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Shadow stood frozen at the entrance of the vast, empty room that expanded beyond the four corners of his vision. His gaze was locked on the far window before them, stretching from the floor to the ceiling, and along the whole side of the wall. The only illumination came from the faint ethereal glow that radiated off the Earth, bathing them in a soft ghostly light.
Everything that transpired in the minutes and hours before disappeared from his mind. The reason for him being there was momentarily gone. He was transfixed as a brief wave of remembrance hit him and left. A thousand images and yet there was nothing. A hundred conversations but no words said. A few dozen people and no one.
Shadow’s mouth hung slightly agape as he took in such a melancholic, lonesome sensation of this room. No sound could be heard outside of himself. If anything, he expected any sound would be swallowed up in this dead space. He could only hear the heart pounding within, the blood in his ears. The air was a bit chilled, but motionless, with a faint scent of dust.
His throat and chest tightened. A swirl of vague emotions and memories raged inside, but he couldn’t understand them. Everything in this room at this moment was different. He knew this room like the back of his frozen hand, but the small differences made everything about it foreign to him. The still air, without the air circulation. The missing hum from the vents. The off-white fluorescents that bordered the ceiling were off, so the warm glow was now replaced with a cold darkness. And the amount of space here–it felt so much larger without a young blonde girl relaxing at the sill, beckoning him to come join her.
Long ago, he wouldn’t have noticed these things about the room, but standing there now, absent of all of it, it never felt so quiet, lonely.
Everything was… dead. And it wasn’t a sort of peaceful death–it was like a ghost, waiting for closure before passing on. Gooseflesh rose beneath his ghost-lit fur. This feeling. Walking within the ship, in the body of a ghost, stuck in the memory of a traumatic passing and left alone, waiting and grieving… he felt he was unwelcome here.
Even more so when he suffered the same grief and hurt, and used the ship’s weary spirit against humanity not long ago. He betrayed his wishes and promises to a beautiful world.
Shadow couldn’t bring himself to move. His eyes stung, threatening a tear to fall. He shivered and blinked the moisture away. He could almost hear a voice somewhere chastising him, crying and shouting at him to turn around and leave. Cursing his name. The hiccups breaking the cries. His breath hitched involuntarily.
Just then did he realize a weight in his arms on his side. He looked down and saw a cardboard box under his arms, almost full of vinyl records, books, battered folders of loose-leaf paper. Other assortments of trinkets and collectibles. All his. Oh, right. I’m still doing this.
He looked off to the right, and saw the silhouette of a grand piano standing tall at the far side. Seeing it, time came to a stop. Though the room all around him was heavy, the sight of the piano lifted the atmosphere in its vicinity. It was strong enough to pull his legs closer to it despite the uneasiness. Before he knew it, his feet made their way to the beloved instrument.
“Whoa, I almost forgot how big this room is.” Shadow turned toward the source of the voice, which was the blue hedgehog, also carrying a full box. Sonic spun around slowly, taking in the room. “It’s a lot quieter too.”
Shadow didn’t respond, but turned back to the piano and set the box down before the bench. His mind was elsewhere.
Oh, right. He’s here too.
Upon hearing Sonic’s voice echo off the walls and seeing his frame washed with the earthly glow, the first moment that led them here became clear again: The blue hedgehog accompanied him here on the ARK. Again. And against Shadow’s insistence to come here alone and the attempts to turn Sonic’s self-invited presence away. In case he had forgotten, Sonic was naturally insistent too. And a bit annoying at it. He recalled their conversation just hours ago that took place miles below on the Earth’s surface. He furrowed his brows to remember how their encounter started, but all he could bring up was around the end of their talk. He remembered the words exchanged, and, even more importantly, Sonic’s face.
“No,” Shadow said again, and tried verbally pushing the persistent hedgehog away. It was early evening, and the sun started its downward path to the ocean’s horizon. They were at a cliff that overlooked the waters, walking briskly along the edge of it; Shadow in front, Sonic right behind.
“Ah, Shadow, don’t be like that,” Sonic whined, smiling. “We haven’t hung out in a while.”
“We have never ‘hung out,’ hedgehog. "Stop twisting the truth to get whatever you want."
"Peh,” Sonic comically spat, “maybe not your version of ‘hanging out.’ Either way, you probably need extra hands getting everything.”
Shadow stopped and turned to Sonic, who stopped right behind. Sonic’s eyes were animated, slightly narrowed, and his lips held a smirk. A dull headache started throbbing behind Shadow’s eyes as he studied his counterpart some more.
“And what’s in it for you?”
“Huh?” Sonic’s smugness died away, and confusion replaced his features.
“What do you want out of this? Helping me get my things?” He lifted his hands questioningly. Sonic furrowed his brows.
In exasperation, he crossed his arms and looked into the purpling sky. Chaos’ sake. “If you’re thinking of roping me in any of your favors, forget it. I’m not pulling you out of the shit you get yourself into.” Then he turned and kept walking, pulling a white Chaos Emerald out from his quills before Sonic could catch up or get another word in. His headache was slowly worsening, as was his irritation with the hedgehog.
“Oh, pfft,” Sonic said, catching up to Shadow, “you know what’s not how I work.”
“Or a race–-whatever it is, I don’t want it. I’m doing this alone, you’re not coming with me.”
“I–-well, I won’t say no to a race, but–-”
“But nothing. I’m leaving.” Shadow stopped several feet away from him and brought the Emerald up to teleport away. Then he stopped his efforts when Sonic grabbed his wrist.
“Shadow, I want to help you, no strings attached. I know you’ll probably need it. It’s no different than me helping Tails with something, or Amy, or Knuckles, or any of my other friends.”
Shadow narrowed his eyes at him. He wanted to pull away but Sonic’s expression stopped him. It wasn’t playful stubbornness anymore, it was determination. Unfaltering resolve..
He didn’t let his confusion of this hedgehog’s attitude show. What’s with him? Why is he so interested in making a stop at the ARK with me to get my things? There’s nothing interesting about it. And–
Is he also insinuating that we’re “friends”?
His gaze stayed on Sonic’s face for another moment before speaking again. “You use the term ‘friend’ too loosely. We barely even talked since everything happened. You don’t go around throwing your efforts around for someone you barely even know.”
Sonic smiled. “Well, I guess you don’t know me very well.”
Shadow raised his brows, confirming what he just said. “Clearly. Let go of my arm.” He jerked his arm some, but Sonic didn’t budge. There wasn’t much effort from either side to move away or let go.
“Just listen to me for a sec.” Shadow said nothing, keeping his eyes on emerald ones.
“Okay, yeah, maybe I don’t know you that well. But I know that even though you want to go up there alone, I don’t think you should.”
