigh, completely ignoring the question.

"You're here... because you need help. And I am uniquely qualified to give it. You already know this..."

Irritation sparked.

"...Fine. Then where are Rouge and Omega? Are they injured? What happened in the City? How did you find me? What-?"

"Ah..."

Infinite raised a finger again, the motion making Shadow freeze. 

...

He wagged it again.

"One at a time, please. You know better..."

...

...

...

Something about this was too much.

The calm, the poise, the air of kindness, the familiarity, the hunger, the food, the light, the condescending, the mask.

Shadow was exhausted. He didn't know how long he had slept, didn't know for how long, didn't know the status of his friends, but that rest hadn't been tangible. He was pushed to his wits end. He didn't want to talk to this man at all, but his patience was gone. As a result, he was angry, so angry, in fact, that he could muster enough strength for this. 

In one quick motion, Shadow slammed his free hand down on the table, the crack of it echoing through the room, and despite his weakened state, the table rattled lightly from the impact. His quills bristled, eyes blazing, and his voice dripped with venom as bared his teeth as he leaned forward.

“Don’t ignore me. You don’t get to play games and expect me to sit here and take it. Especially when you're hiding behind a mask and some borrowed power I'm betting the Doctor gave you," He laughed, bitterly, and a nasty smile twisted onto his face as he did so. "That's how all you pawns of him are. You're weak and pathetic until he finds you. He pumps you full of something dangerous, and that makes you feel strong, and maybe, in the end, you turn on him. Then someone like me kills you, only if it's worth my time. So how about you stop pretending you're anything more than a glorified lab rat who just learned how to bite? It's sad. It's pathetic. It's weak." 

...

...

...

The room went still. Had he struck a nerve? Infinite wasn't moving, his head turned in a way where his one visible eye was hidden, but Shadow didn't care. The silence only serving to aggravate him further, and he breath felt heavy from the exertion.

...

...

...

Infinite turned, that single glowing eye settling on Shadow with a quiet, assessing weight. For a heartbeat, neither of them spoke. Shadow held his glare, daring him to deflect again.

...

Suddenly, one of the plates was set down.

The porcelain met the table with a sharp clack that cut through the room far louder than it had any right to. Shadow’s ears twitched despite himself, muscles tightening as he fought the instinctive recoil. He hated that, hated that his body still reacted before he could stop it. The jackal folded his hands together, claws interlacing neatly, and rested his chin atop them. He regarded Shadow in silence for a long moment, head tilted just enough to suggest thoughtfulness rather than scrutiny.

“The treatment... is to help manage your condition.”

Shadow’s grip tightened around the knife, pulling it towards himself. Infinite didn't spare it a glance, so he lowered it beneath the table as casually as he could as he scoffed, silently fuming. "What? What does that even-"

"Be silent for a moment."

Shadow opened his mouth to snap back, but Infinite continued smoothly, voice unbroken, as if Shadow hadn’t spoken at all.

"In your case... your condition isn't acute. It's chronic... Developmental." His eye bore into Shadow's face, unreadable as his tail swished behind him again. “You didn’t become like this. You’ve always been like this. It’s simply… progressed to its current state.”

"You don't know a damn thing about me." Shadow glowered at the other, confusion growing with each passing second. "I have no condition. I am the Ultimate Lifeform. I was made to be perfect."

Infinite inclined his head, conceding the interruption as his gem flashed twice.

“Your file suggests otherwise.”

Chapter Text

The city blurred in streaks of stone as glass as Rouge pushed herself harder, wings aching from the strain as she cut through the air and fog. Wind tore at her ears, at her clothes, at her skin and face, but she barely felt it. All of her focus was locked on the static filtering in through her ear, and the road ahead being engulfed in utter sightlessness.

"Shadow... Shadow, respond!" Her voice cracked despite her effort to keep it steady. She had tried switching frequencies, tried flying as high as she could with the weight she carried, tried boosting the signal, but nothing presented resulted. She adjusted her grip, eyes narrowed as sweat formed on her brow. "Come on, hun... This isn't funny. Where are you?!" 

...

Static answered her, thick and dead. 

Omega's weight dragged at her arms as she sneered, heavier than it should have been. His frame was bent in odd angles, his lower half gone, armor peeled back like it had been ripped open by claws rather than explosives. Sparks spat from his torso, scattering against Rouge's gloves as his optics flickered weakly, one completely dark. 

"ERR-ERR-KZZ-KZZ-ERR-C-C-C-CORE-BR-ERR-ERR-" Omega's voice stuttered, fractured beyond repair. The distortion hurt to listen to. "-RE-QUEST-ERR-E-E-E-E-RROR-KZZT-KCH-"

“I know, big guy, I know...” Rouge muttered through clenched teeth, adjusting her grip as her altitude dipped for a heartbeat. “I’ve got you. We gotta find Shadow and then we can get you fixed... Just hang on, okay?”

Much easier said than done. Fog rolled in thick and fast, swallowing buildings whole as streetlights became hazy halos, vanishing entirely from sight. Everything was wrong, too quiet and muffled, like the world had been holding its breath. Rouge's mind replayed the last few minutes before she found Omega on a loop, cruelly and relentlessly as she searched for answers...

They had been joking around, a usual occurrence for them. Shadow had been short, Omega precise and dry, Rouge half-listening while scanning intel. The three had split up, but their usual banter persisted over communications. It was their normal, their routine even when entering potential hostile territory. The first signs of Eggman's robots hadn't meant anything. 'Another day... Just another day...' Rouge had thought, and she smirked as her kicks reduced another machine into a pile of spare parts. This part of the job was honestly easy, a thing they had done a million times over.

This mission wasn't supposed to be serious.

...

How blind-sided they were, not even thirty minutes into their mission, while Rouge was busy totally destroying Shadow in an argument over the best shade of red, when Omega's voice suddenly sharpened. 

"UNKNOWN HOSTILE ENCOUNTERED. CURRENT LOCATION... ERROR. LOCATION UNKNOWN."

Rouge's heart skipped a beat at those words. Location unknown? She grabbed the nearest robot's head and flung the thing down the sidewalk, watching it collide with the outdoor seating of a tiny cafe before she brought a hand to her ear, voice stern. "...Repeat that, Omega? What are your coordinates?" 

"...UNKNOWN HOSTILE-"

The words cut off mid-syllable. 

A sound tore through the channel immediately after - metal screaming as it was wrenched apart, a shrill, grinding shriek that made Rouge flinch hard. She yanked the communicator from her ear with a hiss, teeth clenched as the noise spiked and distorted, sharp enough to sting. “The hell?!” For half a heartbeat she just stared at the device in her hand, pulse roaring, before she slammed it back against her ear.

"Omega?!" Her voice was tight now, stripped of humor. "Omega, respond! I need a status update! Where are you?! Shadow and I will give you backup!" 

...

...Static. Not even feedback - just dead air, like the line had been swallowed whole.

Rouge’s stomach dropped.

"There's... There's no way...!" Her thumb was already moving, tapping the side of her wristwatch, sending an urgent ping back to HQ for agent coordinates. The display blinked as it searched, struggled, recalibrated, and as her eyes scanned the screen she wasted no other second as she snapped into the comm in her ear, already pivoting on her heel. "Shadow! Rendezvous immediately. Omega's off the grid - something's wrong!" 

She launched herself back down the street, wings snapping open as she retraced her path, eyes scanning every rooftop, every alley, every reflection in shattered windows. Her mind raced through possibilities - ambush, jammer, cloaking tech, some new Eggman prototype. Omega was a powerful machine, a fully equipped arsenal with top-of-the-line defenses. Any other day she wouldn't have worried, not really, but there was a chill in the air, an oppressive sensation that she was being watched-

"...R...Rouge - KCCCH - I..."

Shadow's voice cut through her ears suddenly, slow and flat. Rouge hesitated in the air for a second, raising a hand to hold the communicator in place, eyes widening at the tone. Not at all clipped, or annoyed, or angry, or amused. He sounded... Was it hesitance? Shadow, of all people? 

"...Shadow?" She responded carefully, dread curling in her chest as she looked over the horizon, trying to parse through the fog to no avail. Omega needed them, but... but his voice... Perhaps her countless recollections of this moment had warped her perception, but he sounded so unlike himself in her memory. "Shadow, what's going on? What's wrong...?"

...

...

...

"...Get - KCH - Get out of here before - KZZT - What-?! Who... What are- KZZ!"

Shadow the Hedgehog's last words were cut off by laughter.

It was layered, echoing, stretching unnaturally, not at all belonging in the same space their communication inhabited. Light and amused and intimate, like whoever it belonged to was leaning in close, enjoying the moment. It crawled under Rouge's skin, raising goosebumps along her arms as her breath caught. It wasn't Shadow. It wasn't even Eggman. The voice belonged to someone she had never heard before, and for someone to have access to their private G.U.N. network... They had to be dangerous. 

"Who... Who is this? Who are you?!"

That would go unanswered. Like a spell, her voice silenced the laughter as quickly as it came. Her voice seemed to kill the line, too, as silence filled her ears. 

...

Shadow was gone.

...

Rouge's wings strained, muscles burning as she kept Omega's heavy frame off the ground. She had found him not ten minutes after she lost contact with Shadow, the robot's frame half thrown through a store window, sputtering and leaking and unable to communicate, but she refused to let terror overtake her over it. She had lifted him, eyeing the claw marks along his body warily, and she bit her lip as she remembered he was supposed to be miles from that location. 

Whatever they were dealing with could possibly use Chaos Control, and, if it could take Omega out like this...

Shaking her head, the city blurred beneath her once more - streets swallowed by smoke, lights flickering like dying stars. For a moment, as she flew down a hill, the fog seemed to part in her peripheral, and she had to force herself to breathe when she saw something enormous loom in the thinning haze.

Metal silhouettes moved between collapsing buildings on the outskirt of the City - towering, angular forms in fire and debris. She could tell even from the distance that their footfalls sent tremors through the streets, each step pulverizing concrete and steel alike. They tore through the city with mechanical indifference, sending up plumes of smoke that swallowed what little color the sunset had left. Later on in life, she and her friends would know these as Death Egg Robots.

Rouge hissed under her breath.

“Great... Just perfect timing...”

Grip tightening so much so that her fingers ached, she veered away from the opening, staying low. The fog thickened again, but the damage was unmistakable - craters in the road, shattered storefronts, scorch marks clawed across brick and glass. This easy mission was far more calculated than any of them had realized, and that bitter thought deepened the anger in her heart as newfound static crackled in her ear. 

"-Agent Rouge, report in!" None other than Commander Tower's voice cut through at last, sharp and strained beneath the interference. He sounded angry, a reflection of the ice in Rouge's veins. "Status report! Team Dark had gone totally off radar on our end. The Doctor's machines are engaging the city in force. What happened out there, agent?!"

Rouge hissed again, ears flattening against her skull.

"We've... been compromised. Omega's out of commission, and Shadow's missing. I'm en route to find him..." She paused, considering, before her tone dropped an octave, her eyes narrowed sharply. "...Someone laughed on the line, and I couldn't recognize the voice... This channel could be compromised too."

...

There was silence on the line for a moment. Not static, just real, genuine silence as the man contemplated her words. She could hear voices over the line, likely other agents listening in, and Tower's voice hushed them when he spoke once more. 

"...Understood. Fall back to the G.U.N. forward camp. We regroup and reassess from there." 

"No." The word left her mouth before she could stop it. Rouge gave a powerful flap of her wings to regain some height, still following the last faint echo of Shadow's signal as it flickered on the display on her wristwatch. "...I mean... Negative, sir. I've just arrived at Shadow's last known coordinates. I can't leave if he needs me."

Tower exhaled slowly over the channel. It wasn’t the sharp, clipped breath of a commander irritated by disobedience - it was measured, the sound of someone forcing control over a situation already slipping through his fingers.

"...Agent Rouge, listen to me very carefully. I know exactly what Shadow means to you." The man's voice was firm, but no longer raised, urgency bleeding into what could only be described as concern. "And I know that Omega's condition has you worried. But right now, you are alone in a hostile zone with a disabled unit and an unknown enemy who can intercept communications without our awareness. Going forward the way things are would not be a rescue operation, it would be a liability, and we cannot lose you too." 

Rouge hovered midair, wings beating in short, controlled strokes. Below her, the street yawned empty and ruined, fog curling around broken metal and glass like something alive. Her gaze swept it again, frantic despite herself. Her grip on Omega tightened reflexively. Tower went on, slower, his voice contemplative.

"If Shadow is still... operational, then the best chance he has is us acting with information and support. If he's not, then body recovery will be a priority. As of right now, we must assume this trap was meant for all three of you, so you avoiding the worst of it and finding Omega is a boon."

