Work Text:
“Wakey wakey, hedgehog!”
Sonic stirs awake, eyes adjusting to the sheer brightness of wherever he is—where is this place, anyway? Let’s see, he’s attached to some sort of machinery, lots of technology outside, red outlines on sterile walls, red outfit, red, red, red— oh, right.
“Whatever you’re plotting, it’s not gonna work, Eggman.” He and Shadow had been raiding another one of Eggman’s new bases when he got caught off guard. He isn’t too worried—either Shadow or one of his friends is gonna barge into the room any moment, now.
“Oh, Sonic,” he says, voice muffled by the glass dome encasing Sonic, “only I possess the genius needed to rule this world! Just look outside! Out there is a world with a lack of my brilliant leadership. Once my master plan succeeds—which it will—this world will be improved like no other! Simple, efficient, glorious. ” Eggman sighed, shaking his head dramatically. “If only you animals could see that…”
“Yeah,” Sonic says, fervently searching for escape routes, “we can tell that your plan to enslave everyone on this planet is messed up.” All of them fall short, though, given that he can’t break through the restraints on his arms and legs.
“Oh-ho! Agree to disagree.” Pressing the bridge of his glasses against that large forehead of his, he hums. “You know, you always go on and on about that freedom thing…this drivel bores me, rodent. But it’s always freedom to you all, isn’t it? Freedom to do whatever you want, freedom to be yourself…bah! I don’t understand how you rodents are all so unique. So… wrong.” He pressed his hands against the capsule, his sneer a misshapen marionette’s. “ But that’s going to change now.”
Trying to appear unfazed, Sonic gives him his signature shit-eating grin. “My friends are gonna barge in here any moment and wreck your stuff.”
Eggman scoffs. “They are but annoying distractions. My robots will handle them.”
“If you think they’re gonna lose to a bunch of cute little Eggpawns in hardhats, you have another think coming.”
A shrug, and then a tip of the head. “It doesn’t matter. I merely need enough time for—” he raised his hand, “this!” With a toothy grin plastered on his face, he slammed a button on the console table with a flourish.
With a whirr, the metal directly above him shifts; the jaws of the machine unhinge to reveal a…giant ball of light?
He fails to stop the laugh from escaping his throat. “Is that your newest invention?” he asks, a smirk on his face. “A fancy light bulb?” He…isn’t entirely sure what that thing is; it’s definitely not something that screams “ Gah-hah-hah-hah! Die, hedgehog!”. Sure, there are some complex-looking geometries surrounding the light, but it basically boiled down to a glorified light source.
“Indeed!” Eggman bellows, putting on his goggles. “Its brilliance is undoubtedly lost upon you, but that’ll soon change.”
What is that thing, anyway? Eggman had been talking about this…orb as if it was something extraordinary. It doesn’t appear to be something that can turn him into a robot zombie, nor does it look like something that’s gonna rearrange his entrails. Though, he snaps back to Eggman when he hears furious typing.
“Listen very closely, hedgehog,” he says, grinning from ear to ear, “the voices that are of the heavens themselves—”
And the machine shrieks. It shrieks in each lexicon of the wind. His eyes water. Pain chimes in his head. Feels his fur begin to singe.
Get this—gah—stupid thing…off me!
He struggles against the restraints to no avail. But at that moment, something black crashes through the ceiling, practically bifurcating the control panel.
“Gah! Shadow?”
Electrical discharge courses through the control panel; his restraints retract. An opening—
Not wasting any time, he spindashes through the capsule holding him, landing on the ground with a flourish. Gathering his bearings, he saw Shadow taking care of the Badniks that Eggman no doubt called.
“Shadow, the machine!” he yells through the commotion, thrusting a finger at the still-functioning contraption.
Roundhouse kicking a Buzz Bomber, Shadow gives him a curt nod.
Using the Badniks as footing, they dived toward the giant orb.
Muscles tensing up, he curls into a ball—
—and the brush of his quills against cold metal has never felt this good in a while.
“No, no, no! What are you wretched hedgehogs doing!?”
"We're doing what we do best! Wrecking your stuff!"
And they spindash and spindash and spindash until Eggman’s latest doohickey is nothing more than a pile of smouldering scrap, landing in front of a seething Eggman with a practiced air.
He glances at his own body—whoops, whaddaya know, he didn’t turn into a werewolf or a robot. “Great job, doc. You gave me a migraine and maybe made me lose my appetite,” he said, dusting himself off. “I’d say that’s a point for you and your genius.”