They stayed silent for a minute, the cooled ocean wind blowing across their bodies and distant autumn leaves. Sonic’s face was still set in that hardened expression. As if his insistence in helping him was about something bigger. Like it wasn’t about simply getting Shadow’s belongings. And maybe it wasn’t just that…
And that’s the reason I don’t want anyone, he thought, especially him, to come with me. Does he think I’ll break when I get up there now that I have my memories back? Does he think I need someone to comfort me? I’m not going to break, and even if I do, I don’t want people to feel sorry for me.
But… why does he feel he should help me?
He focused back on Sonic’s resolute eyes, emerald irises reflecting off the pink and golden sunset. His jaw was set, and though his posture was more relaxed, he stood very still. So unlike what Shadow was used to seeing from him: animated, constantly in motion. Energetic.
He took a deep breath through his throat that tightened at some point. His headache started pounding behind his eyes. He was tired, and his migraine certainly wasn’t making this easy. Even if I don’t let him come, he’ll probably find a way to get there anyway. For some reason… He let out a long, exhausted exhale through his nose. Hope to Chaos I’m not making a mistake…
He faced forward but kept Sonic in his sight. The Emerald glowed brighter in his hand from the anticipation of energy swirling within. Then he gave the familiar command.
“Chaos Control!”
Their forms brightened as well as the space around them, overpowering the light from the sun for a brief moment, before disappearing. The only thing left behind on the cliffside was the final thought from the disgruntled hybrid:
I hope this damn migraine goes away.
Shadow brought his focus back to the present, in the dark room with the window.
Shadow’s distant gaze was still on Sonic, who was facing the other direction and standing thirty feet away with the full cardboard box in his arms.
And to follow up on that thought, no, the migraine didn’t go away. But it was momentarily forgotten until Sonic spoke up a moment ago, guffawing at the room.
Sonic turned to Shadow, spotting the piano. He cocked his head. “I don’t remember seeing that piano when we were here last.”
Shadow brushed his gloved hand over the closed lid, wiping a thin layer of dust off. “We weren’t in this room,” he responded distantly, “There are three open rooms like the one we were in with a window overlooking the planet, and they all look similar.”
Sonic hummed, looking around some more, while Shadow’s mind continued to wander. He was unsure of what to think about, so his mind filled it in for him. Images of the past few minutes and hours in here replayed in his mind’s eye. He wasn’t sure how long he’d been here at the ARK. Three hours, at least; probably longer. That time was spent traversing the maze of hallways to the desired rooms; Sonic talking; going through his bookshelves; Sonic asking him if he wanted everything he touched individually; Shadow going through his albums, notes, films, memorabilia; Sonic guffawing at the parts of the Colony that he hadn’t seen.
The last three hours–or however long they’d been there– was a blur. He knew he felt distant from everything. He still felt that way, like he wasn’t really in his body. This experience of going through his things was so surreal. All the books he used to read, records he spun on the gramophone, the kitchen gadgets–-and by extension, other gadgets–-he’d grown up with; it felt like yesterday that he’d seen these things. But they were all sitting here, forgotten for over fifty years.
Heh. I guess it might as well have been yesterday, he thought when he was in one of the previous rooms. His room, to be specific. The notion of the fifty year gap didn’t fully sink in until he saw the once vibrant cactus sitting on the window sill, now a long gone flattened corpse in dry soil. The small light fixture above was broken for some time, and no one watered it. Of course no one did, he thought while looking at it, no one has been here for years.
He remembered staring at the pile of dirt in the pot, contemplating this. A cactus doesn’t require much care. It will take a while before it shows signs of illness, and some more time for it to fully die and decay completely… I can’t even comprehend this…
And here he was now, still unable to understand the half-century gap of his awareness. He couldn’t understand the darkness or emptiness of this place he used to call home.
He couldn’t get over how quiet this room was. Or shake the feeling of being…out of place. This was his home for all his life. He knew the layout of the ship. Knew the shortcuts. Where everyone’s quarters were. How fast he would go sliding down the halls in his socks. The afternoons he spent in the botanical sanctuary with a book. Staying up late with his sister laying on the floor by the newest turntable, swinging their feet in the air. Watching Disney films that the Professor brought just for her, and, by proximity, Shadow too.
He was right at home, again. He knew it. But he felt so disconnected to it all. Maybe it was the most recent bout of amnesia after his fall. Or his memory being manipulated before that. All he knew was that almost everything down to his memories came rushing back. But his heart was distant from them. His emotions surrounding them were absent; those memories may as well not have happened at all.
Maria…He could see her face now behind his eyes. Her fair blonde hair framing her cheeks. Her skin, pale from her sickness. Eyes as blue as the Earth’s oceans. Her thin glossed lips, everyday trying to smile. He knew as head-knowledge that she was like an older sister to him. They did almost everything together, and she was one of the few onboard that treated him like another person. They shared their dreams for the future, their silly moments and the dark thoughts that crept in their young minds. They loved each other like family. Unconditionally. He knew that when he would think of her, he would only think of the familial love he had for her, and how much she brightened his days.
But it was gone now. All of it.
It was as if a glass barrier blocked him from reaching out, remembering that connection. And it mocked him.
If you had kept your promise to her when you first woke up, this wouldn’t have happened.
“--adow?”
A rogue hand touched Shadow’s shoulder and he tensed his muscles at the contact. The spiraling stopped.
“What,” he choked, failing to hide the hurt in his voice.
Sonic returned his hand underneath the box, the trace of contact tingling beneath his shoulder. “Sorry, you just spaced out for a minute there. Is there anything in here that you wanted? Because this room seems empty. Besides the piano.”
The dark hedgehog didn’t respond. His eyes moistened. He took a shuddered breath and rubbed his hands down his face, trying to wipe away the emotional exhaustion.
God, I really just want to be alone right now.
“We’re not taking the piano, Shads,” Sonic said in an amused tone.
“Tsk.”
“Shads”…?
I’m too tired for this, Sonic, he thought, please go away.
Then an idea hit him. He looked up from his hands and slightly turned to partially face his counterpart. I hope he doesn’t see my eyes water. Or that my voice doesn’t choke up.
“Actually, there is something you could get for me.” His eyes moved to the exit, and he nodded in it’s direction. “There’s a room three doors down to the left, it’s where the Professor kept most of his music collection. There’s a series of records from Layton and Johnstone, Al Bowlly, and Roger Williams. It’s all alphabetically organized, could you get them?”
“Oh!” Sonic’s eyes widened, a little surprised, and turned toward the exit.” Yeah… sure.”
“You can just set the box down over here by mine.”