Unless Omega was planted there for her to find. Rouge clenched her teeth, shaking her head even if he couldn't see. "And if Shadow's hurt, and he's out there waiting-!"

"Then you getting captured or killed by this assailant won't help him. People are panicking out there, and evacuations are underway, but we need your leadership in the field..." The man cut in sharply, not at all unkind. "Agent Rouge, you are more valuable to us alive. Shadow, even if dead, can be brought back. Even so, we'll get payback for what they did to our Agent, your partner, with extreme prejudice. I promise."

...

A beat passed. Rouge frowned, looking down to give the sputtering Omega a long look. Had he been operational, she would tell her to throw out the commander's orders, to do what needs to be done for their teammate - and to find more robots to destroy as quickly as possible... But he wasn't operational. Her poor friend was dead weight in his arms, and even if she found Shadow, she wasn't sure she could carry the two injured like this.

“...We’ll get Omega repaired.” Tower continued, as though reading her thoughts through her silence. “We’ll mobilize a proper search, and when we move, we move together. That’s how we give Shadow the best odds. He's stronger than any of us give him credit for.”

Rouge shut her eyes for half a second, breathing in through her nose, steadying herself. When she opened them again, the world still burned below her, uncaring and vast. It was logical, and she knew it was the best option. There was nothing to be seen here besides broken robot parts, glass littering the roads, and more damned fog... Shadow had been here, but he was long gone at this point. Perhaps whoever moved Omega had moved Shadow somewhere else in the City. She'd need numbers to find him...

“…Copy that,” She said at last, the words tasting like ash. “Returning to forward camp.”

She turned slowly, banking away from the ruined street, forcing herself not to look back as the fog swallowed the last place Shadow’s signal had ever been.

'Hang on..." She thought fiercely, gripping Omega tighter as she flew. 'Just… hang on, Shadow...'

—

Amy hopped out of the truck with a soft, absentminded hum, boots hitting the gravel with a buoyant thump as she rounded toward the back. There was an easy rhythm to her movements, a lightness she hadn’t felt in days, and a small smile lingered on her face.

It had been four days since Dr. Henbane’s visit. Four long, long days, each one marked by watchful glances and held breaths... and Shadow’s breathing had stayed steady through all of them. He still hadn’t truly woken, caught in that strange half-present stupor that made everyone lower their voices and tread softly around him, but he was breathing on his own now. No machine counting the seconds for him, no tube rising and falling with his chest. There were still occasional hitches, shallow stutters that made Amy’s heart jump before settling again, but Henbane had warned them about that. Signs of healing, she had said, the lungs knitting themselves back together, the body slowly remembering how to function on its own. And, somehow, that fragile progress had lifted a weight Amy hadn’t realized she’d been carrying until it was gone, something tight and aching in her chest finally loosening its grip.

A sign that, despite all trauma, time would heal all wounds. She wouldn't pretend to understand how Shadow's body worked, but seeing it in action in this small way was... inspiring.

She popped the trunk and leaned in, fingers already curling around the folded wheelchair inside.

The engine cut behind her, and Rouge stepped out of the driver’s seat with a long stretch, wings flaring briefly before she tucked them back in. She tried to play it off with her usual swagger, but Amy caught the details anyway - the faint slump of her shoulders, the dark circles beneath her eyes that even confidence couldn’t quite hide. Still, there was more color in her face today, more bite in the smirk she flashed as she sauntered up beside her.

“Careful, hun...” Rouge drawled, peering into the trunk with a knowing glint. “That thing is way heavier than it needs to be.”

Amy huffed as she eased the wheelchair out, her arms flexing as she did so. Swinging around a hammer really helped her upper body strength. “Be honest - did you even ask the Resistance for this, or did it just magically appear in the trunk?”

Rouge planted a hand on her hip and smiled, the sunlight making her eyes sparkle like gems. “Sweetie, do you know who I am?”

...In typical fashion, that didn’t answer the question. Amy rolled her eyes, but she was smiling as Rouge unfolded the chair, snapping it open and checking the locks and wheels with practiced ease. For a fleeting moment, it almost felt normal - just another errand, another supply run, another day where the world hadn’t tipped sideways. During the war, moments like this had been frantic, a rush to get things done so they could help the people who needed it most. Now, in this time of peace, it was hard to decompartmentalize that experience, and Amy took a deep breath to calm the rapid increase of her heartbeat. 

...

One she had steadied herself, Amy noticed that Rouge, too, had paused, then. Teal eyes lingered on the wheelchair, on the footrests and the reinforced frame meant for bodies that couldn’t fully support themselves. Sunlight glinted off the metal, harmless and indifferent, and something sharp flickered across Rouge’s face - bitterness, quick and unguarded.

“…He’s going to hate this.”

Amy’s hands stilled on the edge of the trunk, glancing between the chair and her friend carefully. She didn’t argue, instead reaching in and lifted out the small potted roses she’d bought in the city - pale pinks and soft whites, petals still cool with dew, their scent faint but comforting. She cradled them carefully, a peace offering to ease her own trepid thoughts.

“...Yes... You're right that he will...” She spoke softly, brushing her bangs out of her eyes. A small, hopeful smile tugged at her mouth. “But… I think him hating it would actually be a good sign, don’t you? And honestly...” She tilted her head, glancing toward the house. “Shadow's a lot like Sonic in many ways, so I think he’s probably going to hate being stuck in bed even more. This is the best option until he can walk again. It might take some convincing, but I'm sure he'll see things the same way.”

There was a lot of assumptions to the statement: one Shadow would remember he would hate this when he wakes up. Another that Shadow will be capable of hating it when he wakes up. Even one where he wakes up at all, though everyone denied that possibility... There were plenty of unknowns to the situation, but Amy knew she had to be the one to offer something to ease both of their worries, even if it was naive to do so. Rouge exhaled through her nose, the tension easing just a fraction as her shoulders dropped.

“…Fair."

They fell into silence after that, the kind that wasn't awkward so much as heavy, full of thoughts neither of them wanted to voice. Rouge left her side to guide the wheelchair down the narrow stone path cut through Vanilla’s front lawn, the small wheels bumping softly over uneven ground. The grass on either side brushed Amy’s boots, warm from the sun, and the air itself felt thick and lived-in, saturated with the smoky, savory scent of barbecue, and Amy looked out to the front lawn then. Vanilla sat on her garden bench nearby, a book resting forgotten in her lap. When she noticed Amy and Rouge, she lifted a hand in a gentle wave, her smile soft and a little weary around the edges, the kind smile of someone trying very hard to make everything feel safe again. Cream’s laughter rang out bright and clear as she darted between the flowerbeds, Charmy zipping after her in erratic loops while Cheese and Chocola fluttered frantically in pursuit, squeaking encouragement as Espio meditated on the ground beside them, eyes closed. Their game sent petals trembling and leaves rustling, life spilling freely into the space.

like roses

waiting

to be planted

.

Rouge set the wheelchair down on the porch with a quiet sigh, easing her grip from the handles as tension bled out of her fingers. She leaned back against the railing, the cool wood pressing into her spine as she folded her arms and let her weight settle. For a moment, she just stood there, eyes drifting out over the yard.

Sonic and Amy lingered near the truck, caught mid-conversation. Amy and Sonic seemed to be done speaking, the two standing side by side, watching the yard, too, in contemplation. Amy looked... tired, whereas Sonic's face adorned that easy grin as he watched the kids play - but the smile didn't quite reach his eyes, like it had been put on out of habit rather than ease. Rouge would have to ask what they had been talking later. Meanwhile, Espio had joined Charmy and Cream in their game of tag, moving with deliberate slowness, theatrical in the way he pretended not to catch them. Charmy and Cream squealed in delight as Cheese and Chocola raced one another on foot. Vanilla had left her bench to stand near the grill, chatting with Vector as she watched him work. The crocodile was a flustered, blushing mess under her attention, but he still managed to flip hotdogs with unnecessary flair, chest puffed out as smoke curled lazily into the warm afternoon air.

Rouge rested her cheek against her knuckles, watching the whole scene like it might dissolve if she blinked too hard. 

“ROUGE.”

Omega’s voice rumbled up from below, pulling her from her thoughts. She turned her head to see him stationed at the base of the steps, optics angled up toward her. His armor gleamed in the sunlight - polished, pristine, a sharp contrast to the tension she still carried beneath her skin.

“MY SENSORS INDICATE A MODEST IMPROVEMENT IN YOUR VITAL SIGNS. HEART RATE: STABILIZED. SLEEP CYCLES: INCREASED.”

Rouge hummed softly, one wing twitching before settling again. Any other time, she'd try to ease in a joke, perfectly hiding any tension she had accidentally let slip... But this was Omega, and she was tired. She let her gaze drift past the fence, toward the treeline beyond, eyes half-lidded as her thoughts wandered.

“…I actually have been sleeping more, these past few nights… I’ve always told you both the importance of beauty sleep. It's about time I followed my own advice again, hm?”

“THE FRAILTY OF MEATBAGS REQUIRES FREQUENT SHUTDOWN PERIODS.” Omega replied, ever clinical. He turned his head to follow her line of sight. “SUCH INFERIORITY PERPLEXES ME.”

“Oh shush, don't ruin my small victory, big guy…” Rouge murmured, a smile tugging at her lips despite herself.

They fell into companionable silence after that, the space between them filled by laughter, sizzling meat, and the steady crackle of the grill. A breeze stirred Rouge’s hair, carrying the scent of smoke and flowers. She brushed what she could back over her shoulder, letting the moment linger.

“…Omega.” She said eventually, her tone casual in a way that fooled neither of them. “What do your sensors say about Shadow? Right now.”

There was a pause. Internal systems whirred softly, methodical as always. Despite his quirks, she was continuously pleased at his ability to never ask questions when she didn't want to answer.

“…SHADOW THE HEDGEHOG. THE ULTIMATE LIFEFORM. STATUS: …RESTING.” Another brief delay, data processing. “VITALS WITHIN ACCEPTABLE PARAMETERS. BREATHING STABLE. NO SIGNS OF DISTRESS.”

Rouge exhaled slowly, a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding.

“Good. That’s… good.”

Time kept passing. The sun climbed higher, warmth settling over the lawn as the last long shadows of morning retreated. Somewhere ahead, Vanilla laughed at something Vector said, the sound light and unburdened. Rouge kept her gaze forward, unwilling to break the spell.

“…How are we supposed to tell him?”

The question slipped out suddenly, softer than she’d intended. Omega turned his full attention back to her, optics narrowing as they focused.

“…SHADOW THE HEDGEHOG, MEATBAG OR NOT, IS STRONG. THE STRONGEST I KNOW. HE HAS SURVIVED EXTREME PHYSICAL TRAUMA BEFORE. STATISTICAL PROBABILITY OF RECOVERY REMAINS HIGH.”

Rouge’s mouth curved, the expression more sad than amused.

“…Some things don’t leave bruises you can punch through.” She closed her eyes, willing away the sting behind them. “Some fights don’t care how strong you are.”

“…AFFIRMATIVE. HE MAY ALREADY KNOW.”

The wind rustled through the garden once more, and the two said nothing else. Rouge stayed where she was, watching the people she had grown to love move and laugh and exist - holding onto the moment as tightly as she could, as if it might help prepare her for what came next.

—

The camp was in chaos. 

Floodlights stabbed through the encroaching dusk, carving long, jagged shadows across a sprawl of tents, armored transports, and half-assembled defenses hastily thrown together along the city’s outskirts. G.U.N. agents moved in tight, urgent lines, boots hammering against packed dirt as orders were barked over the ceaseless thrum of helicopter rotors. Transport trucks rolled in and out without pause - some crammed with evacuees wrapped in emergency blankets, faces hollow and stunned, others hauling crates of ammunition, generators, and heavy weaponry.

Above it all, the sky churned. Searchlights swept in erratic arcs as gunships banked low, rotors chopping the air. Smoke rose in uneven columns that smeared the fading light into dirty streaks of gray and orange. Reports of suspected Eggman activity crackled through radios from every direction, keeping nerves stretched thin in the wake of destruction already unfolding.

Rouge barely registered any of it as she touched down, heels clicking sharply against concrete. She lowered Omega with as much care as her trembling arms allowed, teeth gritted as his immense weight dragged at her shoulders. His single optic flickered weakly, error codes cycling so fast they blurred into meaningless strings, punctuated by bursts of harsh, stuttering static. “Careful - hey, careful!” An engineer barked as a group rushed in, shoving forward a gurney clearly designed for machinery rather than comfort.