“Gah! Curse you irritating hedgehogs! You haven’t seen the last of me!” As if a switch had been flipped, Eggman flashed his signature toothy grin once more. “…but for now, I shall bid you two adieu.” A jetpack emerges from his back as he slams a fist onto the metal button on his coat. “Toodles!”
And with that, he whizzes away at a less-than-safe angular velocity, cackling as he disappeared into the skies.
Well, that was certainly something.
“Are you alright?” Shadow asks, placing a hand on his shoulder.
In return, Sonic gives him his signature grin and wink. “Yup, never better! Say…when did you have twelve quills?” he replied, to which Shadow merely rolled his eyes. “Seriously, though, I’m fine, Shads. Thanks to you.”
For a moment, Shadow’s features softened into a smile. “Hmph. A little sunlight and you’re already almost done for.”
“Hey, that light show was psychedelic! Though, I’m still not sure what exactly Eggman was trying to achieve…eh, whatever. I'm feeling kinda pooped. Let's go home.”
“A visit to Tails’, then? It’d be best to see if the Doctor’s handiwork has any residual side effects.”
“Dang it. I hate it when you’re right about these things.”
Crossing his arms, Shadow stalks away from the wrecked base. “I’m always right.”
And Sonic has to jog to catch up. “Oh yeah? Remember the time when the first thing that you told the pizza guy was”—he put on his best obnoxious posh accent—“I am Shadow the Hedgehog, the Ultimate Lifeform—”
“Stop talking, hedgehog.”
“How is he?”
“Vitals are stable, no signs of roboticization…” Tails mutters, mostly to himself, staring at the information displayed on his Miles Electric. “He’s physically fine! Looks like you took out that machine of Eggman’s before it had a chance to do anything.”
“Sweet!” Sonic exclaims, tearing the sensors off himself. “Looks like Eggman’s scheme fell flat again.”
Tails frowns. “I dunno…Eggman tech is weird. There might be unforeseen side effects, like that time when you got warts. Lots and lots of warts.”
“Tails!” He huffs indignantly, staring at Shadow. His expression was fixed into something neutral, and yet Sonic has no doubt that he was planning twenty different ways to use this information for future arguments. “You were supposed to keep that under wraps!”
“Oh, right, sorry!” He chuckles. “Still, though, I’ll need more empirical evidence,” he said, setting the Miles Electric down on the table beside him. “If only I had a chance to examine the machine itself, then I could run some tests and collect data to get some sort of standard deviation…”
A smile dangles at the corner of his lips. “Sounds like you’re taking after Eggman there, buddy,” he says, planting his hands on his hips.
“Haha!” Tails rubs his head sheepishly. “I can’t really help myself, sometimes—this stuff’s fascinating! I’d love to get my hands on a sampling distribution…argh, I’m getting ahead of myself. Anyway, you should be in the clear! Just get some rest. And make sure to inform me if you have any symptoms or the like.”
“Sure thing! Thanks, Doc Prower.” He gives Tails a thumbs up before turning towards Shadow. “Race you to the house! Last one there’s a rotten Eggman!”
“Oh, for the love of—” he hears Shadow groan out before he’s left in the dust. Bet Shads’ expression right now is priceless.
With a grin on his face, he dashes past the evergreen trees, not dwelling on the fact that Eggman seemed to give up a little too easily.
Sonic stirs awake.
A part of his brain registers that he’s now lying on his bed, and that Shadow won their impromptu race. (He tripped on a branch and careened into a serrated cliffside. Probably not a good idea to run while dizzy.) There’s a bowl of steaming…something, a first aid kit, a wet towel— whoa, he’s got the whole sick person starter pack ready in seconds. He can totally do it in a faster time, though. Maybe.
“Honestly,” Sonic says, gaze drifting toward Shadow, who was busy sifting through and organizing the medicine storage box, “I didn’t expect you to be this good at this kinda stuff.”
“Hmph.” With a click, Shadow shut the lid of the box. “You are hardly the first sick person I’ve cared for. And I do prefer to win our races without the Doctor’s machinations interfering.” Placing a comforting hand on his chest, Shadow gives him a soft smile. “Rest. We wouldn’t want to aggravate your migraine or…” a smirk flashes across his face, “warts.”
Sonic groans. “You’re never gonna let me live that down, are you.” Shadow’s response—a simple “correct”— made him groan even more.
Soon, his gaze lands on the bowl once more. “What’s that?” he asks, head tilted toward the bowl.
“Chicken soup. My ‘migraine special’.” Shadow chuckles, its melodious quality caressing his ears. A sight for sore eyes, that wistful smile of his. “At least, that’s what they always used to say.”
“I don’t see how that’s gonna cure my headaches, though.”