“Alright.” He set the box down and placed his hands on his hips when he fully stood. “So you said…Layton and Johnson, Al…Bowlly? And Roger Williams? Right?”
“Yes. Third door on the left.”
“Ok got it.” Sonic gave a thumbs up and speed-walked to the exit, disappearing behind the corner. Then his face peeked back in. “Do you need help with anything in here?”
“Nothing, I’ll be alright.”
“I don’t see anything else in here besides the piano. Can you even teleport that to Earth with Chaos Control?”
Shadow’s face narrowed toward him. “Just get the records, hedgehog.”
“You got it, Shad.” He disappeared again.
Another nickname. “Shad.”
Then he was alone. The blue hedgehog’s voice stopped ringing off the walls.
Shadow didn’t know what to think anymore. His mind stopped reeling when that hedgehog spoke, which he was glad for. But he knew he needed this moment to think things over. And Sonic disrupting his train of thought set him back.
Damn it all. He wiped his hand down his face again and walked toward the window. His form was completely bathed in blue light, and his eyes reflected the millions of stars. “Hello,” they seemed to say, “nice to see you again.”
“Where’s the girl?”
To answer them, the red lights and blaring alarms flashed through his mind in recollection. He tried to fight the resurfacing memory, but he closed his eyes and rested his head on the cool glass, giving in.
He couldn’t think straight. He couldn’t string the events together. Everything that happened the day the ARK was raided was a blur. A series of flashing lights. Screaming alarms. Echoing gunshots. People running down halls. The one sure thing that was cohesive was his hand in Maria’s, hurrying away from the fray to the escape room. He remembered being closed in, safe, in the glass encasement, ready to be ejected from the danger. He remembered the events that folded within the last minute on that ship long ago. She promised him she’d be right behind him to be ejected. That the men with the guns wouldn’t catch them until it was too late. She stood at the controls ready to send him away…
Then the men appeared at the door.
She was given a choice. And she chose to let Shadow live through pulling the lever.
And was killed as a result.
Those moments played back to him like flashes. Maria’s hand on the lever, up. Down. A muffled but loud bang with blood. Lots of blood. Maria on the floor. Maria facing him, dying. Her eyes, full of pain, fear, and confidence. Her last words through the speakers of the glass barrier. Then–
Nothing.
Nothing but fire. Nothing but his lungs burning as he screamed her name and his anguish to only be blocked by the glass. Nothing but the ever-growing brightness of the Earth coming near, and not registering. And–-
And then–-
And now–-
And now he was here.
Now he was here alone. By the expansive window–the window where Maria was supposed to be standing behind, with him, watching the clouds swirl below and the continents move along. And still, after those moments came and went from his mind, the feeling was not there. His sister. The one he loved and cherished most, turned into a bloodied pile on the floor, and left with him unable to stop it…
And now he didn’t feel a thing.
It was like a film reel. One that jumped to important moments, glitchy and in black and white, and on a screen. Not real. But it happened. It did… and he knew it should affect him in some way at least, if not in the most brutal way possible. But there was nothing.
“Where’s the girl?”
He opened his eyes again, staring at his shoes and the dark floor. She’s not here.
His chest tightened at the thought. She’s not here. Not “she’s dead,” or “she’s gone.” She just wasn’t there. That was all the stars far away needed to know. It wasn’t like they hadn’t been watching them grow up, grow close, watch them back, and then die and leave them. The stars weren’t ignorant of them. They witnessed the whole thing. And Shadow had the gall to say that Maria was simply not there. And he hated himself for saying it–but it was the truth, to him. She just wasn’t there.
Not real.
His eyes stung and watered. No. She couldn’t be disrespected like that. She was very much real. It just… didn’t feel like that. She was real…
"Wasn’t real enough for you, clearly."
To this, Shadow couldn’t give a response. He couldn’t defend himself anymore. They were right, partly. It all came down to what he did after waking up. He betrayed her, and now, as payment for his actions, his emotional memories of his past were gone. And that was more painful than having no memory of it at all. Just the memory of every important face as a reminder of what he’d done, and what could’ve been if he didn’t betray them.
He choked a sob and brought up his hand up to his throat to soothe it. A lone tear fell down his muzzle and hung at his jaw.
Drip.
No more words could form in his mind. Just raw emotion that flooded his body from his overflowing heart that cracked at the seams.
Maria…she didn’t deserve this. She didn’t deserve to be killed like that. And she doesn’t deserve to be forgotten by the one closest to her. And yet here I am. And all I say is she isn’t here.
Drip.
He sniffled, wiped his eyes, and looked at the moisture on his hand. He studied the tear’s glowing shine from the Earth. What the hell am I even crying for? His eyes flowed again, and he wiped them away with his other hand. He lifted his head to look at the Earth, mind silent for a moment once again. He wasn’t sure what he was feeling. He didn’t know why his chest was so tight, his breathing pathways blocked, or why his face was hot and shedding tears the way it was. He knew he should grieve for her death and the fates of everyone on here before. Perhaps he should feel guilt and shame for being the only one to make it out alive. He should miss her. He should feel a little bit of safety and security being in the familiarity of this ship, his home… but…
He turned his gaze toward the surface of the glass to his right, no longer on the planet, but to the space of the girl’s missing reflection, where he knew it should be. His mind filled the space for him. Her frame, a translucent reflection off the glass, fading in and out. Taking him back to the past and returning to the present again and again.
His imagination of her reflection faded, never returning. His heart sank.
Regret. That’s what it was. Regret for his actions that led to his misremembering. Regret and shame that he didn’t remember what they had. Not mourning or grief. And he hated himself for it.
As he continued staring at the empty glass, he felt a chilled sort of presence envelop him, as if the ghosts wrapped their claws around his head to induce his mental spiraling. He sniffled again, closed his eyes, and rested his head on the cool glass. His head and heart were swimming, trying to keep their heads above the waters among the storm within. Voices swarmed around him, incomprehensible, but he could feel their bite.
He took in a shuddering breath, his throat and lungs burning from the blocked pathways. Then he opened his mouth slightly, and said in the quietest of whispers:
“...I’m sorry…”
The cold fingers retracted some, and a bit of warmth rose from inside him. With another breath, he said again with a shaky voice. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry…”
He wasn’t entirely sure what he apologized for, or to who specifically. He hated himself for that too. But he meant it, and that was all he could say in his choked state.
And the spirits must’ve accepted it, as their hands disappeared from his body, and the storm inside him quelled over the next few minutes until there was only light rain and rocky waves of the ocean. He opened his eyes at the alleviation, seeing his feet through blurry vision.