“Shut up, I got him!” Rouge snapped, holding on until the very last second before letting them take his weight. The moment Omega was secured, she straightened, wings flaring reflexively as she spun toward the nearest soldier. “Take me to the Commander. Now.”

No one argued. They moved fast, urgency sharpening every step as they escorted her straight through the camp - past medics hunched over stretchers slick with antiseptic, officers shouting into headsets, clusters of shaken civilians huddled together for warmth and reassurance. At the center of it all loomed the largest tent in the base, communications arrays bristling from its roof like quills, thick cables snaking outward in every direction.

Inside, Commander Tower stood over a holographic projection of the city. Its streets blinked red in dozens of scattered hotspots, pulsing warnings layered atop one another. He looked up readily as Rouge stormed in, his expression already carved into grim expectation.

“Tower, what the fuck is going on?” Rouge demanded, not slowing as the tent flap fell shut behind her. The fur along her head bristled, rage simmering just beneath her skin. “This level of Eggman activity wasn’t anywhere in the debriefings. How did we get blindsided like this?!”

Tower exhaled through his nose, lifting his mismatched eyes to meet hers. Her fire met his steel head-on, his face unreadable even as tension thickened the air between them.

“You’re right. It wasn’t.”

He gestured toward the projection as fresh data cascaded across it - violent spikes, erratic and unstable.

“We’re detecting unknown energy signatures across the city, each appearing out of nowhere. It isn’t Eggman tech, we’re certain of that, but whatever it is, it’s scrambling our scanners before we can get a clean read. It mimics Chaos energy in some ways, but it’s… wrong. Corrupted. I’ve got a hunch this is something entirely new, nothing we’ve encountered before.”

…

The explanation did nothing to cool her fury.

Rouge hissed softly, ears flattening against her skull as she glared at him. “I need to go back. Shadow’s still out there, and you and I both know he’ll take on more than he can chew. I shouldn’t have wasted time coming here-!”

Tower shook his head once, sharp and final. “No. We need you here, Agent Rouge. The situation has changed. We’ll get Omega operational again as quickly as possible, but right now I need you both on civilian protection. Evac zones are being overrun, and if this escalates any further-”

“It already has, and he’s my partner!” Rouge snapped, slamming her hand down on the table hard enough to make the hologram stutter. “If you want to get a handle on this, you're going to need him!”

“Team Dark’s priority is, and always will be, civilians, Agent Rouge.” Tower shot back, straightening to his full height as he loomed over her, voice honed to command. “You are the last member of this team I ever expected to need reminding of that.”

Rouge didn’t back down.

She straightened to her full height, wings flexing wide enough to brush the edges of the command tent, and met Tower’s stare head-on. Her lips pulled back just enough to bare the sharp edges of her teeth - not a threat she bothered to hide anymore.

“The hell is your problem...?!” Vibrating with restrained fury, the thief sneered darkly, the sound of movement outside growing deaf to her ears. The audacity of this conversation was rendering her unreasonable. “You stand there talking about priorities like Shadow’s a line item on a report... Like he’s expendable. After everything he’s done for this planet. For you...”

Across the camp, Omega remained online, laid out on his side beneath the open flap of a maintenance tent. His chassis was propped on stabilizers while two engineers worked briskly over him, hands buried in exposed wiring where his torso met the severed mounts for his legs. Fresh replacement limbs rested nearby on a padded crate, unfinished and inert. His voice box lay removed on a tray beside him - cracked casing split open like a broken skull. Without it, the world felt wrong. Quiet in a way Omega did not appreciate.

Internally, he catalogued the damage with ruthless precision:

--Structural Integrity: compromised--

--Mobility reduced to zero--

--Vocal output: offline--

--Tactical efficiency: unacceptable--

The conclusion looped, feeding a low, constant agitation through his systems. For a brief moment, he considered initiating standby mode until repairs were complete, but the idea was rejected almost instantly. Standby was for downtime, for safety, for... surrender.

He had been beaten.

Something had gotten the upper hand on him without warning, without form, without a target he could lock onto - and that failure burned hotter than any damaged circuitry. He attempted to access his memory logs of the ambush, but the results had only aggravated him further:

--ERROR. DATA FRAGMENTED. CORRUPTED EXCEEDS SAFE RETRIEVEL PARAMETERS. ABORTING QUIERY. TERMINATING LOG-- 

Omega froze the process before it could cascade further, before he could lose anything important. The absence was… bad. He flagged the corrupted file, tagging it with priority markers and rerouting the alert to his internal queue.

--INFORM ROUGE THE BAT WHEN VOCAL SYSTEM IS RESTORED--

Something like frustration tightened through his remaining feedback loops as he stared out of the tent, watching the camp rush by in chaotic fragments - soldiers sprinting, medics shouting, vehicles roaring past in blurs of motion and heat signatures. He should be out there too, terminating whatever had done this to him, helping Rouge find Shadow... He didn't want to acknowledge that some of that frustration tangled with worry. The Ultimate Lifeform was strong, but the two had gone on as equals many times in their skirmishes. If something can do this to Omega, then what could it do to a meatbag like Shadow...?

...

Omega, forced to remain still and silent, found himself caught by something in the distance. Between two tanks parked just beyond the tent’s perimeter, in the world of movement and chaos, something remained... still. It was obscured within the shadows, it's figure unlike all the humans surrounding him, so it had to be a Mobian. One of the rescued civilians? No, they wouldn't be allowed in this area of camp... Had they snuck there anyway? Their posture was loose, casual, as though uncaring at who would see them, and they were definitely facing Omega's way. The arsenal's only working optic adjusted, narrowing its focus. G.U.N. soldiers rushed past within feet of him, boots pounding, rifles slung, not a single one reacting, as if the space he occupied had been carved out of their awareness entirely. Zooming in more, and more, and more, Omega can make out...

One golden eye, staring through a fractured mask, the rest of the face swallowed by darkness. 

Threat assessment protocols spiked instantly. Omega initiated a scan, diverting power from nonessential systems. His optic flared brighter as the scan failed again, feedback screeching through his internal sensors. The signature was wrong, too unstable, too familiar in ways he could not quantify. His targeting reticles refused to lock, and his threat library returned nothing but red flags and corrupted strings. With his voice box broken, he attempted to alert the engineers. What came out instead was a wet, broken sputter of static and compressed air, a distorted mechanical choke that barely qualified as sound. His chassis jerked involuntarily as he tried again, processors flooding commands to a system that simply wasn’t there to receive them.

One of the engineers jumped at the movement, glancing up in both stress and annoyance. “Hey, don’t do that!” He snapped, hands still buried in Omega's wiring. “You’re gonna mess up the calibration. Stay still, or we’ll power you down until we’re done.”

Omega wasn't listening. He sputtered more as the figure lifted one hand, two fingers moving in a slow, mocking salute, playful before the shadows folded inward, swallowing them whole. One blink, one flicker of light from a passing search beam - and the space between the tanks was empty. No heat signature, or residual energy Omega could track, just cold metal and the illusion that nothing had ever been there at all.

Back at the Commander's tent, Rouge laughed, sharp and humorless, the sound scraping its way out of her chest.

"Heartless... You're heartless, Abraham." She paced a tight half-circle in front of the table, glaring at the man darkly with each step. "I used to think you were better than that, Tower. Somewhere along the way, I thought you’d actually changed... It doesn't matter if Shadow can come back from death, he doesn't deserve to be ignored just because he's gone.”

The man stood rigid as she went on, hands braced against the edge of the table, eyes fixed on the hologram, like his stare alone could force the city to behave. He absorbed every word in silence, the way he always did - he was used to being yelled at by people who didn't know the full weight of what he carried, but this was different. Rouge the Bat had been his best agent for so many years, a trusted ally and confidant in so many ways... Her intellect made her words worm their way through his armor, and the implication that he would treat Shadow that way just made his composure crack. 

“Do you think this is easy for me, Agent Rouge...?” 

His voice cut through the tent like a gunshot, and any weaker person would've crumbled from his tone alone. Rouge was not such a weakling, but she gave him the courtesy to stop moving and listen, at least. 

“I have civilians bleeding out in the streets, families being pulled from collapsed buildings, entire evacuation routes gone dark, all within an hour. The Doctor gave us no warning, and there's something out there helping him we know nothing about. This something took Omega down like he was nothing, and our strongest Agent is nowhere to be found. I am prioritizing the people I know we can help now, so we have time to assist Shadow when we find him. You actually think I am ordering you away from his last known location because of some grudge I had against him as a child?! Is that all I am to you, Agent Rouge?"

Jaw tightening, Rouge held his stare, voice low but no less sharp. 

"No, that's not all you are to me, but don't stand there and pretend this is just strategy when it feels like abandonment. If any other G.U.N. soldier had gone missing, Team Dark would've been sent in on search and rescue immediately. Shadow being Shadow shouldn't change that!" 

For a moment, Tower looked like he might snap again. Instead, his shoulders sagged - just barely, but enough that Rouge saw it, the way the iron line of his posture loosened, his grip on the table easing as he dragged a hand down his face, fingers lingering at his mouth. 

“...You think I don’t know that?” The edge was gone from his voice now, replaced with something rougher. Tower's eyes lifting from the hologram at last to meet hers. “Shadow is not expendable. He never has been. Not to this organization, not to this world...” His gaze flickered, unfocused for a heartbeat. “And certainly not to me. Rouge, he forgave me for the past, and we've long since moved on. I don't make this choice lightly..."

...

That was rare. 

Rouge stilled completely.

The man kept on, words heavy. "I've known Shadow for nearly all my life. I've seen him lose himself, and then spend years clawing his way toward something resembling inner peace, toward trust, all for people like me who may not deserve it. If he's out there right now, being hunted we cannot even name-!" He broke off, breathing in through his nose, regaining control with visible effort. "In the name of our sister, you don't think that'd keep me up at night?"

...

The silence that followed was thick, suffocating.

Rouge’s anger faltered, replaced by something sharper: understanding. Beneath the command, beneath the rules and the impossible choices, she saw it clearly now - the worry he kept locked down because he had to. Tower straightened again, professionalism snapping back into place like armor.

“I can’t afford to make emotional calls. Not when thousands of lives are on the line. That doesn’t mean I don’t care, it means I can’t let that care blind me. I didn't lie to you earlier... We will find him, but your well-being matters too.”

...

The thief swallowed, her shoulders lowered, tension bleeding out of her posture as she exhaled slowly. She crossed her arms, biting her lip as she looked at the man with half-lidded eyes. 

"...I crossed a line. I shouldn't have implied that, so I apologize, sir." The words didn’t come easily, but they were honest. Still, she couldn't waste time in areas away from Shadow's last known ping. There had to be a compromise, something that'd benefit the two of them readily-

The tent flap shifted.

...

...

...

...

...

The thought would never conclude.

Both the human and the bat turned in unison, surprise cutting sharp through the tension already coiled in the tent. No one entered the Commander’s tent without announcing themselves - all except the agent who already stood inside. Even drowned beneath the roar of engines and shouted orders outside, Rouge would have felt someone approach. The cadence of footsteps, the displacement of air, the subtle shift in the space around her that her instincts had been honed to catch long before danger ever struck. Had she missed it? The idea barely had time to form before she dismissed it.

Because when she turned, it wasn’t a soldier. It wasn't a human either.

The stranger stood in the tent’s entrance, framed by the harsh white glare of floodlights beyond the canvas. Tall and lean, dark reds and blacks clung to him like shadows given shape, his fur swallowing light instead of reflecting it. Wild white hair crowned his head, stark against the darkness, and an angular mask concealed most of his face. Through a break in it, one golden eye watched them with open, unsettling focus, large tail swishing behind him lazily. He had to be a canine - a jackal? - of some kind, his clawed hands closing the curtain behind him as he stepped inside casually. 

At the center of his chest, a red gemstone pulsed faintly, alive with a slow, predatory rhythm.

Rouge's breath caught.

On any other day - any other life - she might have been enticed the symmetry of such a jewel, the dangerous allure that seemed to fill the air the moment she laid eyes on it. Any other time, she may have called it beautiful...

...

But this wasn't just beauty. 

This was a rhododendron - vivid, intoxicating, and poisonous to the core, a warning dressed as temptation. That one moment of distraction would cost her. She didn't have time to move when something unseen hit her. 

The impact came without sound or warning, an invisible force slamming into her gut with crushing precision. The air was torn from her lungs in a strangled gasp as her feet left the ground, wings flaring uselessly as she was hurled backward. She struck hard, the world blurring as she crashed to the floor, pain detonating through her core as she curled instinctively inward, clutching her stomach.