“Somehow, I don’t doubt that.”
“Hey!” He playfully smacks Shadow in the arm, but doesn’t say anything else.
“Try it. You’ll see.”
Not wasting any time, he gingerly accepts the bowl from Shadow and takes a spoonful of soup.
“Whoa, it’s really good!” he exclaims. And it really is, warmth and flavour and heart packed into one delicious punch. He takes another scoop. Then another. Then two more.
“I’m glad you think so. Well, I won’t disturb your rest any longer. Get some sleep.” With that, Shadow got up from the bed and left the room, leaving him alone with this fragment of the past.
Sonic stirs awake. The bowl of soup is still in his hand.
Whoa. What...what just happened? Did he almost fall asleep while drinking the soup? Guess he really is tired. That invention of Eggy’s really did a number on me, huh? Drowsiness and a mild headache...Eggman probably counts that as a minor victory. Well, it’s nothing he hasn’t dealt with before.
His gaze drifts toward the window, staring at the myriad of flowers that dotted the lush green plains. Just imagining the feeling of wind brushing against his quills made him feel warmer, like a Flicky soaring through the blanket of clouds.
But maybe, just maybe, it’d be better if he stay cooped up for a few days. He’s been rushing from adventure to adventure for the past few weeks. Nothing wrong with laying low and partaking in something more…domestic. He could check up on some of his friends—he hasn’t dropped by Cream’s in a while…
Nah. Best if he just stays at home with Shadow. No need for him to bother them with his sickly self—no need for them to bother him, too.
He glanced at the digital clock—11:23—and helps himself to a spoonful of soup.
Sonic stirs awake.
The bowl he’s holding still has roughly the same amount of soup. The last thing he remembers is him taking a spoonful. Had he slept through a few minutes? Hours?
Wearily, he glances at the clock—11:24.
The realisation that he fell asleep for only a few seconds rings some alarm bells. His body is lethargic, yet his mind is racing. He’s taken a few power naps before—those were long, gruelling days of war with Eggman—but none this…short. Is he experiencing microsleep? He isn’t entirely sure of its causes, but he’s willing to bet his spines that “exposed to the lightbulb of a mad scientist” isn’t typically listed as one of them in those fancy medical pamphlets.
What the heck happened in those few seconds, anyway? He must’ve taken the spoonful of soup, that’s for certain, but…what else?
His mind draws a blank.
Of course he can’t remember. His brain probably wasn’t even registering those few seconds. Frowning, he shoves another spoonful of soup into his mouth, trying his best to push his thoughts aside.
“Mmm. Pass the blanket, will ya, Shads?”
The rest of the day had passed without any of the…weird stuff happening; the chicken soup might’ve taken a while to work its magic.
“Get it yourself,” Shadow mutters, but passes the blanket anyway. For that, he worms his head into the crook of Shadow’s neck. Just as a little treat. Shadow brings him closer, calloused fingers caressing the scars on his arms.
“Y’know, something odd happened to me this morning.”
Shadow hums, and Sonic can feel every minuscule vibration, every rise and fall of his chest.
“I—well, I was just sitting there idly and then the next thing I know, a few seconds have already passed by without me knowing.”
“Sounds like a textbook case of drowsiness to me.”
“Yeah, that’s what I thought, too, but…”
“Hm?”
“It feels different, somehow. A part of me is telling myself that I’m overly paranoid and that it’s fine, but…” he shook his head, sighing, “I dunno.”
Shadow sits up, now—and he feels a little annoyed that his roost of chest fluff is no longer there. His brows furrow. “...if you really feel that way, we should pay a visit to Tails now.”
He rolls over, body splayed over two-thirds of the bed. “Nah. He’s been pulling all-nighters upgrading his Miles Electric. Best if we don’t disturb him over something this small.”
Using his elbow, Sonic pushes himself so that he’s sitting upright. For some reason, the thought of…interfacing with Shadow in this condition is…rather disconcerting. And that itself is cause for worry. But…it’s normal, right? Their snuggling had a tendency to get…aggressive, typically ending with pillows strewn on the floor and blankets torn by their quills. That’d probably cause his headaches to flare up again.
(He wants to hold this moment, wants this moment to last like a shadow at dawn. But a part of him recoils, like an animal to a master’s boot.)
“Can you brew me some coffee? I…well…I dunno, I don’t really feel like sleeping now. I…” And Shadow is just staring at him, and guilt pangs in his chest. As he turns away from Shadow, he grips his shoulders tightly. “Sorry. I’ve been nothing but bothersome today.”