Then the room was stilled again. He was finally able to take a deeper breath. He looked back out at the expanse of space again, wiping his eyes. The stars were silent too. As if his internal distress never even happened. He looked at the surface of the glass again where he imagined Maria’s reflection. She was there, briefly. She gave him a small smile before disappearing again, only for him to lock eyes with another reflection: the blue glow from the piano.
He looked behind him at the instrument. It still sat there, untouched, and it still invited him to it.
Perhaps I could…one last time…
* * *
Sonic didn’t expect what he’d see upon opening the door. What welcomed him instead of crates of records, record players, instruments, or anything of the sort, was a typical bedroom. A twin cot at the back of the room on the right side, a bookshelf of a few narrow books, a desk mostly empty besides a small stack of papers, and a chest opposite the bed.
That’s weird… he said the third door on the left, right?
He felt it in his feet that he should move on to the next one down the hall, but he stayed frozen. It was clearly a kid’s room. The bed was maybe even smaller than a twin, and there wasn’t anything here that indicated that it belonged to an adult human. He walked in before he could stop himself, moving to the desk on the left, then looked behind him to the other furnishings. The bookshelf–-really a makeshift metallic shelf from supplies he saw in storage–-was mostly bare. Maybe ten thin books, all fallen over. There were no blankets or normal sheets on the bed, but a larger white drape tucked over the whole surface, like those he saw at hospitals. The windows didn’t have curtains to block the Earth’s or Sun’s glow. No pictures hanging on the metal walls.
There was, however, a door that hung slightly ajar directly behind him. A closet, maybe. He moved to that door, pulling it open, revealing an empty rack and shelf above, and no shoes on the floor. He furrowed his brows.
… Whose room was this…?
He turned back to the desk, absentmindedly swiping his hand over the surface and picked up the stack of pages, examining it. The top page was full of drawings of flowers. A daisy. Rose. He found a lone butterfly up on the corner. A bunch of other doodles. And a note on the side in beautiful cursive: “Remember, we’re watching Pinocchio tomorrow! –M.”
M? Wait,
Is this–?
To further confirm his convictions, he shuffled to the next page. The next looked to be a report, with Shadow’s name being the subject. A physical for an examination, signed by a “W.T.” He shuffled to the next. Again, with Shadow at the header, but it was a written note in very slanted cursive that he couldn’t read.
Is this… Shadow’s room?
He looked over to the rest of the room.
Furrowing his brow, he walked further into the room, closer to the bed. To the right of it, was a small night stand, empty, except for two silver bands sitting on top, small enough to fit his own wrists.
Yeah, this is Shadow’s old room. But Shadow was already there before–
Wait…did he have two rooms?
He picked up one of the silver rings, examining it up close. Were these Shadow’s old versions of the ones he wore around his wrists now? Older inhibitor rings?
He looked out at the door, expecting Shadow to come in any second. He mentally face-palmed once seeing it closed because it was automatic, and risked spending another minute or two in there, looking back at the elongated reflections of the lights and his vague reflection on the silver ring. Even with the limited time before Shadow might let himself be known outside, he let his mind wander.
Images of the last few hours passed through his mind. The numerous trips to the storage room for more boxes. The extended amount of time in the library, rifling through the shelves of old books. Shadow had given him a list of what he wanted from there, as well as other places, and they split off after instructions of how to get there. He had visited the library first, the lights automatically turning on with some effort. What he saw, while it did look like a library, surprised him. This was the first room in the ARK he had ever seen that was so…homey. There were lounge chairs, coffee tables, side tables, desks, lamps, and of course, aisles upon aisles of bookshelves at the far end of the room. If it weren’t for the monochromatic walls, ceiling and floor that wasn’t covered with rugs, he’d have thought he was back on Earth.
With a new empty box in his arms, he looked down inside it, where the written list of novels Shadow wanted lay. It wasn’t very many–he counted 24. But when he looked back up at the amount of books before him, his ears lowered slightly at the daunting task. There were easily a few thousand there, and if Shadow had any from the top shelves, he’d have a lot of difficulty getting them even with the step stool against the wall.
He made his way over to the far left aisle, set the box down at the start and picked up the list. It wasn’t alphabetically listed on the sheet, so he’d have had to skip around. He looked up and down at the shelves full of volumes collecting dust, and realized after scanning the front of the shelves, that it was organized by category. Biography. History. Philosophy. Fiction… But no signs of letters within the sections. And he didn’t recognize any of the titles or authors on the list besides Charles Dickens and The Complete Works of William Shakespeare; and it didn’t say where they’d be.
He let his hand fall at his side, feeling the paper brush his leg. Are you kidding me, Shadow? His eyes scanned all along the towers of volumes, and hated the next thought that ran through his mind. So, I’m gonna have to look through all of these sections…fantastic. I wish Tails was here. Or Shadow, since he knows where everything is.
So, he spent the next grueling, antsy, and cross-eyed hour and a half scouring the shelves for ten books before he realized that there was a separate section at the end of all the aisles labeled “Shadow,” much to his aggravated annoyance. And already, there sat the rest of the aforementioned novels.
He grabbed them all carefully and placed them in the box he dragged with him, but before he could get up to leave, the rest of the untouched spines under Shadow’s name stopped him. There were so many left. Did Shadow not want these? He saw other Charles Dickens’ novels with other timeless authors like him, and many more he didn’t know. He pulled one out at random. It was clearly old, but not yet falling apart. The Hardy Boys: The House on the Cliff by Franklin W. Dixon and David L. Robbins. Judging by the title and cover, Sonic guessed this was a kid’s story. A bit of the annoyed feelings left, and a small smile graced his lips. He pictured a younger Shadow on one of the lounge chairs with this book propped up on his lap by the lamps. He giggled through his nose.
That’s too cute. I can’t imagine Shadow doing that.
He stared at the cover a moment longer before deciding to add it to the others in the box. Perhaps Shadow would be pleasantly surprised by it.
With that, he stood, lifted the box with much difficulty, and left the library to get a new box and the rest of the things Shadow told him.
When he finished with all of it, he’d found himself back in the hall they split from. He didn’t know where the other hedgehog was, but he kept going down the direction he saw him walk, only to find some boxes resting down another hall. He quietly walked toward it, hoping his steps wouldn’t disturb the other in one of the rooms. He stopped before the door where one full box lay, where he heard soft shuffling noises from, and saw a placard next to it reading–-
“M. Robotnik.” Below it was card paper with the word “Maria” in beautiful sky blue lettering and colorful flowers drawn around it. Oh…oh…
At that moment, Sonic felt his heart rise to his throat for a moment before settling back. He looked down the hall from which he came and back at Maria’s placard, unsure of what to do. Just standing here before it, with Shadow most likely in there, he felt very much out of place. He didn’t belong there. As if he was a sinner trespassing among holy territory, he backed away quietly to not disturb her spirit or the hedgehog, and walked back to the recreational room where they had Shadow’s belongings stacked. The minutes passed at an agonizing pace as he stood by the rec-room’s door awkwardly, bouncing on his feet, waiting for Shadow to come down.
