Chapter Text
CHAPTER 1: A TALE OF TWO ORPHANS
"It's six o'clock, Shadow! Time to get up!"
The ebon hedgehog groans softly and rolls over, pulling the sheets back over his head. Ever since the day he was created, Shadow the Hedgehog hasn't been a morning person. There were no mornings for the brief time they lived on the ARK and he'd still struggled to awaken after a dozen hours of sleep. Maria's constantly chipper morning attitude grated on him then, but now he's used to it.
Shadow hears the elderly woman bustle into his room but feigns sleep, swallowing a hiss of discomfort as she yanks the curtains open and bathes the room in blinding light. A second later and she sharply kicks the bed frame, cursing when she stubs her pinkie in the process. "For fuck's sake, get your behind in the shower before I throw you there, Shadow! You've got work in less than an hour!"
He huffs tiredly in response, which is enough to get Maria to limp to the kitchenette and start brewing a fresh coffee pot. Shadow doesn't know why she bothers with anything else to get him up; the scent of brewing grounds and hot, crispy bacon would always drag the ebon from slumber as it does this morning.
The promise of food and his favoured beverage wafting in the air, Shadow throws himself into a cold shower, shaking himself dry in the cubicle before stepping out. The method leaves his fur and quills in disarray but it's far more time efficient than blow dryers or air drying, plus saves on their already pricey utility bills.
He runs dark claws through the mess until clear bundles form then leaves satisfied, pulling on his work attire before heading to the kitchenette.
Their small apartment is clean but cluttered; a kitchenette with island counters and stools is squashed beside a front door and beyond that, a small living room is packed with cream furniture embroidered with delicate flowers. Maria has put her heart and soul into the place since they moved to Station Square just six months ago, sanding the wooden floors to reveal their original colour and painting the walls a cheerful pale yellow, bringing light to the boxy space.
Large viennese doors lead onto a sheltered balcony, which has become his Human sister's private art studio. Two less elaborate doors lead to Maria's bedroom and bathroom, complete with changing area and an ornate mirror - the only piece of furniture she saved from the old estate. Why a home has more bedroom space than living, Shadow will never understand, but regardless of the close quarters he likes their apartment and the life they're carving out anew.
Flopping down into a stool, Shadow flashes his fangs in a wide yawn. He doesn't notice the food and coffee his old housemate places before him until the scent of fat tickles his nostrils, quickly making the ebon's mouth water as he reaches for a fork. Maria has made eggs and toast as well, but Shadow is far too focused on his favourite part of the ensemble.
The crunchy, delicious bacon rashers.
"Thanks, MJ," he states and stabs a crispy rasher with so much gusto, it snaps. His fork no longer a viable utensil, Shadow returns it to the table and removes a glove, not at all phased by the heat or grease it leaves on his flesh. He bites the rasher delicately, savours the satisfying snap it makes a moment, then finally swallows. "If it weren't for you, I'd starve before my break."
Gerald never let them have bacon; he'd claimed it was too unhealthy, but that only made Shadow crave it more. His biology doesn't care whether he eats well or not, honestly the only benefit of being a government-sanctioned genetic experiment; he functions at peak performance by default and as such, extra calories and fat are burned rather than stored to keep his physique healthy.
If it weren't for the chunky inhibitors afixed to his wrists and ankles, the hybrid wouldn't eat at all. He agreed to wear the golden accessories as part of his relocation to the Professor's estate. The GUN Commander had been reluctant to allow an expensive and equally dangerous bioweapon amongst the general populace unencumbered, but Shadow doesn't hold it against him.
If I were in his place, I'd do the same.
Maria scoffs between bites of toast slathered in jam. "If it weren't for me, you'd have been fired in your first week," she chides. The human has obviously been awake a while. Her long, white hair is pulled back in a messy bun speared with a paintbrush - thankfully clean, unlike the last - and the kitchen is spotless besides the frying pan sizzling with hot fat. "What happened to the alarm clock I got you for Christmas?"
Just mentioning the noise device makes Shadow cringe. "It had an unfortunate, malicious accident involving my fist." He ignores her tired glare and wipes greasy fingers on his pants. The laundry rumbles quietly behind her bathroom door, bringing a calming white noise to the kitchenette. "Besides, being shocked from sleep isn't good for your health. The fact I punched it across the room upon waking supports that. Don't bother buying another one, okay?"