"Rouge!" She had heard Tower shout, and from the tears of pain in her eyes she could see him reaching for his sidearm...

...

Only for his hand to close on empty air.

“Careful...” The stranger chuckled, voice smooth and distorted, layered with something that made Rouge’s blood freeze. She recognized that laughter instantly. “Wouldn’t want to make this any messier than it already is.”

In the blink of an eye, the intruder was no longer at the entrance, he was standing on the table, the data shuttering beneath his boots. Tower barely had time to look up before his own pistol was pressed against his forehead, metal biting into skin. The jackal cocked his head to the side, studying him with open amusement. The Commander froze, hands slowly lifting as his eyes flicked to Rouge, still gasping on the floor.

“...You must be the one who attacked Omega... The one who caused Shadow's disappearance...” The man uttered, sweat forming on his brow. "...Who are you?" 

The jackal didn’t answer immediately.

Instead, he let the moment stretch, savoring it. The gun stayed pressed to Tower’s forehead, unwavering, as though it were an extension of his arm rather than something he might choose to lower. His single visible eye flicked briefly around the tent - over the holographic map, the scattered data readouts, the half-frozen bat curled on the floor - before settling back on the Commander.

"...Hm." A soft, thoughtful sound. Amused. “You know… This is actually our first proper meeting.” He turned his head, looking at nothing as his tail wagged playfully behind him. "The Doctor's told me so much about you... Commander Abraham Tower. Iron spine, ice-cold judgement... A man who will stare down the end of the world if it means buying his people another minute or two..." He looked back, eye flashing a pale, sickly color as he chuckled. "I have to say... I'm impressed. Most humans would be begging for mercy by now... At least, I assume so. I've heard a lot of it today already." 

...

Tower didn’t flinch. His eyes locked forward with unyielding resolve, the faintest beads of sweat forming at his temple betraying the tension beneath his composed exterior. He remained perfectly still, every muscle taut but controlled.

“Who are you…” He repeated, voice even and unblinking. “…and what do you want?”

Behind him, Rouge sucked in a shallow breath, a sharp flare of pain radiating through her abdomen. Gritting her teeth, she forced herself onto one elbow, lifting her head just enough to glare up at the imposing figure towering above them. Her vision blurred slightly at the edges, but her focus stayed razor sharp. The mention of “the Doctor” had to mean none other than Eggman, and unless this stranger was bluffing, then this was the source of all their turmoil...

A slow, mocking voice cut through the tense silence.

“Oh, forgive me… I’m so rude, not introducing myself.”

The intruder straightened to his full height atop the table, his posture theatrically exaggerated as he swept one hand outward in a grand, almost mocking bow, as if the cold, unforgiving pistol pressed to Tower’s forehead wasn’t a threat, but a mere prop in some twisted performance. The red gemstone embedded in his chest pulsed vividly, casting flickering crimson light that danced sharply off the angular edges of his mask.

“You may call me... Infinite.”

...

...

...

The name meant nothing to G.U.N., but Tower absorbed it without a flicker of reaction, his voice steady. “Infinite... what do you want?”

A low, delighted laugh rumbled from the jackal, echoing unpleasantly against the tent walls. His single visible eye gleamed with cruel amusement.

“Straight to the point. I like that.” His gaze flicked briefly toward the tent entrance. “I must say, I’m very impressed you haven’t called for backup. Most commanders panic, start shouting orders, and get a lot of innocent people killed in the process. I’ve seen it happen a lot today.” He leaned forward slightly, the barrel of the gun pressing harder against Tower’s temple. “You’re smart... You know you don’t understand the full extent of the threat yet. So you’re hoping I’ll talk, maybe let something slip, something that’ll give you a hint of what I really am...”

...

Tower’s heterochromatic eyes narrowed sharply, a flicker of steel flashing beneath his calm facade, but he remained silent. Infinite’s grin deepened - cruel, confident, and utterly devoid of warmth.

“Good instinct...” 

Suddenly, his gaze shifted downward, locking sharply onto Rouge. She was bracing herself on the floor, pain evident in every movement, but her eyes blazed with fierce defiance. Slowly, painfully, she pushed herself up to her knees, wings instinctively curling around her as a shield.

“Y-you…!” Her voice cracked with barely suppressed fury, raw and trembling. “You didn’t come here to gloat…” Her eyes sharpened, cutting through the haze of pain. “That was you I heard laughing... Where is he? Where’s Shadow?! What have you done?!”

A scoff echoed in her ears, low and dark. Infinite’s tail stilled, and he cocked his head to the side, studying her like a predator weighing its prey. The faintest trace of false warmth flickered in his eye but vanished instantly, replaced by icy calculation. One claw tapped deliberately against the trigger of the pistol in his hand.

“Oh… relax.” He said smoothly, voice laced with mock reassurance. “Your hedgehog is just fine...”

Rouge’s breath caught sharply, her eyes widening in shocked disbelief at the blunt confession. Relief, however, never came. Instead, the shadow of dread deepened as he continued, his tone dripping with wicked amusement.

“Ah… well, we should define ‘fine.’” Infinite hummed thoughtfully, tapping beneath his helmet as if pondering some trivial puzzle as he finally lowered the gun. His gaze drifted up to the tent’s canvas ceiling while his tail began to wag slowly, a mimicry of friendliness. “He’s… rather upset. Out of his mind, really. Revenge consumes him. He hates humans, hates this planet, wants nothing more than to see it burn to the ground... I have no opinion, personally. But it’s quite the sudden change for him, wouldn’t you say? He’s agreed to help me and the Doctor with our plans… though he’s just furious at you, Commander, so I thought I’d drop by before he got the chance to kill you. Wanted to meet the legend before you’re snuffed out. Hope you don’t mind.”

...

...

…

What?

“...What?”

Tower’s steely composure faltered, a flash of uncertainty crossing his face. Rouge’s mouth dropped open, shock rooting her in place as the weight of Infinite’s words settled between them like a dark cloud. Infinite looked between them coyly, shrugging his shoulders as if he had simply told them a fascinating fact about the weather.

Infinite nodded solemnly, his single golden eye glinting with a strange gravity. "I know, I can't believe it either. I suppose old grudges don't really die."

In hindsight, Rouge couldn't help but think... had he been listening to their entire conversation all along? The thought was chilling.

Tower shook his head, denying the notion vehemently as he found his strength again, frown deepening. He stood firm in the face of such adversity...

Rouge would remember that fondly.

"No." The man insisted, turning his nose up at Infinite like what he just said was revolting to him. Truly, it had been. "Shadow and I buried that hatchet a long time ago. If anything’s happened to him - if Shadow has changed - it’s because something or someone else is controlling him. He would not want this. That is not who he is-" 

A roaring laugh burst from Infinite, rich and mocking, echoing off the tent walls like a thunderclap. He shook his head, and, as if indulging a child’s naive hope, he wagged a claw at the Commander with a patronizing tut. “Lying won’t prolong your fate, old man. Your precious Agent is on his way right now, and because you're so funny, for your sake I hope what he does is quick and painless.”

Anger flared in the Commander's eyes as he rose to his full height, leveling himself with Infinite now, uncaring of the weapon and power the other clearly possessed. “Then give this dying man an answer: what have you done to him?” Tower demanded, voice edged with steel. 

...

...

...

Infinite tilted his head thoughtfully, a fain sigh escaping him - wistful, almost tired.

...

"...You really won't change your mind? You won't believe he would choose to do this...?"

...

"You have such... faith... It's sad..."

...

"...Fine."

...

"...I'm imagining it..."

Chillingly, Infinite whispered, his ears twitching as he cradled the gun to his chest.

"Shadow the Hedgehog is storming through this camp as we speak, just to find you... Covered in the blood of a civilian he had just impaled with his arm, his fur drenched and glistening... If anyone gets in his way, if anyone tries to stop him, he'll wrap his hands around their necks and squeeze until he hears a crunch, and their breathing stops... Or maybe he'll just keep squeezing, and let go when he feels like it. I can't pretend to understand what's going through his mind when he does it. He's an alien freak, he's not like me. But I can tell he's satisfied by it, nonetheless. At first, he'll move quietly. But the more people he comes across, the more reckless he gets, and then he can't help himself, lunging at whoever is unlucky enough to stand in his way, uncaring who watches."

...

...

...

Was it their imagination? There was the sound of gunfire in the distance, of confused, horrified shouting, and Rouge paled as the Commander stiffened. They could say nothing, the creature in front of them sounding more deranged with each passing moment.

"He'll find his way into here... Eventually. It might take a while, what with so many people here... But he'll find you. He'll smile when he does, too, and he'll look crazy, but that's the most cathartic he's ever been... You'll get to see the real him before he grabs you. I think he'll take you to outside, so everyone can watch, because their begging will be music to his ears at this point, but he wonders how they'd react to seeing the man they followed so faithfully be reduced to nothing... Hm, he might take this from me..."

He holds up the gun absentmindedly, moving it so it'd reflect light.

"And shoot you in both of your legs, just for a little game, for the symbolism of the action. He'll tell you, 'If you can run away, I'll let you go!', but we both know it's just cruelty for the sake of it, something that'll make the stupid who witness it have a sliver of hope. You'll try anyway, because you're desperate and a fighter, but when you inevitably fail, he'll drag you back to where you started, and that's when his fun will start. He'll break your shot up legs beneath his boots, and then break your arms for good measure. He'll start digging into your chest with his hands, past your clothing, just to peel back your skin, layer by layer, until he's able to play with your insides, particularly your intestines. He won't touch anything vital, of course. Not yet. Not until he plucks both your eyes and your tongue out... I read once that the Black Arms were a carnivorous race that played with their food on occasion, so I don't expect he'll just carelessly toss your parts aside, good sir. I think he'll prolong it. He hates you so much, for the things you did, that he doesn't want to give you the satisfaction of a peaceful exit. He wants that show, because he's selfish and egotistical and crazy, all for revenge. Will you bleed out, or will he get bored and get to sink his teeth into your throat? Who could say? But do you want to know the worst part of all this...?"

Then, slowly, Infinite raised both of his hands outward, the air around him filled with odd red pixels of energy that made the two shudder from the oppressive force. Every instinct within her was telling Rouge to get up and go, to grab the Commander and drag him away from this madman, but she felt frozen in place by these words. Words so disgusting, all describing her dearest friend... Shadow would never. Even if he were controlled, he... he would never...!

"The world will forget all the good you two have done. They’ll forget the sacrifices you made, the victories you claimed, the hope of what your rekindled friendship meant... In that moment, they’ll only see a monster in him… and a martyr in you. History will eventually call you a fool - someone who let a creature like that too close... And he'll just have to live with the fact that he killed his Commanding officer in such a terrible way with a smile on his face. How will he react later? He'll try and deny it, claim it was someone else, a copy of him made to play the part... But that copy will have his capabilities. It'll have his looks, his demeanor, his strengths and his smile. Controlled or cloned, this is what he's capable of. Do you think that will drive him crazy, knowing you died without knowing which it was? You'll be so hurt, so betrayed, that you might even stop caring, and damn him for all eternity. I can't wait to see that."

...

...

...

...

...

The tent flap moved, pushed aside by a bloody hand. 

There was so much blood, too much to tell where it had come from. It soaked into the fur of his chest and arms, matted dark on his gloves, smeared across his face like a second, glistening skin. It dripped from the tips of his gloves to the canvas floor in slow, deliberate drops. His quills were wild, flared out at unnatural angles as if electricity still crawled through them, clotted in places with drying crimson that glued them together in jagged, uneven spikes, bits of meat and gore stuck to him here and there. His posture was loose, horribly so, like a body that had forgotten the weight of its own bones, and those eyes...

Utterly hollow. No fire or thought like Infinite had claimed, just a dead, glassy stare that looked at nothing. Like a corpse animated by spite alone. His smile wasn’t wide, or manic, or exaggerated, and that was what made it so unbearable. A slow, quiet curl of the mouth, like he was savoring a private joke no one else could hear. Blood cracked at the corner of his lips as they parted, teeth catching the light, ready to sink into unwilling flesh...

—

There was a reason it was hard for Rouge to sleep these days.

—

Lunch settled over the yard like a gentle exhale after held breath. Warmth hung in the air - sunlight, smoke, and the faint sweetness of roses blending together - while laughter drifted through the open windows in loose, easy waves. Plates clinked, someone barked out a joke, and the grill hissed and popped like a living thing. It was domestic and bright and alive in a way that felt almost precious.

Vanilla excused herself with a polite smile, smoothing the front of her dress as she slipped back inside. Cream had been very particular about the picnic - blankets were non-negotiable, apparently - and Vanilla, as always, was happy to oblige. She had declined everyone's offer to go get them for her, wishing to indulge her daughter whenever she could.