Then there was before, in the beginning, where they passed many rooms with windows looking in, that were the furthest away from living quarters or libraries. Shadow’s movements were stiff, quick, and eager to get out of the area as soon as possible. But Sonic, oblivious, looked through the windows. Though the lights in all the rooms were off, they were faintly illuminated by the fluorescents in the hall they walked down, making the objects of the rooms clear. They were full of machines of all shapes and sizes that he’d never seen before. Their trek down was uneventful, but there was one room that caught his attention.
Through the window he saw a room that spanned easily fifty feet down and across. At the center he could barely see an enormous glass cylinder that stood from the floor to ceiling. Surrounding it were control boards of dials, buttons, and dormant screens. Dozens of desks and counter spaces and organizers and office chairs sat along the perimeter of the room. Two large computer screens hung on the far wall on either side of the cylinder, and two black mechanical boxes stood on either side of the screens, almost the size of the glass case. Weren’t computers back in the day really big like those black boxes? Wait, is that what those are?
Sonic took in all of this, unsure of what this room was for. He had an idea of what it was, then he looked over at Shadow, who stopped where he was.
“Hedgehog, let’s go,” he’d said.
“Okay, yeah,” Sonic had stammered, then looked back in the room, pointing at the window. “Um… is this…uh–”
“It doesn’t concern you, let’s go.” His jaw was set, and his eyes were narrowed once again at him, as well as vaguely scanning the other windows. Sonic turned back to the other, and they continued. When the sliding door at the end opened for them, Sonic stole one last glance down that mysterious hall surrounded by dark rooms before the door closed behind them. If he were to guess, that room with the glass case was for Shadow. Maybe it was for that bio-lizard but–-Shadow was clearly uncomfortable about answering, and walking down that hall…
Thinking about it at the door, he guessed that being created had its own set of hardships, especially when his creators wanted to ensure perfection from Shadow. Though he was curious as to what those hardships were, his mind steered him away from the topic and moved on; maybe to protect him from that sadistic knowledge.
He saw themselves back on the cliffside just hours ago, arguing about coming up here; Shadow pushing him away while he himself pushed against the rejections. He didn’t know if the dark hedgehog knew it, but Sonic understood a little bit of why he was being pushed away. He knew Shadow was more reserved, and wanted to come up here alone to gather his personal belongings. Everything here was personal to him.
Holding the silver ring in that tiny room, it told a little story about the hybrid’s life that he kept to himself. And he knew he may have breached past the boundaries that Shadow had, but–-
But what?
I just–-I like him. I think he’s interesting, and I want to know more about him. That’s all that’s going on…right?
He remembered the determination he felt when he held Shadow’s wrist. The curiosity of knowing more about this hedgehog before him. The compassion of wanting to help him have the life he wanted on Earth. In return, he could feel the force against him in Shadow’s eyes, his crimson irises baring down into his own, as if commanding into his soul. A stalemate between them. Both wanting stories from the other.
Did Shadow see any of that from him? Did he see the curiosity? The compassion? And if so, which one made him cave? Or was it something else that made him change his mind? Did he deep down want someone with him to get his things? Or did he actually want to be here alone?
Sonic felt a pang of guilt hit his chest. Maybe he let me come because he knew I’d find a way to come anyway. He pictured Shadow’s face again from the cliffside during their silent conversation. His eyes narrowed at his, his set jaw and rigid posture. He was just as stubborn as himself, and he knew it. But he could see the exhaustion underneath it all. He could feel it in the little effort he put into pulling his hand away. The sigh through his nose and the quieter way he said “Chaos Control.” Yeah, that’s probably what it was.
He remembered that the shine in his red eyes were gone. The energy and passion. The sharpness of his gaze and brows, the focus on his objective heightened like a hawk. But the way they were on the cliff… that energy was gone. Though his stare was still intense, his features were a bit more softened, and there was his sigh and half-assed jerk of his hand. He could tell by that alone there was a lot on his mind. Specifically what, he wasn’t sure.
Maybe it was his new job working for G.U.N. Maybe it was the matter of going back to the ARK for a little bit, with the weight of the previously lost memories back in his mind. The events here on the ARK shortly after their first encounter. Maybe it was whatever happened when he lost his home and his loved ones, and who knew what else. Maybe it was trying to piece himself together in a world and time he didn’t know in the midst of it all–
Now thinking about the facts and evidence around him–-the weariness and lackluster of his appearance, the last couple hours of walking along the dead halls of his old home and rooms spent packing his belongings, and in the mysterious silver ring his hands–-Shadow’s predicament was made much more clear to him. One word made its way to the forefront of his mind: overwhelmed. Shadow was overwhelmed, and Sonic pushed against him.
He brought his focus back to the little room with the ring in his hands, and the reflection of the lights and his face on it. The artifact was as unknown as Shadow was, and his troubles.
I had no right to include myself. That pang of guilt grew to the size of a watermelon in his torso. I don’t know anything about him, and I wanted to get to know him so bad, I didn’t even think of what he was feeling. Chaos, I’m an asshole.
He pursed his lips and set the ring down next to the other on the nightstand and hung his unfocused gaze on the little bed. The pressure inside faded some. Well, I’m here, right? I can’t change that. I’ll just help him get what he asked for and we’ll leave, like he wanted.
Before he turned around to go to the correct room, his eye caught something in the little compartment within the nightstand. He furrowed his brow and bent down, reaching out to it. His hand felt something surprisingly soft and furry in the back corner inside the space. He pulled it out to see it in the light.
Sonic’s mouth fell open. A plush. Shadow had a stuffed animal! It was a dark brown and gray cat with small marble eyes, and a red handkerchief around its neck. He turned it over to get all the details. It was simple. Cute. He remembered looking at some vintage plushies at a little shop, and they were downright horrifying. Those hard plastic faces, or the giant tufts of fur missing…This little toy was nothing like he’d see in horror movies. It was the size of his torso, with arms and legs spread open. And it was very huggable.
Sonic squeezed it to his chest, remembering how it felt to embrace his old plushies. His nose rested on the head, softly breathing in the scent of dust and…spice? He closed his eyes and smiled. Yeah, I’m getting this for him too.
He placed the cat under his arm and stood up. I spent quite a bit of time here already, he thought, so before moving to the door, he went to peek inside the chest opposite the bed. He opened it, a creek escaping from the hinges, and found it was empty. So he closed it and headed toward the door. Standing at the door, he leaned forward into the hall and looked farther down, seeing another door some ways away on the same side.