When the woman doesn't respond, Shadow glances up. She's standing behind the island with a hand splayed on the cool counter, eyes closed and a crease in her brow. It's an expression the hedgehog has seen hundreds of times and it sets him on edge, dark quills prickling as he places his mug back on the counter. "I can still call out," he states softly, watching more creases manifest between her eyes at the suggestion. "MJ, do you-"
"I'm fine," she whispers, not convincing to either of them. Her health has always been terrible. Even with her NIDS cured by Shadow's DNA and continued infusion treatment, Maria remained fragile, prone to anaemia and low blood pressure, sugar dips and associated fatigue. Dizzy spells are a common precursor to fainting neither of them can ignore. "I just need a rest. It's been a busy morning."
If you let me help with the chores, it'd be easier.
Due to her delicate health, the hedgehog refuses to let his elderly sister get a job or help with bills. Maria wouldn't have let that stop her if she had her way, but Shadow saw her as too fragile to risk the repeated physical, mental or stressful demands of a regular job. This left the human to fall into the stereotypical 50's housewife role; cooking and cleaning while her adoptive brother paid the bills.
Despite outward appearances and carefully curated outer appearance, Maria Juliet Robotnik is not the classy lady most assumed of her when alone with her brother. With a plethora of foul-mouthed and often crass soldiers giving her candy and piggy-back rides during their time living at GUN Headquarters, Maria learned a lot of new words that would have turned Gerald tomato red with anger, but her heated tongue only made Shadow love her lust for life.
Maria would never admit to needing help, that much the hedgehog is certain off. Accused of overworking herself or told to rest, the stubborn girl would do the exact opposite. Shadow knows that from experience. So instead of trying to take control of a situation he'll inadvertently worsen, he crunches the last of his bacon, silently brings his vacated stool around the counter and helps her sit without a word.
While she rests, Shadow makes the woman a cup of tea - chamomile to avoid caffeine - and slides the steaming mug into her hand.. "I'll keep my phone on," he states, content to receive a gentle nod in acknowledgement. He's never been so glad to live so close to work. Gloves returned, he tucks some loose hairs behind an ear before he gently pecks her on the temple. "Rouge won't mind if I duck out for a few minutes. Call if you need anything."
Maria groans softly, not happy but unable to form a valid objection. "Fine… but I'm still making dinner."
Shadow smiles kindly. "I look forward to it," he says, fully intending to grab take-out. She'll be pissed for half an hour or so, but as soon as sweet and sour sauce touches her lips she'll be back to her old self in moments. As such, the brief irritation and potential silent treatment is well worth it. "I'll call when I'm done. Drink up, before it goes cold."
Without looking back to see if she's giving him the finger for telling her what to do, Shadow necks his coffee, snags a piece of toast and pinches it between his teeth to grab his keys. With a glance at the clock and an adrenaline rush seeing it's just five to seven, Shadow's curse is muffled by the soggy bread as he exits the flat and rapidly takes the external, creaking metal stairs to the street below.
Maria Juliet Robitnik has never been healthy. Born with Neuro Immune Deficiency Syndrome, a rare genetic illness that compromised the immune system that leads to pain, fatigue and uncontrolled inflammation in neurons, Maria was lucky to have a scientist grandfather able to develop a treatment. Hundreds of others in the family succumbed in childhood, and Maria made it to thirteen, but Gerald was not content with half a life for his granddaughter.
With excessive funding from GUN, genetic donations from questionable sources and years to fine-tune his approach, the man achieved the impossible. He made life capable of producing bone marrow compatible with Human tissues. Shadow hadn't known any of this when he submitted to surgery, which was invasive and arguably dangerous for all involved, but he'd woken to learn he saved a girl's life and in return, her family were willing to adopt him.
He hadn't known what it meant, but it sounded nice.
Maria and Gerald had shown the former experiment how enjoyable life could be when not under a microscope even limited by Maria's ailing health. The Professor had a large, private estate in the country that allowed the odd family to go on picnics, fishing and nature walks without concern for exterior stressors, microbe bearers and other potential threats to his adoptive sister's newfound freedoms.