The hallway swallowed the noise the moment she stepped in. Cool, dim, and quiet, it felt like crossing a threshold into another world, and for a moment, she was happy to no longer hear the sound of that ventilator... Her steps softened automatically as she stopped at the closet, opening it with practiced familiarity. She scanned the shelves once, then again, her smile fading when her hands came up empty.

"Oh... Now, where did I put them...?" 

A soft hum followed as she turned toward the guest bedroom instead. The door was still slightly ajar, just as she left it. Vanilla slowed without quite meaning to, one hand lifting to rest lightly against the frame as she leaned in.

The room beyond was washed in gentle, filtered light, curtains drawn just enough to let the afternoon glow spill across the floor. Dust motes floated lazily in the air, undisturbed. Everything felt hushed, truly separated from the calm of the outside...

Shadow lay exactly where she’d last seen him. Still and pale, the blanket were pulled neatly up to his chest, framing a body that seemed almost too thin for the bed beneath him. His shoulders barely disturbed the fabric, his breathing shallow but steady - a careful rise and fall that reassured her even as it made her chest ache. He looked fragile in a way that felt wrong for someone who had once been so indestructible.

'Poor thing...' Tenderness tightening her throat, she stepped inside quietly, closing the distance with care, as if sound alone might disturb him. The door creaked faintly as it swung wider, and she winced, pausing until the noise settled before easing it shut behind her. Crossing to the closet, she opened it and rose onto the tips of her toes, fingers stretching to reach the folded blankets stacked on the top shelf.

...

There, just behind her... a soft sound. A faint shuffle, barely more than fabric brushing against itself. Vanilla stilled for a heartbeat, her large ears twitching, then relaxed. 'He must’ve shifted,' she reasoned gently. Her thoughts drifted back outside as she gathered the blankets into her arms. 'We'll need to make a ramp for the wheelchair... maybe clear out a better path for it to move outside... I'll ask Tails and Vector to help, I'm sure they won't mind...'

She turned, a smile on her face as she turned to look at Shadow once more, to give one last glance over to make sure he looked comfortable, at least...

...

...

...

Vanilla’s breath caught sharply in her chest as the weight of his gaze settled over her. The blankets slipped a fraction in her arms, fingers tightening reflexively to keep from dropping them. The air felt suddenly heavier, the silence pressing in around her ears until even her own heartbeat sounded too loud.

Shadow hadn’t moved. His body lay exactly as before, limbs undisturbed, blankets smooth and unwrinkled.

His eyes were open. Not the groggy, unfocused stare that had been kept fixated on the ceiling...

But wide, blank eyes, locked onto her with unnerving precision.

...

...

...

Shadow was awake.

Chapter Text

He didn't know how long he was out. 

Minutes? Days? Weeks? Months? Years? Decades? Eons? 

...

Eternity... Infinity... It had stretched out before him. And yet, simultaneously, it felt like no time had passed at all. 

...

...

...

...

...

With a groan, Shadow's eyes opened with great effort, his head feeling as though it had been stuffed with cotton. 

His head felt stuffed with cotton, heavy and wrong, his thoughts sluggish as if wading through thick fog. The first sensation that cut through the haze was pain in his face, dull, aching, and humiliating. His cheek was pressed against cold steel, the surface slick beneath him, and it took a heartbeat too long to understand why.

Drool.

His drool, smeared across the table in an undignified mess.

The realization struck like a slap. Shadow jerked upright, shoulders snapping tense, quills flaring wildly as he wiped his mouth with the back of his glove. A low, disgusted sound tore from his throat, raw and involuntary. His head rang - not sharp pain, but the hollow reverberation left behind after something vast and invasive had passed through him and torn its way out. His thoughts felt scooped clean, scraped down to nothing, and whatever had been there before was gone, replaced by a vague, clinging terror that lingered like a stain. His mouth tasted wrong too, thick and metallic, as if something bitter had coated his tongue and teeth. His stomach lurched, and he swallowed hard, fighting the reflexive urge to gag.

'What... What had...?'

Shadow placed both hands on the metal surface in front of him to steady himself, but even the cool surface beneath his palms left him confused. Something wasn't right, not even with this table, but he couldn't remember... His murky expression stared back up at him, and he flinched when the sway of his head bounced that horrific light into his eyes.

The light... yes, he remembered where he was, at least, an he turned his head toward the window behind him with a scowl. It poured in from somewhere high and unseen, bleaching the walls, the floor, the table itself into harsh, sterile white. Eye burning, Shadow squinted before having to look away. It was too bright, too constant, and it carried no warmth, offering no blanket that would sink into his fur or skin the way sunlight should. 'Artificial,' he thought distantly. 'It had to be.' The idea that something could mimic the sun so perfectly and still feel so wrong made his quills prickle.

'...How long was I out for...?'

The question had no answer. He reached for memory again and found only fragments - color and sound bleeding together, a suffocating sense of dread, the certainty that something terrible was happening and that he couldn’t stop it. His chest tightened as he tried to push further, and he shuddered instead, breath hitching at the ghost sensation of hands on his mouth, forcing him to ingest something. A pill? Had it been a pill? Whatever that drug had done to him, it had stripped something away. Left him… empty. Had that been what Infinite wanted? To just... render him so helpless?

...

Infinite...

Crimson dropped back to the table.

The assortment of food was gone. Every plate the jackal had taken extensive time explaining to him had vanished... All except one. Placed before him with the utmost care... was his toast. Beside it lay a folded scrap of paper, and Shadow's eyes narrowed as he snatched it first, fingers curling tight enough to crease it before he forced himself to read.

Eat, it'll help you feel better~ I will return shortly.

-Infinite 

The growl that tore from his chest was low and feral, vibrating through the confines of the room like a warning meant for no one and everyone. His claws scraped faintly against the metal table as his fist clenched, crushing the note until the paper bent and tore between his fingers. Every instinct screamed at him to hurl the plate across the room, to refuse anything Infinite had touched, prepared, or suggested.

...But body betrayed him anyway. A sharp, nauseating twist ripped through his gut, followed by a sudden wash of weakness that made the edges of his vision blur. He sucked in a breath through his teeth, shoulders tensing as he rode it out, stunned by the depth of it. He hadn’t realized how empty he truly was until now - how his body felt like it was eating itself just to remain upright. The hollowness wasn’t only in his head, it seemed.

“…Ugh. Damn it…”

He didn’t want to eat. The thought alone made his skin crawl, as though he could hear the jackal’s voice threaded through the ink of that note, smug and expectant... But refusing would be foolish. Pride wouldn’t carry him out of this place. If he wanted to escape, he needed strength - whatever scraps of it he could claw back. He wasn’t getting far dizzy and shackled, and hunger would only distract him...

Reluctantly, he picked up the toast. He sniffed it once, suspicion etched into every line of his face before he bit into it. The bread was dry, flavorless, scraping unpleasantly against his throat as he forced it down. His jaw stayed tight, muscles coiled as though bracing for poison, for a delayed cruelty he couldn’t see coming. He chewed mechanically, each bite heavy and degrading, waiting for the trick, but none came. No burning or dizziness, and definitely no world melting around him in a rainfall of color. Just the dull, humiliating necessity of eating so his body wouldn’t betray him again. He finished quickly, refusing to linger on the act any longer than necessary. When he swallowed the last bite, the plate was empty.

...He was still hungry, but for now, it would have to do.

Infinite would return soon. Which meant time - whatever that meant in this place - was already slipping through his fingers. Shadow pushed himself up from the table, legs protesting as they straightened, a brief wobble betraying how long he must have been left slumped there. He paused, drew in a slow breath through his nose, and steadied himself before moving.

…

The light was still unbearable.

It poured in from the windows in relentless sheets, harsh and sterile, bleaching the room until every surface glared back at him. It stabbed at his eyes, forcing him to turn his head away with a sharp scowl. There was no warmth to it, no comfort - just clinical, invasive illumination. He ignored it as best he could and focused on the room instead, forcing his mind into something useful. Map. Assess. Catalogue. That's what G.U.N. training had suggested. It's what Team Dark could do if the situation called for it. He may have relied on his innate power for results a majority of the time, but that didn't mean he was an idiot. He pushed the thought of his teammates out of his head to focus on the task at hand, turning toward that horrible looking door first.

It was still large. Still decorative to the point of excess, its surface smooth and pristine, almost mocking. Shadow approached it cautiously, bare paws silent against the cool tile beneath him. He reached out, fingers hovering for half a second longer than necessary. A part of him half-expected them to pass straight through again, to prove that none of this was real, that the room itself was still lying to him...

...

It didn’t. The metal knob was solid beneath his grip, cold enough to seep into his palm. Relief flickered, brief and useless as he tested its turn once. Then again, harder this time, frustration curling hot in his chest when it refused to budge. There was no visible lock or seam, nothing to pick or pry at without tools he didn’t have.

On any other day, he might have scoffed at the idea of a door stopping him. Now, weakened and disoriented, it might as well have been a wall.

“Tch… of course nothing’s this easy…”

He stepped away with a quiet hiss, gaze sliding to the fireplace embedded into the wall beside an overstuffed chair and a neatly arranged bookshelf. From here, it was obviously electric, meaning it was entirely useless to him too. No chimney meant no hidden path upward. The luxury felt mocking with each detail he noted, every feature designed for comfort and containment, not escape.

That left the windows, which he refused to look at if he wanted to prevent his skull from bursting, and the last door.

Smaller, unassuming, and left slightly ajar, Shadow moved toward it and eased into the bathroom, steps slow and measured.

...

“Unbelievable…”

The excess hit him all at once. The space was enormous, immaculate to the point of sterility. Marble floors gleamed beneath the same cold white light, every surface polished to a mirror shine. Gold and chrome fixtures caught and reflected the glare, tasteful in a way that felt rehearsed, curated for someone who wanted to prove they had nothing to prove. The tub dominated the room. It was massive - sunken into the floor, wide enough to stretch out in, ringed with built-in jets like a private hot spring masquerading as a bath. It was the kind of indulgence that demanded attention simply by existing. His quills bristled at the display, the sort of overzealous luxury he expected only from the Doctor… but apparently, it suited Infinite's tastes as well. Birds of a feather.

He stepped farther inside, paws sinking slightly into plush rugs that were offensively soft beneath his feet. The air carried a scent - bergamot layered with something floral, as well as humidity. His eyes drifted to the tub, and his stomach tightened when he noticed the last scattered droplets clinging to its surface.

Recently used.

The thought turned sour immediately. Had Infinite used it while he was unconscious? Had he been left slumped on that table while the jackal bathed just a room away? Or worse... had it been before he woke up in the bed?

…

The idea of being asleep - unaware, defenseless - while someone that dangerous and insufferably smug moved freely around him made his skin crawl. He's didn't enjoy sleeping around people he would deem allies, let alone strangers and foes. The only ones he's ever felt comfortable doing so around was Maria, Rouge, Omega, and... and...

...

Shadow turned his head away sharply, a heavy frown carving into his features.

...

That's when he noticed the mirror. 

It loomed above the sink, tall and pristine, its surface so perfectly clean it barely seemed real. He hesitated only a moment before moving toward it, steps slow, as if the glass might do something more than simply show his face. The sink beneath it offered nothing useful, not even a razor he could use if he was so desperate... Just a bar of soap resting on a dish and a hand towel folded with irritating neatness at the side, corners aligned with measured precision. 

He lifted his gaze.

...

For a split second, he barely recognized himself - not because anything was wrong, but because, despite the situation, everything looked fine. His face was as clean cut as always, his fur shiny enough from the care he typically gave it. His quills were slightly disheveled, bent here and there out of their usual sharp order from sleep, and there were faint shadows beneath his eyes, small but unmistakable. Fatigue, not damage... His eyes, though...

Shadow leaned closer, forcing himself to not squint. 

Red rimmed the edges of them, subtle but unmistakable. Had he been crying? Blinking, they actually felt rather dry, like he hadn't just been sleeping... His chest tightened, searching his reflection for an explanation it refused to give him. He felt no more fatigued than he did when he woke up, but why did he look so... odd? Crimson eyes lowered as something else caught his eye, something he had nearly forgotten completely about. 