Maybe he meant the fourth door on the left? He looked to his right to see if Shadow was coming his way. No, he was still in that room. With the plush secured under his arm, he hurried down to the next door, hoping it was what Shadow said it would be when it automatically opened.
The lights turned on. Crates. Shelves. Walls full of records and music books. Sonic stared wide-eyed at the array of media that was neatly stocked up to the ceiling to the end of the room, easily a hundred feet deep. A grand golden gramophone stood to his right, waiting for someone to pop a record in it. His eyes lingered on the ancient device. He had never seen a gramophone before. It was taller than him, the opening of the “horn,” or whatever it was called, opened twice as wide as his face.
He moved closer to the old music player. He didn’t know anything about gramophones. He didn’t exactly know what he was looking at. Just like everything else he’d seen during the last couple hours here. And to add to the mystery that was Shadow, he was from a whole other time. He grew up with the music of the era that would blare from this gramophone. And who knew what else came out in this era?
Elvis, right? Was Disney around too? Black and white TV’s? Girls in big poodle skirts? Was that even a thing? Oh, and Communism, maybe?
He couldn’t think of anything else about the forties or fifties. And that was confirmed by looking at the gramophone in front of him.
Heh. I guess Shadow is a relic too. Like this thing.
He turned to the door, thinking about Shadow back there in the room with the piano, minutes ago. If he didn’t know better, it sounded like he was trying not to cry. If not that, then about to. He noticed the change in his mood in the short time that they were in there, but he didn’t think much of it other than his usual dismissive, grumpy state. No more, no less.
Then again, there was the stuffed cat under his arms. He looked down at it. Though small, it showed another side of the dark hedgehog that he probably wouldn’t show on any normal occasion. He had a childhood, to some degree. He maybe played games like any other kid. The plush was obviously well loved, but it was still in good condition. Shadow was gentle with it and cared for it. He looked up at the gramophone again.
Sonic’s eyes trailed along a ridge on the horn of the old turntable, the same way he did when looking at Shadow’s crimson stripes when he finally got a chance to get a good look at him. So unique, stark, striking. Unusual and…beautiful? Now thinking, he wasn’t sure really how he thought of Shadow’s one-of-a-kind appearance. He certainly didn’t hate it. The stripes weren’t unattractive, or as terrifying as his first encounter with him when he beat him to a pulp. It just… added to the mystery of him. And Sonic found that intriguing. He smiled at the warm anticipation from the thought.
Sonic’s eyes focused back on the entirety of the gramophone, in all its mysterious glory. Just like his darker counterpart. He smirked. Shadow… you are something else.
His heart fluttered and he scrunched up his shoulders to rid the excess energy of excitement bubbling within. His smile widened against his will. He tried forcing his lips to relax but he couldn’t. It just–-wouldn’t stop–-
He covered his warming cheeks with his hands, plush still secured under his left side. Why am I feeling like this?? He rubbed his eyes and cheeks to calm himself down enough to remember what he came here for.
Al Bowlly.
Layton and Johnstone.
Roger Williams.
He turned around to the walls full of alphabetized records. On the front of the wooden shelves were signs with letters, corresponding to the artists of each album. There were hundreds, maybe thousands of them.
B…L (or J)…and W… Just three. It shouldn’t be that hard.
Sonic walked over to the shelf where the “B” sign hung, then ran through every artist, leaning close and squinting to read the tiny names. None of them were familiar to him. But they didn’t matter, as they so far didn’t remotely resemble a name like “Bowlly.”
Scanning through all the names, he was impressed about how organized these all were. He didn’t do much with the Dewey-System, as that was Tails’ thing, but looking through it all so far, he found very few misplaced albums. Makes sense, he was a scientist: he probably liked everything neat and organized. If Tails were here, he’d lose his mind!
He crouched down as he went down the alphabet after the B’s. There. “BO.” Sonic slowed his trajectory to not miss anything.
“Bowlly”...Wait, how do you spell that? What was his first name? Al? After venturing so far into the B’s, he thought maybe he missed it somewhere, but then he froze. Al Bowlly. His heart raced as he frantically pulled the record from the shelf, setting the plush on the ground, and looked at the cover. It was of a human man with a lighter skin-tone, if the lightness of the black and white image was to convey. Dark hair. Singing in front of an old-fashioned microphone. Dressed up in a white suit and tie. Some kind of band or orchestra behind him.
Sonic ran his hand gently along the surface of the album. With his gloved hands, he couldn’t feel much, be he could imagine that it felt smooth, with some microscopic fibrous textures all along it. He hadn’t seen many records, and none of them were in as pristine shape as this. It looked almost new. All the records he’d seen were well worn, maybe thirty or forty years worth of handling. But this was different. He’d guess that this Al Bowlly was around in the 1930’s or 1940’s. He had never seen any vinyl record that old, and yet this one was in great condition, after taking a closer look.
His hand itched to take the black record out of the cover, but he didn’t dare; he wanted this to get to Shadow in the best possible condition.
He tucked the record under his arm, picked up the plush again, and moved on to the next. He spent the next few minutes wandering up and down the shelves of music foreign to him, looking at random albums as well as getting the ones requested. Before he knew it, he stood at the door to go back to Shadow in the piano room. He stopped before departing, looking back over to the array of music one more time.
There’s so much here. Did Shadow want any others? He thought back to their boxes, already full of his little amount of belongings to take down. The records would barely fit. And the plush? He’d find a way to hide it there. That was certain. He looked at the old turntable again, softly smiling. I’ll probably come back and sneak some to Shadow. Or get some myself. Tails would probably know where to get a gramophone or a newer turntable.
With the three albums and stuffed cat under his arms, he smiled in anticipation to come back for more albums, and left the room, back to Shadow and his piano.
I don’t know what he’s gonna do with that piano. Or how he’ll move it to Earth…
* * *
Shadow sat down before the idle instrument, lifting the cover. His eyes ran down the scale of the keys, glowing a dark blue from the Earth. His hands hesitated over the white and black keys, as if wondering if the spirit of the ARK would give him permission to play. Opting against playing a chord, he lowered his right hand on the surface of the keys, and slowly grazed it up the treble scale. He couldn’t feel the texture of them with his gloves, but he felt the dips between them, mentally recalling what running up the treble clef sounded like.
He could almost hear the notes ringing off the ancient instrument, and echo off the walls, ceiling, and floor. The music, bringing the room back to life. But he didn’t dare.
Instead he let his hands ghost over the ivory keys. He traced along the mahogany frame around them absentmindedly, wiping a layer of dust away.