The elderly Professor would go to the store at most every other week to refill their canned goods, dry food and once they got one, freezer space with vegetables and meat. The maids, contractors and anyone else who needed to come onto the property knew to maintain their hygiene and call out if they got sick, keeping Maria safe from critical illness.
On the last Friday of the month, they'd leave Maria in the care of a trusted neighbour and travel to the city. Gerald would get groceries, sundries and the mundane items that were hard to come by in the country. They'd once gone without a lawn mower for the entire month because the old, gas-powered antique broke days after their trip, which let the grass grow up to Shadow's hips and became a task and a half to cull.
Gerald started keeping spares of important things after that, especially food and plumbing components.
Meanwhile, Shadow attended a Guardian Unit of Nations base in the desert to the south-east of the city, undergoing the usual exhaustive tests, samples and studies he agreed on when discharged into the Robotnik household. With up to a gallon of blood missing, skin or organ samples taken and having endured a strenuous physical exam, Shadow would frequently pass out during the long drive home and wake tucked onto his bed with Maria sleeping beside him.
As time passed, the experiments got less invasive and the physical trials less intense. With few statistically relevant changes in biology, endurance or medical applications for the data and samples, Commander Towers had ordered it be cut to minimal requirements until further notice. Just a blood, some tissue and general vitals taken unless stocks used to make medical treatments were running low.
The monthly visits continued, but no longer shackled with up to a week for recovery and feeling healthier than ever, Shadow and Maria had begun to explore the gardens and surrounding woodland alone. The once exhausted children became vivacious, explorative and developed quite strong personalities as they entered young adulthood, traits that only matured and strengthened with continued age.
Somewhere along the line, his sister decided to scrap her Christian name in favour of her initials, "MJ." Both her Grandfather and brother agreed it suited her.
They'd lived isolated in the country for almost forty years when, suddenly and devastatingly, Gerald suffered a fatal stroke caused by an aneurysm. If his death wasn't enough of a shock, the pair who'd lived their entire lives as free as children on the estate became the owners of a large and degraded country mansion Shadow's meagre earnings as a lab rat couldn't hope to cover.
It hadn't taken much to decide they should sell the estate and move to the city, where Shadow would be close to his only source of income. The estate sold for far less than it should have due to their imminent need to move out and the home's poor condition, but it was enough to get them to Station Square, buy them a small apartment and leave a nest egg to live off for at least five years.
Not content to watch their money wither away and seeing the effect financial worries had on his aging sister, Shadow had decided to get a job. The coffee shop directly below their apartment had been hiring and the bat who owned it had been enthused to be hiring an "adult with taste." He'd gotten the job almost instantly after whipping up the drink she requested with efficiency, his caffeine addiction finally paying off.
MJ had offered to do the same, but the ebon had refused. What resulted was a short, heated argument about her health that concluded only when Shadow agreed to let her sell her paintings. She continues to produce work on good days and with a bit of bargaining, Shadow increased their supplementary income by convincing Rouge to sell some of her contemporary pieces through the cafe.
In short, they're financially comfortable, but Shadow isn't coping with the changes as well as he pretends to.
The iris scanner on the door starts sluggishly. Shadow can see the time clock above the digital reader counting down to seven oclock, taunting him as it nears. There's just three seconds left when the device finally whirrs and checks his data against internal records. Finding a match in its banks it simultaneously unlocks the door and clocks Shadow in three seconds late, though so little Rouge won't care.
Resisting the urge to slam his fist into the dodgy tech for making him late, Shadow instead pushes inside the coffee shop directly below his attic flat, flicks the deadbolt to prevent any early birds coming in before seven-thirty and once adorned with his brown barista apron, Shadow gets to work.
Almost immediately, the familiar routine and scents of brewing coffee, pastries set to cool on the racks and solitude soothe his irritation to a basal exhaustion Shadow has become used to. He drifts to each job mindlessly, his attention back at the flat and his adoptive sister's second turn in a week.
The stress of living in the city, as well as Maria's worsening health, are a constant drain on energy Shadow can't seem to overcome. Every monthly visit to GUN HQ to donate blood or tissue, endure biomechanical tests and generally get poked and prodded is stressful, but his last remaining family under threat? That affects him far more potently.