The collar sat snug around his neck, it's eerie, dead gray standing starkly against his fur. He raised a hand immediately to tug at it, feeling no give, and he tilted his head to angle it in the mirror. There had to be something - a hidden panel, an indentation, something that he could break open to turn the damn thing off... But there was nothing of the sort. He did pause, however, when his eyes landed on the etching written cleanly against that surface, the text small and black, reflected perfectly in the mirror:

OREZ

Light poured through it in thick, blinding sheets, stabbing straight into his skull. Shadow recoiled instinctively, breath hitching as his body shuddered. Too bright, that fucking light, that light - when would that glare ever shut off, the artificial pressure that burned away time and sleep and mercy? The edges of his swimming vision flared red for a terrifying moment as he squeezed his eyes shut again, teeth clenched hard enough to ache before crimson withered open again. He promised he would stop... But it never stopped, it... it just...

He couldn't finish the thought, because something moved on his left again. He turned his head just enough to see Vanilla kneeling beside him. She was close, far too close, her expression stricken, eyes shining, mouth moving quickly as she spoke... but the words didn't reach him, dissolving before meaning could form, slipping past his ears like water. Apologies... Reassurances... Lies. It didn't matter. It didn't matter at all. The hybrid looked at her once, briefly, then away again, scanning the room with frantic precision. There were corners, the doorway, the ceiling, the emptiness, there's emptiness, why is there emptiness? He’s going to step out any second now. 

The thought lodged deep and fast, setting his pulse racing. Shadow tensed, bracing for the sound of slow clapping, for that voice curling around his name, the rewards, so many rewards-

A touch landed on his hand.

...

...

...

...

...

Shadow had visited Vanilla’s home many times… before.

At first, it had been because of Rouge.

The bat had never fit into the quiet, humble life Vanilla had built for herself and her daughter, and she never would, but she’d insisted there was something “cozy” about the little cottage, something that would make their “troubles go away" if only for an afternoon. Shadow had figured that that only meant hers, not his, and the first visit had come wrapped in excuses to get him to go.

"A wellness check."
"We should see if they need anything."
"Oh, we were just nearby - don’t be such a grouch, hun!"

He’d been irritated, dragged along when all he wanted was silence.

Cream, at least, wasn’t a stranger. He knew her in passing, in the loose, peripheral way he knew most of Sonic’s orbit. He kept his distance, ignored the curious, uncertain looks she sent his way, in much the same manner he did with Charmy and Tails. It wasn’t disdain... it was deliberate. Children were fragile beings, and he knew what happened when fragility brushed too close to violence. He refused to relive those lessons every time danger found them.

So he built a barrier, one personal and perfect, in order to keep himself... safe. Being uncomfortable around them was expected.

…

That, and he didn’t know how to conduct himself when they were present. Children were, above all else, unpredictable.

Charmy had helped during the Black Arms invasion, darting through the chaos with reckless joy, utterly unfazed by Shadow’s presence... or his origin. The bee had treated him like a novelty rather than a weapon, showering him with praise in between breathless requests.

“Wow! You’re so cool, Shadow! You took that alien out with one punch! You’re, like, the coolest guy I know!... Hey, hey! Can I have your gun? Pleeeaaase? I won’t tell Espio or Vector you let me see it, I promise!”

Shadow had stared at him in baffled silence. Maybe he had pulled his gun out when he hadn't needed to, and maybe he had let the kid take a peak at it once the chamber was empty. Who was to say?

Cream, on the other hand, had been polite... Mostly quiet. She kept close to Amy, small hands folded, posture perfect. But there was a fire in her eyes when someone crossed a line - when something felt unfair or, even worse, mean. Team Dark had found themselves on the receiving end more than once, and he could still hear Rouge and Amy stifling laughter every time the little rabbit marched up to him, chin high, finger wagging with all the authority she could muster.

“That’s not a nice thing to say about Mr. Sonic, Mr. Shadow! He tries his very best to be the fastest! You should apologize the next time you see him!”

Shadow never did, but... he listened. He found himself trying to be mindful on the things that upset her, opting to be silent rather than combative to avoid her tiny wrath.

Tails mostly acted… nervous around him.

That was fine. Expected, even. Too much about the fox reminded Shadow of his sister anyway - the wide blue eyes, the restless curiosity, the way his mind never seemed to stop moving, so the resemblance was close enough that Shadow found he didn’t mind the distance between them. Distance was safer. Distance meant he didn’t have to look too closely at the ways the past tried to bleed into the present.

But... there had been one day.

One unremarkable skirmish, one mess of metal and smoke, with Sonic locked in combat against his mechanical double. The Doctor had fired a random shot at a nearby building, ad with Sonic too busy to do anything else, Shadow had intercepted it on instinct alone. He’d grabbed Tails, the one most at risk from the rubble, and dropped him back onto solid ground before the blast could reach him, already irritated, already simmering with leftover adrenaline. And he’d... snapped. He had called the fox careless, weak, and a liability for even thinking to get that close. In hindsight, he didn't know where that anger came from that day... Tails took it all in stride. The boy had listened in silence, face tightening into a deep frown as he pushed himself upright, brushing dirt and grease from his gloves. His ears flattened, not in fear, but in resolve, and when he looked back up at Shadow, his eyes were bright with something sharp and unyielding.

“…You don’t need to treat me like I’ll shatter and fall apart, Shadow.” Tails had said, voice steady despite the tremor still running through him. He wiped his brow, squared his shoulders, and tried to look bigger than he was. “I break things all the time... and when I do, I put them back together. Thank you for saving me, but next time, I'll be the one saving you, so watch out!”

There had been no pleading in it, no hurt, just... sheer determination. Shadow had been stunned as he watched the kid fly off to help Sonic, a determined smile on his face that matched his brother's. Not by defiance, but by the way Tails had pulled himself back together and chosen to stand taller, to reach higher, without asking for permission. It had reminded Shadow, painfully and plainly, that this boy genius was not an echo of a memory. He was his own person, one Shadow clearly did not know well.

It was… not something Shadow thought he needed reminding of.

...

All that being said, Shadow had thought he'd never been good with children. Rouge had insisted anyway, because he "should" meet Vanilla properly. He couldn’t imagine why - the young rabbit was likely afraid of him, even if she’d berated him more than once for his “rudeness.” Why her mother would want him anywhere near her home made no sense at all, but Rouge had a way of getting what she wanted.

So, after a routine G.U.N. mission, after leaving Omega behind to debrief their superiors, Shadow found himself standing on a small front porch at dusk - arms crossed, frown set deep, and resisting the urge to leave outright. Rouge knocked lightly, humming under her breath, entirely unbothered by his scowl.

Time stretched, and Shadow’s irritation grew. He wanted rest, to put the day behind him, not sit through a meal he didn’t need with a family he didn’t know-

And, like an answered prayer that knew not to grant his wish, the door opened.

Warmth spilled out to meet them.

Light - not harsh, not glaring - soft and golden, like yellow carnations bleeding gently into the purples and blues of approaching night. The scent of something hearty and familiar drifted from the kitchen, enough to make even Shadow’s nose twitch despite himself. Vanilla stood there, already smiling, already ushering them inside as if they’d always been expected, and there had been no hesitation in her posture. No fear, or careful distance. Just... welcoming them, like they had been long time friends.

Cream sat at the table, crayons scattered around her, waiting for dinner.

When she looked up and saw them, her face lit up, open and bright, and something in Shadow stalled.

She looked… genuinely happy to see them.

...

He hadn’t known what to do with that.

He remembered being guided inside, seated beside Cream while Vanilla finished cooking, Rouge chatting easily at her side as if this were the most natural thing in the world. He’d been exhausted that day, wound tight and irritable, but those feelings faded into something quieter... uncertainty. He couldn’t recall what Cream had said to him, or what he’d replied, but he remembered her drawings, the girl showing them to him like they were her most treasured belongings: some of Amy and Cream. Plenty of Cheese and Chocola. Sonic, saving the day, again and again and again.

Then she’d tugged out black and red crayons and asked him - politely, always politely - to hold very still so she could make him something special.

...He did. And, somewhere along the way, without quite realizing it, Shadow had picked up a pencil too. Five minutes of coaxing, and his mind slipped into a rhythm he hadn’t touched in years, a familiar stillness settling over him like it had never left. He told himself it was exhaustion, that it meant nothing, but in that house, in that moment, he hadn’t minded letting his guard down.

Rouge and Vanilla joined them soon after. Food was placed in front of him despite his quiet protest - ham, mashed potatoes, vegetables, tea. He didn’t need it...

But... he did eat it. And it was... nice. 

...

It was… cozy.

It hadn’t taken long for those visits to continue. Longer, still, before he started coming alone. Drawn to the simplicity, to a life he’d never been meant to have.

...

During those visits, Vanilla had touched his arm once or twice, just like she was now. It was polite, gentle, careful, never harsh, and by no means ever cruel. 

He hadn’t grown up with much of that. Maria's sisterly affection was a joy, but her days had been riddled with sickness that prevented him from getting her comfort when he may have needed it most - and vice versa. The Professor’s stern, careful guidance was pleasant enough, but it only resulted in head pats that Shadow would've found condescending if he had received them currently. Later, the cold expectations of soldiers who only saw his utility just meant pain. Touch had always meant something complicated, something earned or taken... but...

Vanilla had meant nothing by it. No threat or demand had followed her light touches. It was like how Rouge touched him, or even how Sonic casually put his hands on him, and the realization that some Mobians on Earth were just touchy like that only bothered him for a few days at the time. He’d never corrected her, only quietly adjusted himself around the discomfort, until eventually… he’d gotten used to it, ever so curious about this lady who had only approached him with kindness...

This touch was the same. Her gloved fingers were like feathers against his arm, a touch that existed to ground the one who received it unconsciously. 

And it felt like fire. 

Outside, all was well.

The grill hissed and popped beneath Vector’s careful watch, smoke curling lazily into the open air as if it had nowhere better to be. He balanced a stack of plates in one thick arm, tongs in the other, moving with the easy confidence of someone used to feeding a crowd. Espio appeared at his side without comment, accepted the plates with a brief nod, and immediately redirected them where they mattered most. Cream and Charmy had collapsed into the grass after an enthusiastic round of tag, cheeks flushed, wings and ears drooping with happy exhaustion. Yet the moment food appeared, both of them lit up completely, the bee back on his feet in an instant, bouncing on his heels as if gravity had lost its grip on him, while the rabbit beamed so brightly it seemed contagious. Cheese and Chocola spun excited loops overhead, chiming in shrill, joyful harmony.

Vector snorted, the sound fond despite himself, and turned back to the grill.

“Careful... Still hot.” He warned as he passed the next plate over his shoulder.

Rouge took it with a slow grin, eyes half-lidded, something warm and genuine flickering beneath the usual tensity she adorned these days. “Mmm, when am I not?” She purred, already stepping off the porch. Omega sat beside the steps, perfectly still, a silent monument of steel and restraint. In one smooth, practiced motion, Rouge climbed up and settled herself on his broad shoulders, crossing her legs as though it were the most natural seat in the world. “You really know how to treat a lady...” She added lightly, then, after a moment, a quiet "thanks" left her lips.

Omega’s optics flickered, but he did not move.

Sonic snagged the next plate mid-spin, flashing Vector a thumbs-up. “I’ll take whatever’s left after, big guy!” He said, already turning to pass the plate straight to Amy, who accepted it with a small smile that didn’t quite settle. Something lingered between them - words exchanged earlier, half-said and carefully shelved, and Sonic felt it tug at him anyway. He sighed, rubbed the back of his neck, and looked for a distraction... He found it in one particular kiddo who was eating happily. Crouching beside her in the grass, he forced brightness into his voice, the kind that usually came easy.

“Hey!” He said lightly, and a genuine chuckle left him when she turned to him with big, wide eyes. He remembered Tails being this little when they met, and he had grown to find amusement in everything kids did. “After lunch, wanna help me and Amy plant those roses she got?”

The pots sat nearby, simple and unassuming, dark soil and green leaves catching the sun. Cream followed his gaze, then looked back up at him, her face breaking into a radiant smile. She swallowed her bite before answering, as polite as ever.

“Oh, yes please, Mr. Sonic! I want to plant the best flowers ever!”

“Yeah?” Sonic chuckled, some of the tightness easing out of his shoulders. “What’s the rush - competition or something? You know that a green thumb like Amy will give you the edge you need, yeah?”

“Oh, no...” Cream shook her head, suddenly serious. Her smile softened as she looked down at her plate, thoughtful in a way that didn’t quite fit someone her age, and the Hero found himself stunned. “I want them to be good for Mr. Shadow. Mother said he would really enjoy them when he wakes up… and that plants help with, um, healing. So they need to be the best so he can heal fast, and then we can play together again.”

...

Rouge paused mid-bite, lowering her food slowly. Amy looked away. Vector winced and turned his attention back to the grill with unnecessary focus, while Espio’s brow furrowed. The only two with no outward reaction were Omega, who remained motionless, exactly as he needed to be, and Charmy, the boy blissfully oblivious of the tension, kept eating. Sonic had to fight not to still entirely, his ears twitched as a breeze passed.