“It’s nothing,” he says, voice barely above a whisper, calloused hand gently nudging his chin so that they’re facing each other, “that you can be faulted for. But…” a subtle head tilt, “coffee?”
Sonic chuckles. “Can’t I take after the Ultimate Lifeform himself?”
Shadow’s ruby eyes darted away from him, letting out a soft “hmph”, though he doesn’t miss the way his chest puffed up a little at that. “Very well.” Tearing the blanket off of him, Shadow leaps off the bed. “I’ll be on the sofa downstairs the rest of the night.”
“What?” And there’s this indescribable feeling swallowing his heart whole, guilt and pride swirling into something that coalesces around his chest. Though, he isn’t sure whether Shadow’s doing this because he wants to let Sonic rest peacefully, or if they’re slowly drifting apart—what is he saying, it’s the former, of course. “You can’t do that—”
“And I am not allowed to take after you?” Dang it, got me there.
“Really,” Sonic says, splaying his hand over his chest, “of all of the exceptional and superior qualities that I have, you choose to take after that?”
“Your eating habits bring shame upon all hedgehog-kind,” Shadow says, very seriously. “But besides that, it’s not like I need the recharge, anyway.”
“So what? You gonna go brood downstairs now?”
“Absolutely not,” Shadow says, scowling. “I think I’ll catch up on that Chao book, which, need I remind you, got interrupted by someone asking for a duel with pool noodles.”
He gave him a wry smile. “That just means that I’m irresistible.”
There’s an expression on Shadow’s face that he can only describe as fond annoyance. “More like insufferable. Your coffee will be ready in a few minutes. Probably shouldn’t be doing this. That chilli dog you asked me to prepare probably did wonders to your well-being.”
Make…a chilli dog? What?
And with that, Shadow strides out of the room. The door creaks shut, and Sonic is left alone with his thoughts.
That’s odd. He doesn’t remember asking Shadow to make a chilli dog during the afternoon. Huh…now that he thinks about it, what did he do during that period of time, anyway? He calls out to his mind, trying his best to remember the past few hours.
The only thing that echoes back is an abyss.
His heart skips a beat.
Something….something’s wrong with me.
And then, his vision fills with light. Feels his grip on the mug loosening, and—
Sonic wakes up.
The mug shatters. Splinters fly in all directions. His mind’s a blur.
Sonic wakes up.
Coffee flows, like the reach of oblivion.
Sonic wakes up.
Footsteps. Hasty.
Sonic wakes up.
The light from the clock reads 19:30. When he shuts in eyes, the brightness is still there, lurking behind his eyelids.
Sonic wakes up.
The only thing in his head is a bright scream.
Sonic wakes up.
The only thing in his head is a bright scream.
Sonic wakes up, and wakes up, and wakes up.
Then, quiet settles, and he glances up, and Shadow is there, and he looks worried, and the lights are so blinding and he hears whispers and
Sonic wakes up.
“—everything alright?”
“I’m fine, Shads.” He thinks he feels fine, even though it's not. It’s warm, and it feels wrong . Like a cold flame crackling. A circle with finite sides. He gives Shadow a smile—the same one he gives to others whenever the situation is dire and all hope seems lost. At Shadow’s furrowed brows, he sighs. “Really. Thanks, by the way.”
Shadow looks like he wants to say more, but doesn’t, choosing to bite his lip instead. Striding over to the broom and dustpan standing dutifully in the corner, he says, “looks like I have to clean up this mess.”
“Sorry.”
“Don’t be. It’s my fault.” His gaze is downcast. “Should’ve known better than to give you a mug.”
“I’m not a kid anymore,” he said, crossing his arms and pouting.
“You’re… unwell. Honestly, you should see a doctor. And tell Tails about this whole thing while you’re at it.”
“I don’t need to tell anyone about anything!” he yells.
The silence that follows is palpable.
“I—I’m sorry. It’s just…I don’t feel that I should trouble anyone with this. Especially this late at night. I’m fine, Shads. I promise.”
Eventually, Shadow recovers from his wide-eyed expression. “I…I see. If you need anything, please don’t hesitate to inform me.”
Once more, Shadow leaves, and Sonic buries his head into his hands, feeling like he just made a terrible mistake.
… is there something wrong? Isn’t this how he’s always felt? Maybe he’s just tired. Yeah, that’s right…people always get a little grumpy whenever they’re tired.
He doesn’t need help from his friends. They’ll get in the way, anyway.
No no no no no! Take a huge step back, Sonic. This isn’t you. He’s not the type to push away those close to him like that. Especially not Tails and Shadow. What the heck’s going on? It’s as if he’s been infected with an autoimmune disease, except this one isn’t a disease and he’s acutely aware of every chunk of entrail scraped out of him.