A knock on the door draws Shadow from his ruminations and back to reality. He knows who it is before looking, the cheerful azure hedgehog that visits every day at open time for his tall, caffeinated frosty beverage with enough sugar to kill a small elephant waving animatedly before a tap of his communicator prompts Shadow to check the clock.
07:30, right on time as always.
With a soft huff of amusement, the ebon finished stocking the pasty display first, leisurely tucking the bakery goods into the display baskets for the most pleasing array while the hedgehog outside taps his foot impatiently. When he does get around to the door Sonic is on the phone, talking rapidly with a bodiless entity as he gives Shadow a silent thumbs up and steps inside the store.
"Uh huh," he agrees blandly while the barista turns on the open sign and props the door open, enjoying the morning chill in his fur a moment before returning to the warmth of the shop. Sonic has paused by the service station, eyes on the menu even though he'll order the same monstrosity he always does. "Like I said Sal, I'm busy today. You gave me a day off and I made plans. Book 'em in for another date."
Shadow gets to making his drink; a half-shot caramel latte with two pumps of extra syrup, fresh cream and a dash of chocolate drizzle. It sounds disgusting to the barista, who likes straight black with only the slightest sweetness, but he makes it near-perfect regardless, an ear on his regular customer's conversation without meaning to when Sonic sounds irate. "I don't care who he is, I'm busy. He'll have to wait. I'm turning my phone off now, okay? Talk tomorrow."
With a dusting of cocoa and a straw to wrap up as his call finishes, Shadow slides his drink across the counter with a flourish. The azure catches without looking as he follows through and turns off his phone, the famous Hero's world renowned speed at work in his reflexes. He takes a casual sip of the beverage and smacks his lips, tucking his phone away with a wide smile. "Nice, Shads. Perfect as always!"
"Got a gig?" The ebon asks. He cleans his equipment with a brow raised at Sonic over a shoulder, but when the azure cringes they knit into a frown. "Not a client you're fond of? You could always say no."
Sonic waves off his concern with a lighthearted chuckle. "I just want a day off, you know?" He takes another long sip of his 'coffee' before pointing the paper straw at Shadow. "You get it, right? Working here five days a week, Fridays must be your favourite day! Couple of days off to relax, get some sleep, catch up on your favourite shows…"
The barista hums noncommittally. His weekends usually entailed visiting GUN HQ for Maria's treatments, donating more cells, blood or marrow to replenish stocks or stays in hospital. They don't even own a television, let alone keep up with modern shows or pop culture. Hell, he hasn't even read a book in over three months because given any down time, Shadow usually opted to catch up on sleep.
"Hellooo, Mobius to Shads!"
Caught lost in his own thoughts again, Shadow's ears fold back as a tired glare touches his features. Rather than feel intimidated though, Sonic chuckles and places his drink on the service station. Shadow tries not to focus on the ring of moisture he's going to have to wipe and suppresses the urge to bare his fangs in affront. "What is it, hedgehog? I'm busy. If you're just going to irritate me I'll-"
"Hey, easy on the threats!" The azure chuckles, obviously unaware of Shadow's capabilities should he endeavour to inflict pain and discomfort. The barista takes a breath and silently reminds himself to calm down, looking away from Sonic even as he continues. "Like I said, I gotta go. There's a girl I gotta see about a thing. But we're cool, yeah?"
Shadow huffs and stacks the now cooled pastry trays in the dishwasher. "Sure," he agrees absently, not seeing the bright smile that cracked the azure's muzzle. "We're cool."
"Nice!" Sonic snatches up his drink and heads for the door, somehow able to put even more energy in his step now. "I got a function at ten with the mayor, but then I'm free. You can come as my plus one, or I can pick you up after, if you want. Just let me know! I left my number on the counter!"
The words don't register until Sonic is already gone, the obnoxious jingle of the door opening all that remains of his prior guest when he snaps up straight and stares after the Hero. Ruby eyes stray to the counter, where a business card adorned with gaudy depictions of Chaos Emeralds glistens, a laminate glory against the faux-wood veneer in a way that only amplifies Shadow's sudden nausea.
What the hell did I just agree to?