“Ah… I see.” He managed, but that didn't seem good enough. Something sharp and quiet pulled at his chest, but smoothed it down before it could show. Without quite realizing it, Sonic stood and walked over to the pots, hands on his hips as he examined them, aware of the curious and sad eyes on him as he did so. After a moment, he crouched and lifted one, carrying it back with deliberate care. Cream watched him the entire time, curious, as he tilted it toward her for approval.

“How about this one?” A small smile crept onto his face. Of all the plants, this rose - a deep, ruby red - hadn’t bloomed yet. Its bud sat on the edge of becoming, a hope for a moment yet to come. “From all of us... to Shadow. By the time he wakes up, it’ll be in full bloom, so he'll get to see how beautiful it is.”

The logic was sound. Cream gasped, delight bursting across her face. “Yes! Yes, that one! We can keep it inside since it’s special!”

“Sounds perfect!” Sonic said, and he meant it. He really didn't know what these flowers meant to Infinite, but he knew Shadow, knew him enough that he didn't care about flowers themselves, but the intent of the one who gave them. He was like that with all gifts... Shaking his head before he'd get distracted by memories, the speedster smirked, nodding to himself as he spoke. “I’ll go ask your mom for a real pot, and then we can-”

The sound cut him off. Muffled by walls and distance, it remained unmistakable.

Charmy stopped mid-bounce, he and Cream turning their heads towards the home with wide eyes. Amy jumped where she stood, broken from her thoughts, eyes widening as she nearly dropped her plate. Omega's optics flared to life, his head lifting, and Rouge dropped her food altogether, wings flaring as the color drained from her face. Espio and Vector, too, had already been turning to the door, ready to run inside...

...

But Sonic was faster. 

He didn't think. The pot stayed in his hands by sheer instinct as he vanished in a burst of blue, gravel spraying beneath his feet. The door didn’t so much open as it did give, and he was gone inside, tearing down the hall toward the guest bedroom, heart pounding louder with every step.

Shadow screamed before he could stop himself, the sound ripping out of his throat as his muscles seized, nerves igniting all at once, like someone had struck flint straight against his spine. He tried to jerk away and couldn’t - couldn’t move fast enough, couldn’t move at all - that right leg useless in its sling, the rest of him too weak, too wrong, too slow. The pain wasn’t sharp so much as everywhere, a violent blooming that left him gasping, claws digging into the mattress. Vanilla withdrew instantly, her hand vanished as though burned, eyes blown wide as she stumbled back a step, her mouth moving fast, words tumbling over each other in a rush of apology and alarm.

Shadow didn’t hear them. They slid past him, meaningless noise against the roar in his skull. Too much. It was too much. This wasn’t right - none of it was right, you messed up, you just keep messing up - his skin felt wrong, the air felt wrong, the room pressed in on him like it was waiting for something to happen. Where is he. The thought clawed up through the chaos, frantic and desperate. Where is he?! The hybrid's breathing hitched, turning shallow and uneven as panic overtook reason entirely, crimson eyes darting wildly, scanning corners, shadows, the doorway - anywhere, everywhere, all at once.

He needed him.

He needed him.

This was wrong, it was all wrong, and it wouldn’t stop. No words would come out of his mouth, his begging deaf to even himself.

Please. Please, I can't. I can't - I can't. Please. Please. Please. Please.

Tears welled freely now, blurring his vision as his chest heaved. He tried to sit up, to move, to do anything other than lie there exposed and helpless, but his strength gave out immediately. His shoulders barely lifted before he collapsed back against the mattress, a strangled sound tearing from his throat as the effort sent fresh sparks of pain through his body. He lay there shaking, humiliated by the tears, by the weakness, by the way his thoughts kept reaching for salvation in the shape of a monster. He could faintly hear the shout of someone else past the door over Vanilla's shoulder, urgent as it approached, familiar in a way that made Shadow freeze. He couldn’t move. He couldn’t hide. His heart slammed against his ribs as footsteps thundered closer, too fast, too sudden, and all he could do was catch his breath right between a gasp and a sob-

The bathroom light flickered.

Shadow stood rigid before the mirror, palms braced hard against the porcelain as his reflection stared back at him - pupils blown wide, breath uneven, ears snapping flat the instant the door behind him clicked shut. The sound rang too loud in the tiled space, sharp and final. He could hear the pause in the jackal’s footsteps beyond it, could feel the way the other lingered, unhurried, as if taking his time to drink in the room, to savor the certainty that there was nowhere left to go. A low growl crawled up Shadow’s throat as he turned away from the mirror, fists clenching at his sides. His head felt stuffed with cotton, thoughts dragging, sluggish where they should have been razor-sharp. But haze or no haze, weakened or not, he was the Ultimate Lifeform.

He would not shrink. He would not cower. He would not let his fear show. He would not hide.

Teeth bared, he fixed his glare on the bathroom door just as it creaked open, Infinite stepping inside with infuriating ease.

“Oh, there you are!” The jackal chirped pleasantly. “Did you sleep well?”

The voice slid into the room smooth and indulgent, thick with satisfaction. Shadow straightened instantly, shoulders squaring as his posture snapped into defiance, crimson eyes locking onto the intrusion. Infinite stood framed in the doorway, mask nowhere in sight, his sharp grin laid bare - wicked, delighted, and far too personal. His tail swayed lazily behind him, like this were a reunion rather than an invasion.

“Aw, don’t look so glum, my muse...” Infinite stepped fully inside, the door clicking shut with quiet finality. “I know what you went through earlier was scary. Coupled with your condition, I imagine what you see can get a little… exaggerated.” His tone softened into something mockingly sympathetic. “And waking up alone? Oh, that must’ve been dreadful. You have my sincerest apologies. I was called away on important matters, but I'll be sure to keep you company the next time you take your medicine.”

Not this again. Shadow’s glare sharpened, red eyes burning even as the room tilted faintly around him. “Get. Out.” The word tore free as a low snarl as he dropped into a guarded stance, muscles coiling on instinct alone. His knees trembled, traitorous and weak, but he ignored it, refused to acknowledge the way his body lagged behind his intent.

Infinite’s gaze swept over him once, slow and assessing, before he laughed quietly, entirely unbothered. He made no move to leave. Instead, he lifted what he’d been holding.

...

Shadow wanted to ignore it. Wanted to keep his focus locked on the jackal’s face, on the threat standing a few paces away - but the sight was so jarring, so profoundly strange, that his eyes betrayed him, lowering.

...

...

...

A bouquet of roses.

"I brought you a gift."

Infinite had said, cradling the bouquet as though it were something precious to him. They weren't.

"An apology, of course, for leaving you alone..."

Infinite had said, his smile widening as he looked at Shadow coyly, his eyes a dull flare in comparison to the glittering gem on his chest. 

"But... consider it also a token of celebration. Today marks the true beginning of your recovery. That's something you should be very proud of, Shadow the Hedgehog. The hardest part is taking that step forward, but you, coming here, staying here, with me... It'll be grand what we do together."

Infinite had said, moving to close the distance between them, holding out those flowers like he expected Shadow to take them.

His smile had been handsome, the scar on his face had been hideous.

The words had been proud, their tone had been cruel. 

...

how many times..........would I receive these......apologies..........................................................................why...........................................................what did I do wrong...

Routine. Routine. COUNT. Routine. Routine. why. Routine. sleep. Routine. Routine. Routine. Routine. Routine. Routine. you'redoinggreat. Routine. Routine. Routine. Routine. Routine. Routine. Routine. Routine. Routine. Weak... Routine. Routine. Routine. Routine. No. look to infinity. Routine. Routine. Routine. Routine. Routine. Routine. Routine. Routine. Routine. Routine. ACCOUNTABILITY. Routine. Routine. Routine. Routine. Routine. Routine. Routine. Routine. Routine. Routine. Routine. COUNT. Routine.  Routine. Routine. Routine. Routine. Routine. Routine. Routine. Routine. Hide. Routine. Routine. Routine. Routine. Routine. Routine. Routine. Routine. No. Routine. Routine. Routine. Routine. stop talking. get your hands off me! Routine. Routine. Routine. Routine. Routine. Routine. Routine. Routine. Routine. itsyourfault. Routine. Routine. Routine. Routine. Routine.  COUNT. Routine. Routine. why. Routine. Routine. Routine. Routine. Routine. Routine. it's too hot. Routine. Routine. Routine. Routine. don't think about it. Routine. Routine. Routine. Routine.  Routine. Routine. Routine. It's my favorite part. Routine. Routine. Routine. Routine. Routine. I'm pretty? Routine. Routine. Weak... Routine. Routine. Routine. Routine. Routine. SHADOW. Routine. Routine. the hole. Routine. Routine. Routine. Routine. Routine. Routine. Routine. Routine. Routine. Routine. Routine. Routine. Routine. Routine. Routine. Routine. Routine. Routine. Routine. Routine. Routine. COUNT. Routine. Routine. Routine. Routine. Routine. CONGRATULATIONSCONGRATULATIONSCONGRATULATIONS. Routine. Routine. Routine. Routine. what happens next is because of you. Routine. Routine. Routine. Routine. Routine. Routine. Routine. Routine. Routine. Routine. Routine. Routine. No. Routine. Routine.  Routine. Routine. Routine. Routine. please. Routine. Routine. Routine. Routine. Routine. Weak... I'm pretty like this? Routine. .yawynauoyetahllayeht Routine. Routine. Routine. Routine. why. Routine. Routine.

Sonic rounded the corner at a dead sprint, the world narrowing to the hallway and the sound that had ripped through it. The door to the guest bedroom was already ajar, and he didn't slow, bursting through with the potted rose still cradled against his chest.

"Vanilla?! Vanilla, what's-?! What... Oh..."

...

Shadow was awake.

He lay on his back, sheets twisted and strangled beneath him, his body shaking so violently the mattress trembled in protest. One hand, still tethered to the IV, was curled tight against his chest, claws sunk so deeply into his own fur that Sonic could see the faint, sickening tremor where muscle seized and released in stuttering bursts of pain. His other hand clawed uselessly at the bedspread, nails snagging fabric, searching for purchase that wasn’t there. One leg dragged wildly beneath the covers while the other, trapped in its sling, strained against its restraints in jerking, desperate motions. He was trying to put distance between himself and the figure kneeling beside him, his unkempt fur bristling in jagged spikes, only one ear managing to flatten while the other twitched uncontrollably, trapped somewhere between a fight he couldn't win, and a flight he couldn't make.

Vanilla’s entire focus was locked onto the hedgehog before her. Her voice was low and urgent, words tumbling over each other in breathless apology as her hands hovered helplessly in the air, unsure where safety began and harm might follow.

“Shadow, please - please listen to me. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you. You’re safe, sweetheart, you’re safe - just breathe with me, alright? Look at me, look at me - ”

...

But…

He wasn’t looking at her.

He was looking at Sonic.

Sonic’s eyes widened, and despite the adrenaline roaring through his veins, his knees nearly gave beneath him the moment ruby met emerald.

For one suspended, impossible second, the world went silent.

…Not a Phantom Copy. Not another cruel, hollow imitation stitched together by an enemy’s hand. Sonic had known that already, had known the moment they found him broken and barely breathing that this Shadow was real. Theirs... His. The unmistakable presence Sonic had chased through nightmares and war-torn battlefields for a year straight.

...

...

...

He had lied to himself.

Lied that he hadn’t scanned every battlefield with a hunter’s desperation, eyes cutting through smoke and fire for even a sliver of black and crimson between collapsing towers and swarming enemies. Lied that he hadn’t learned the shape of Shadow’s silhouette in a hundred wrong bodies, that his pulse didn’t spike every time one of those copies turned its head just right. Lied that he hadn’t started hitting harder - faster, sloppier - whenever another one appeared, teeth clenched, muscles screaming as he overcommitted again and again, hoping, begging for the day his fists would draw blood instead of exploding into those glittering red fragments of stolen power.

He told himself and others that it was strategy, a necessary brutality in a war that didn’t allow room for hesitation.

It hadn’t been.

It had been... grief with nowhere to go.

Hope morphed into desperation, which then morphed into a weapon that turned inward.

And now... Now it didn’t matter that the Shadow in front of him was fractured and shaking, fur matted and dull, his body gaunt beneath tangled sheets. It didn’t matter that he looked breakable in a way Sonic had never let himself imagine. Because the moment their eyes locked, Sonic’s heart lurched so hard it felt like it might crack his ribs from the inside.