He let his mind wander as he returned to caressing the keys. He remembered so many songs he played on this piano. So many hours of practicing classical pieces and composers. Messing up the chords in Bach. The triumph of playing Fur Elise in one try all by himself for the first time. The warmth of a human girl’s presence sitting next to him, her right hand on his to assist in octaves too large for him.
Too lost in his mind, he vaguely acknowledged a pallid hand rest over his gloved one, fingers lining up with his. Seeing this his eyes shifted to their hands, drowning in the comforting, familiar weight. He closed his eyes to bask in the contact.
Lullaby of the Leaves.
The way you wrote it.
He opened his eyes when that name crossed his mind. The thought of wondering where that title came from was quieted by Shadow recalling the song. His body moved involuntarily, hands settling in at their respective positions, an octave lower than usual; the hand on his followed suit. Still looking at the girl’s hand, he saw the room brighten around him in that once fluorescent glow. The blues faded. The black and white keys returned to their normal shades. In his periphery, he saw sheet music resting on the stand. The air softly circulated once again. The dead smell disappeared.
And the hand. Maria’s hand. Solid. Warm. Real.
Shadow smiled. He could feel her loving gaze on him as she waited for him to begin the musical number. He didn’t look over his shoulder to see if she was really there–he already knew she was.
Captured in this dream-like state, he curled his fingers and began playing.
His mind was empty as his hands automatically played the personalized tune of Lullaby of the Leaves. Everything seemed so far away. His cares were gone. His grief was gone. His guilt. Remorse. Maria was here. What was there to be guilty or sad about? She was still here, out of bed. Feeling well today. One day closer to healing her sickness and seeing Earth together. Why worry?
Cradle me where Southern skies
Can watch me with a million eyes
Sing me to sleep, lullaby of the leaves
Shadow let a canine slip in his smile as he continued playing, watching Maria’s hand following on top of his. Yes, everything will be okay…
* * *
Sonic stood at the entrance of the piano room, once again frozen. But this time, it wasn’t because of the overwhelming emptiness or the heavenly illumination.
It was the hedgehog before him at the piano, playing a song he couldn’t place the name of. A song that gave many mixed feelings within him, all he could do was stand and stare, forgetting the plush and records in his hand.
Shadow… was playing the piano. Sonic didn’t expect this from him at all. And he played so deft, smooth, and so beautifully. The melancholy. The nostalgia. The song of life and beauty wrapped in sorrow. The way it sounded so familiar to him, he would’ve been agitated if he wasn’t already entranced by it.
I know it, I just know it! It’s right there! But it’s… off, somehow. I don’t–-
Sonic’s eyes widened and realization flooded from his head to his toes. Lullaby of the Leaves.
He furrowed his brows and strained his ears, making sure he was correct.
Yeah, it’s Lullaby of the Leaves… I can hear it!
But why does it sound so… sad?
No answer came to him, but he didn’t mind it, as all he could do was gape from afar, and listen to the notes piercing through the dead atmosphere. To him, it didn’t matter if it was Lullaby of the Leaves, or some other song; it seemed like it was a message from the dark hedgehog’s heart. All the things left unsaid in the past, and everything that words couldn’t convey. A new sound, from Shadow himself.
With all the vague revelations he had about Shadow that day, and the guilt of intruding in his space, he still did want him to be his friend, and knew it would be a bit harder to accomplish. With what they had experienced together and the little bit that he knew about him, he knew he had been through a lot of pain, betrayal, loss, and who knew what else. And it may be harder because of his own constant pushing in his privacy back at the cliff. He knew he needed to gain a different level of trust, if he wanted Shadow to see him more than a comrade or ally when situations called for it. Specifically what he wanted, he didn’t know yet.
But standing there, listening to him play this personalized, soulful masterpiece and watching his glowing silhouette move in time with the sounds; it told Sonic everything he needed to know from him.
Cover me with heaven’s blue
And let me dream a dream or two
Sing me to sleep, lullaby of the leaves
Sonic blinked and softened his expression. He absorbed the melody into memory to be kept only for himself. It was much lower than he remembered, and the chords were drawn out as well. He could hear the use of the foot pedal with how the mix of sounds filled the entirety of the space and reverberated in his ear canals. Some chords were broken that he knew typically weren’t supposed to be. But it is. This is his song.
Just then, he remembered the weight in his arms, looked down, and saw the plushie and vinyl. Hesitating, he looked back up at Shadow, and the boxes by the instrument. He tapped his fingers against the vinyl cover, thinking.
I don’t want to interrupt him, he’ll probably be mad at me. That’s the opposite of what I’m trying to do.
He looked down at his watch: 8:37 p.m. They’d been there for quite some time already, and the sun would be almost completely set.
Heh, I guess it doesn’t matter up here, there’s no day or night.
Don’t I feel it in my soul
And don’t I know I’ve reached my goal?
Sing me to sleep–
Sonic looked up when he noticed the song was starting to come to a close, but he didn’t want this to end. Seeing Shadow in his element, concluding his good-bye to his old home.
However, they did need to get back. Tails would start to be a bit worried. Even though he didn’t want to ruin this serene moment, he took slow steps forward to not break Shadow’s focus.
* * *
The final note rang through Shadow’s ears and to the walls of the warmly lit room. His gaze, once at the sheet music for the song, fell down at his right hand, where Maria’s still rested. He could see her blue dress in his periphery, seated beside him with her legs tucked underneath.
The sounds fell away. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath of the clear air to further ground himself in the moment. But he smelled…age? Dust?
He snapped his eyes open again to his hand, dreading the truth. Her hand was gone. The fluorescent lights were gone. The blue light had returned. Everything was silent once again.
But it wasn’t as unwelcoming as when he first walked in. This empty silence seemed to have alleviated a weight off his shoulders, a weight he didn’t know he had. He sat up straighter in response to the sensation. The pressurized atmosphere dissipated. It was as if the spirit of the ARK finally found the closure it needed, and made a peaceful exit to rest.
He was alone. The room was still empty, but not dead anymore. No ghosts. Just a skeleton. Just Shadow and the piano.
A shuffling noise broke him out of his trance. He looked to his right to find Sonic placing something in the box opposite of his.
Oh, right. He’s still here.
“Sorry,” Sonic said, “I didn’t want to interrupt.”
Shadow hesitated, fumbling to find a response. “You didn’t,” he said after a beat. He faced forward again at the keys, his hands rested on their surfaces.
Sonic continued shuffling Shadow’s belongings before setting what he was holding down in a secure spot. Shadow didn’t know what to do with his hands or anything. Sonic probably watched him get lost in his world, playing the piano. He wasn’t sure why he felt a little self-conscious or annoyed that Sonic was watching him be, in a sense, vulnerable.