Well, he thinks, perhaps out of cynicism, guess Tails is gonna get his data after all.
Okay. Think, think. Go over the events of this morning. He was…he was exposed to that thing for roughly a minute—probably less than that. Tails said he was fine physically—so that probably means that all this is something psychological. And some of his thoughts—it doesn’t feel like they should belong to him. It’s like a part of him is fighting against himself. It’s almost as if someone else is in…his…
…oh.
Oh, no.
His fur bristles. He knows, now.
He knows exactly what is going on, and is powerless to stop it.
Chaos, what am I saying!? Shads—I need to tell Shads—
And then it happens, and he crumples to the floor at the searing pain ringing in his head.
“Nowhere to run this time, Eggman!”
A soaring arrival.
“Always, Eggface. Anytime, anywhere.”
The song of soot and smoke.
“Oh, crap—thanks, Ames!”
Of revelries and—
—charred hotdogs.
Maybe he should ask Shadow what’s for dinner.
He and his friends—
such hateful, ignorant voices—
need to get help…from his friends…
Voices flood his mind. All is well. (No, it’s not!) It’s warm, comfortable, sterile. (It shouldn’t be, it shouldn’t be— )
Nngh…he won’t let this—this insanity become normality. This isn’t right. None of this is right.
But one voice out-deafens all eventually, when the voices commingle into a cacophonous choir that he knows well.
“Oh-ho-ho-ho! Whoever said that man couldn’t create god has never paid a visit to this doctor!”
“Witness, fools, for my boundless genius is that of a winged hierophany!”
“I’ve got all the technology at my disposal. It’s time for me to conquer this world!”
And his voice is so
Heavenly
grating.
He’s in his own body, yet he can’t do anything.
Strong black arms envelop him, holding him tight against his chest. He can feel and hear and see the heartbeats echoing, the ebb and flow of waves under his fur.
“Thank you.”
A smile. It’s a smile that can change the world.
And then, a moment of complete clarity. It’s less than silent. A whisper of the night. A part of him—shrinking, yet shrinking—gnaws away to fight. He feels as if water has submerged this room. For once, he is grateful for this feeling. His muscles start to relax, and he crawls up.
Was that…yet another side effect? That…probably means my tenure in my body’s ending real soon. He stands up, hands gripping his forehead as the world feels like it's going topsy-turvy once more. Heh. That’s…not funny. No time for that—seems like Shadow might’ve just made the process of whatever this is gradual. And he was exposed to the light too, if only briefly. What if—
Something curls up and dies in his stomach.
What if.
Sonic darts.
Need t-to…get Shads…
H-he’ll…get Tails…find a way to…fix this…!
He tries his best to not fall asleep again, clinging onto the one part of him that’s still resisting, that’s still free. C’mon…! All he has to do is warn Shadow about it. And then…
“Thank you, everyone! We’ve made a good future!”
Fighting against the soothing whispers caressing his chin, telling him that it’s all right, no need to bother them, he crawls toward the door, hands scrambling to find purchase on the doorknob—
He feels light crawling from behind him.
The door swings open—
He runs and he runs and he runs.
His vision gets blurrier and blurrier.
He’s almost at the end of the stairs—
His surroundings are fading.
—and the ground is warm and loud and hard.
Tries to get up. Crawls when his legs fail. Drags his body downstairs. Fingers dig into the tiles. Feels sunlight claw into his back in return. Mind reels trying to fight this foreign part of himself.
Shadow’s so close…
Light sears itself into his mind’s eye.
Just a little bit more…!
He dives—
And the maw of the cage slams shut.
The last thing Sonic truly feels is Shadow’s warmth.
“Sonic?!”
The world around him crumples.
“Shads…”
“I—what in the world—we need—”
The world around him
“—stay with—”
The world
Something stirs awake.
The room is brightly lit. A black figure fades into his view. Shadow. He looks concerned.
He puts a hand on his forehead. It’s warm.
Glancing around, he tries to get his bearings of his surroundings. A sofa, a coffee table, some hopelessly sentimental photographs—ah, right. Sonic’s home. His, and Shadow’s.
“I—are you feeling okay?” Shadow asks, concern evident in his quiet tone.
“I’m fine, Shadow,” he says, and means it, this time. He offers Shadow a smile, forced and plastic and beautiful. He has everything under control, and Shadow is his. Truly, with love’s universal gravitation, nothing is impossible.
For he knows, now. He has shed the veil of ignorance and knows that everything is, once again, all right. But how exactly did he come to realise that? Why, the answer to that is simple.
He knows because I know.