There was a sharpness in that stare. Blunted, splintered, drowning in terror... but present. Raw awareness burned beneath the panic, unmistakable and undeniable. Not a hollow mimicry, not a scripted cruelty, but there was a recognition there, wasn’t there? Pain and fear, yes, horror coiled tight, but also... consciousness. Memory, and the true self.

That was him. Their Shadow.

His Shadow.

...

Their last conversation... before Sonic had been captured, before Shadow had vanished... had been… painful.

The kind of pain that didn’t fade with time, the kind that only coiled like barbed wire when left alone too long. Words thrown like knives, words neither of them could take back. Sonic had replayed them in his head more times than he would ever admit, dissecting every inflection, every pause, every unspoken thing left rotting between them. He’d carried so much anger after, so much bitter loathing for Shadow’s rejection, for the way he’d torn everything down as if it all meant nothing, as if Sonic himself had meant nothing.

He’d told himself Shadow was just being cruel... Self-destructive... An act of fury to spite only himself.

But... none of that mattered now.

Because standing there, with Shadow awake, aware, alive in front of him, irrationality burst through Sonic’s chest anyway. Joy, unstoppable enough to hurt. Hope, reckless enough to ignore every warning bell screaming in his head. A smile threatened to break free before he could stop it, breath catching as he stepped forward on instinct alone. The rose pot drew tighter to his chest, arms curling around it like an anchor, like proof, proof that this moment was real.

That...That they could...try...again...It's what...Sonic...wanted...more than anything...

“Shadow…” The Hero breathed, the name barely more than a whisper - reverent, trembling, threaded with a year’s worth of unsaid things - as his eyes shimmered with wetness that refused to fall. “Shadow… it’s you… I-”

Sonic took that step forward.

And Shadow's eyes snapped downward.

To the flower.

The rose.

It wasn't a slow realization, and it wasn't confusion easing into fear. It was instant, his eyes locking onto what Sonic was holding, onto the presence of a small, innocent flower.

The scream tore out of him was disgusting, louder than before, ripping through the room like shrapnel against paper. It wasn’t pain alone - it was a genuine terror, recognition twisted into evil, a sound dragged up from somewhere too deep to reach. His body convulsed violently, back arching as his claws raked down his own chest, drawing thin lines of red through his fur as he fought against everything at once.

"No-no, n-no!" The words came apart in his mouth, collapsing, diverging, the meaning lost to time and space. "Don't - D-D-Don't, I don't, no!" Shadow's head thrashed about, eyes losing their focus, skidding wildly across the room to track something no one else could see, black blood flicking from the wound on his chest. "You said - y-youuuuu - - no!"

Vanilla gasped, horror cutting clean through her composure. "Sonic!" She cried, voice breaking as she turned to look at him, eyes frantic. She had to grab Shadow's wrist and pull it away, and she had to wince as his screams turned into sounding like someone being burned alive. "Sonic, the blanket - on the floor, right there - grab it, now-!"

Chapter Text

The first thing Sonic became aware of was the hum. 

Low and constant, it vibrated through his bones before it ever reached his ears, a steady electrical thrum that set his teeth on edge. Consciousness dragged itself back in pieces - pain first, blooming along his ribs, his shoulder, the back of his skull. His breath hitched as he sucked in air that tasted like metal and ozone, and the world lurched unpleasantly when he tried to move, a groan escaping past his lips. Blue light flared when his eyes creaked open, a violent crackle snapping around his wrists and ankles, and Sonic cried out, muscles seizing as electricity bit down hard enough to make his vision white out at the edges. His back slammed into the cold floor again, lungs emptying in a sharp gasp as the current eased, leaving his limbs buzzing and numb.

"...H...Hngh - okay... Okay, not... great..."

His voice was rough and hoarse as he rasped, and, after a few moments of catching his breath, Sonic forced his eyes open. 

Unfortunately, given many circumstances in his life, the sight wasn't exactly unfamiliar. He was in a cell, the long, rectangular box of steel and shadow offering seamless walls that curved ever so slightly inward as if to lean over him. The floor beneath him was cold and faintly reflective, scuffed only where he’d been thrown down. His wrists were bound together above his head by thick, glowing blue cuffs, the same kind mirrored around his ankles, cables sunk neatly into the floor and walls. Every small movement sent a warning spark dancing along the restraints, eager to render him useless. Sonic swallowed at the sensation, forcing himself to remain still as he looked upward. Beyond the open side of the cell stretched a narrow hallow, its length swallowed by darkness. No doors or windows were visible, just the smooth metal that offered a quiet mockery that it went on far longer than he could see from there. The only thing to note was something mounted directly across the cell he was in, embedded in the far wall of the corridor - a wide, blank screen, black and lifeless, reflecting his own battered shape back at him in dull distortion.

He groaned softly as he shifted, grit scraping against his gloves. Every inch of him ached, bruises blooming beneath his fur, something sharp and deep throbbing along his side when he tried to sit up. He managed it anyway, shoulders curling forward as he leaned against the pull of the cuffs, head dropping for a moment as he caught his breath.

“…Okay… Think, Sonic, think…” He muttered to himself, voice thin in the cavernous metal box. His ears were still ringing, thoughts sluggish and disjointed, sliding just out of reach no matter how tightly he tried to grab hold of them. He squeezed his eyes shut, teeth gritting as another pulse of pain throbbed behind them. “What happened…?”

…

The City.

It came back in fragments at first, sound before sight. Sirens wailing, the metal grinding, the distant, panicked roar of a crowd trying to outrun something that did not tire.

Shattered streets spiderwebbed with cracks, smoke billowing up in greasy columns that turned the afternoon sky into a choking gray haze. Eggman’s insignia burned bright red against the sides of drop-ships hovering overhead, their underbellies opening like mechanical maws to release wave after wave of Badniks into the streets below. Laser fire streaked between buildings, shattering glass and stone indiscriminately.

People, Mobian and human alike, ran.

The attack had been so... strange. There was no dramatic build-up, no warning broadcast depicting an unhinged madman smugly cackling moments before the terror. It was so unlike Eggman to invade somewhere with such lethal, silent precision. As such, it had been a blessing that both Sonic and Tails had been nearby when the first explosions hit the area-

"...Tails..."

In the present, Sonic breathed heavily, head snapping up in the cell as the memory sharpened painfully into focus. 

He remembered the decision, quick and wordless between them at the first sounds of terrified civilians: they had to split up in the chaos. Sonic would take the streets, Tails would go to the people.

It was a choice they always made when the stakes got too high for hesitation or discussion, and they played their parts perfectly. The Hero had been a blur of blue through smoke and falling debris, ricocheting between buildings, tearing through Badnik after Badnik before they could lock onto fleeing civilians. He’d grabbed a woman seconds before a missile detonated behind her, dropped her safely onto a fire escape two blocks over, and was already gone before she could finish shouting her thanks. He’d scooped up a pair of kids, one human, the other a Mobian squirrel, and tucked under each arm as he vaulted over a collapsing bus, skidding to a halt just long enough to set them down behind a barricade of overturned cars where G.U.N. soldiers were forming a defensive line.

The soldiers had nodded sharply at him as he passed. When they had gotten there, he had no clue, and despite the instinctual disdain he got whenever he saw their uniforms he gave them a brief nod before springing back into action. He couldn't see much beyond their visors, but there was something off about the way they carried themselves. Those soldiers had been trained for moments like this, and yet their movements seemed... panicked, in a sense. So unlike themselves...

...

A squad crumpled against the side of a cratered building, armor scorched and smoking, weapons scattered uselessly across the pavement. Sonic had registered it in a split second - the precision of the damage, the way the metal had been cut clean instead of blasted apart. Water had started pouring out of that building, not at all standard, not at all moving the way water should... It tickled something in his memory, but even in the present, it was slipping through his grasp...

Regardless, there had been no time to linger. There were too many screams, too many people who needed help. He hadn't had the time to investigate what happened to those who had fallen already.

He kept moving.

And, truly, he had moved with perfection. There had been nothing more to ask of him. Sonic was on top of his game, and with each robot taken down, he felt like he could take on a hundred more. Even if more smoke grew, even if a weird fog began to roll in, the speedster felt he could turn the tide of the situation, a feat he had accomplished more than a million times in his life. 

And yet, through the static and shouting and the relentless crackle of explosions, Tails’ voice had cut through his communicator suddenly, sharp and panicked in a way Sonic almost never heard.

“Sonic!”

It hadn’t been fear for himself. 

"Something's wrong, Sonic! There's - KZZT - There's this fog-!"

The channel had filled with interference, the screech of static swallowing the rest.

Sonic’s heart had dropped into his stomach. “Tails? Tails, where are you?” He hadn't waited for an answer, already pivoting mid-stride, sneakers grinding against asphalt as he tore off in the direction he had seen Tails leave in.

He’d run harder than he had all day.

The smoke thickened the deeper he went into the district Tails had headed toward - residential, quieter streets now in ruins. The buildings here were lower, the streets narrower... The worst place to be cornered in. Sonic rounded the corner at full speed, and he took in the sight before he truly registered it: Tails stood in the center of the street, twin tails spinning hard enough to kick up a cyclone of ash and debris around him. His fur was smeared dark with soot, goggles cracked along one lens, one glove torn at the knuckles. He was planted firmly in front of a cluster of terrified Mobian children huddled against the wall of a half-collapsed apartment building. Surrounding them was a semicircle of Eggman’s heavy assault units, bulkier than the standard models, optics glowing a uniform, unnatural red. Their cannons charged, and targeting lasers danced across Tails’ small frame.

The boy, in all his bravery, didn't budge. 

“Sonic!” Tails called, not in panic this time, but in warning, gritting his teeth as his eyes narrowed defiantly. 

When the first robot fired, Sonic was already there. He hit the first line before the blasts could reach their mark, a blue streak tearing through metal bodies with bone-rattling force. He bounced off one chassis, flipped over another, drove both feet into a third hard enough to send it skidding into the rest like bowling pins. Explosions rippled outward in a chain reaction, smoke and sparks engulfing the street in a roaring bloom of heat and light. A spindash, a well-timed kick - within seconds, the assault unit was nothing but twisted scrap and flickering optics.

The street fell silent except for the crackle of small fires and the whimpers of the children. Sonic landed lightly in front of Tails, brushing ash from his shoulder with a grin that was just a little too bright. “Is everyone okay?" 

It took a moment, but the kids huddled behind Tails began to cheer in earnest, relief on all of their faces at the sight of the Hero. Tails laughed breathlessly, relief flooding his features as he dusted himself off too. "We are, thanks to you. Cutting it kinda close, though, dude."

"Yeah, that's pretty much how I roll..." Sonic’s grin lingered for only a second longer before his expression shifted, sharp instincts cutting through the levity. He glanced over his shoulder at the smoking wreckage littering the street, optics still flickering weakly in shattered metal skulls.

“...What happened?” He asked after a moment, already scanning the rooftops for a sign of... something. “You sounded freaked.”

Still catching his breath, Tails’ ears flicked back slightly as he adjusted his gloves, biting his lip in annoyance at the torn one.

“I was escorting people out like we planned... But it's weird, Sonic. Every robot I take down, it’s like two more show up to replace them. I'm not seeing any fall down from the Egg Carriers above us, either, so I have no idea where they're coming from..." His voice dipped, uncertainty creeping in. “I thought I had a clear path for these kids, but after I took out two robots, a whole squad boxed us in here, almost like they were herding us.”

...

Sonic’s nose wrinkled, his smile fading completely. The smoke that had been drifting lazily upward now seemed to sink instead, thickening unnaturally as it rolled down the street in a low, creeping mist. It swallowed the far end of the block first, dulling the outlines of buildings into vague silhouettes. The crackling fires sounded distant suddenly, and behind them, the children’s cheering tapered off into confused murmurs. One of the younger ones tugged at Tails’ wrist as another whimpered quietly.

Tails' uncertainty came plain to his face then, ears twitching hard as they angled toward the fog-choked street, somewhere beyond Sonic's shoulder.

"Do you... hear that...?"

...

No, there was nothing. No sirens, no engines, no distant artillery, and least of all any screams. The entire city, just moments ago a battlefield, had gone quiet.

That was worse than hearing something.

The kids instinctively huddled closer together behind Tails, small hands clutching at his gloves and fur as if he were a shield. The boy, not much older than the ones cowering behind him, allowed it, his fur standing on end as he looked around anxiously. Sonic’s jaw tightened as he stepped forward slightly, eyes narrowing as he peered into the fog. It blanketed the road completely now, thick enough that he couldn’t see more than a few yards ahead. A heavy frown settled on his face as his casual stance gradually stiffened.