Vulnerable? I was just playing the piano…
Sonic kept moving Shadows things, readjusting them. He seemed unsure about what to do too.
“Well, I checked the time, it’s almost nine,” Sonic said, straightening his posture, “we should probably get going soon. Are there other things you wanted to get?”
Shadow tilted his head slightly, thinking. “No. You got the records?”
“Yeah, uh, I put them in here.” Sonic gestured his thumb at the exit and added a chipper lilt to his tone. “You sure you didn’t want anything else from there? There’s a ton of records in that room.”
“I didn’t like the same things the Professor did. Those were just my favorites from him.”
Sonic bent down, and picked up the box. Shadow reached his hand to the knob on the cover for the piano keys, solemn that it was probably the last time he’d play it here.
“That was really good, by the way.”
Shadow faced Sonic. “Sorry?”
“You, playing that song,” he repeated, “I really liked it. I didn’t know you played the piano.”
Shadow smirked and closed the lid. “There is a lot you don’t know about me.” He ran his hands over the wooden cover one last time before sliding off the bench.
Sonic tilted his head at him. “I won’t tell anyone that I saw you playing the piano, if that breeches too much on your privacy.”
Shadow stood fully, regarding him and huffed. “As if you haven’t already done that by pestering me to come here.” He picked up his box, balanced it on one hand and his torso, and pulled the Chaos Emerald out of his quills with the other.
Sonic drummed his fingers against the box and bit his lip. “Uh…yeah, I’m sorry for pushing you like that. I, uh…that was pretty inappropriate, and I wasn’t thinking. I’ll keep my space next time.”
Shadow huffed again and looked up at him. “I’ll excuse it this time. But don’t do it again.”
Sonic nodded, and looked at the instrument. “You’re not taking this with you, are you?”
“No.” Shadow looked down at the white Emerald, glowing in contact with his hand. He could barely make out the outline of his features from the reflection on it. Then it hit him: this was the final time here in his old home. He made peace with the ghosts, sent them off in a final serenade, and it was time to put this chapter to a close. Time to make a new life for himself in a world he had always dreamed of exploring. The only thing standing between the uncertainty of Earth and the comforting familiarity of the Ark was the Emerald he held.
He felt his throat tighten at the daunting thought. The world was so big. And he had already made a mistake that almost cost the planet’s existence. The vast uncertainty almost shook him to the core. He looked up at Sonic. The look the hero gave him in return was one of respect. Enthusiasm. An energy that Shadow only hoped he could feel in himself. Sonic’s spontaneity, though sometimes stupid, gave him an eventful life, and a family of misfits. Sonic, who was world renowned for his heroism against dark forces, no matter the odds, and still managed to make it on top. Sonic, who Shadow tried to kill on multiple occasions before fighting alongside him against the ARK’s descent… was welcoming him. He was standing there, carrying his stuff, and helping him transport him to a new life. Inviting him, with those round green eyes and a smile that could even lighten up this room.
Shadow locked gazes with him, astounded and in disbelief over the blue hedgehog before him. How he could be so accommodating, forgiving, or kind to the likes of him, he had no idea. He thought there was no way someone as good and revered as him could want him in his life. As if to answer his own question, he recalled all the times they had fought, each other and side-by-side. Sonic wasn’t afraid of him, and Shadow could see in the way he looked at him that he held a respect for him, and an earnest to see more from him.
He never ceases to surprise me…
“Shad…?” Sonic cocked his head and furrowed his brow at the prolonged eye contact. “You okay?”
Shadow blinked and looked at the Emerald again.
“Yes,” he answered, “I’m fine. It’s just–-” a whole new level of adoration for the blue hedgehog’s character flowed from him.
Sonic, an acquaintance, but an equal…
Everything will be okay.
“Thank you,” he said softly, “for coming along to help me.”
“Oh!” Sonic blinked and smiled wider. “Of course, I had a great time! Anytime you need help with anything, hit me up, yeah?”
Shadow kept his small smile. He knew Sonic didn’t quite understand the entire meaning behind his gratitude, but he’d take it. “Come over here, I’ll Chaos Control us back.”
“What? Aw, no, lemme do it!” Sonic reached his hand out to the Emerald. Shadow’s smile dropped immediately at that.
“Ugh, okay fine.” Sonic walked over to Shadow around the piano bench and placed his free hand on Shadow's shoulder.
Bracing himself for the life ahead, he gave the command with no falter in his voice.
“Chaos Control!”
They made their trips back and forth to a recreational room they set for the remaining dozen or so boxes. After the last trip back to earth, the sky was completely dark, the moon reigned over the Earth in a first-quarter’s phase, and a chilled autumn breeze blew from the west. They flashed in the living room of Shadow’s apartment the final time and set the boxes down with the others they gathered. Sonic stretched his arms above his head and quietly grunted, as to not wake up Shadow’s roommate, Rouge.
“Well, that’s the last of it,” he said through his stretch.
“Yes,” Shadow responded, still crouched down by the stacks of belongings, “it is. Now get out of my house.”
“Pfft. Geez, Shad, no need to be rude.” Then he turned on his heel toward the front door. “Also, it’s an apartment, not a house.”
“I don’t care.”
Sonic chuckled and opened out into the outdoor hall of the complex, the wind lightly blowing his bur and quills. He turned back and rested his hands on the frame and turned to the hybrid; who stood and walked to the door when he saw that the damn hedgehog was still there. “I know tonight’s probably not the best time, buuut…”
“Hedgehog–-” He placed his hand on the door, ready to close it in Sonic’s face, and let his other hand fall down his own in exasperation.
“Not tonight, I know it was a bit hard for you up there, and you probably want your space from me because of that, but maybe, some other time we could–”
“If you say ‘hang out’ or ‘race’, I swear.”
“I won’t get myself in your personal spaces again, I promise.”
Shadow stared at Sonic’s face, which was struggling to keep from grinning.
“So is that a yeesss…?"
“Don’t be ridiculous. Now get the hell out of my sight.”
Sonic pushed back on the frame and lifted his hands behind his head, smiling. “Whatever you say, dude. I’ll see you around?”
Shadow said nothing to this, but his features softened for just a moment before giving a faint smirk. Then he shut the door with the click of the lock following. Sonic stood there for another beat and chuckled, already anticipating their next meet, then took off into the night, the brown leaves flying in his wake.
And then it was silent again, on Earth as in the bones of the ARK. The same stillness was there like before, but the grieving spirits had left. Their waiting was finally over. From then on they could look from above at the beautiful world, rotating until they’d see the land where Shadow dwelled come into view of the sunrise. Day one of the rest of his life.