Chapter Text
Rouge pressed her head firmly against a stack of couch cushions with a heavy sigh. Though she couldn’t see it, a similar stack was placed under her swollen feet. But no amount of cushioning could fully soothe the aches she felt all over.
Lying down, all she could see was the massive round bump beneath her shirt. Smiling softly, she ran her hands up and down its smooth surface. The bat winced slightly when she felt a couple of firm kicks beneath her palm. That was her unborn son’s way of telling her that he was still there. And that he was doing alright.
Her husband and daughter had gone out for lunch, but she’d opted to stay put. Work and moving houses had given her little time to relax these past few months. Since her maternity leave started two days ago, she could lounge around as much as she wanted. Though she doubted that this restful period would last much longer.
Rouge had her final OB appointment yesterday. The baby had dropped further into her pelvis. And according to Dr. Romero, she was already starting to dilate (almost one full centimeter!) Her heart warmed, remembering how tightly Shadow squeezed her hand as the doctor said those words. Soon, they’d be back at the on-base hospital to welcome their little boy into the world.
Rouge could still hardly believe this was happening. As tired as the bat was, she was afraid to close her eyes, worried that she’d wake up to find that this miracle she’d been given was all a dream. This was the furthest she’d gotten with any pregnancy, as Maria had arrived two months early. The bat’s eyes slowly gazed around the room, examining all the family portraits they’d taken since their firstborn entered their lives. It was surreal, watching her daughter grow from an unnaturally tiny newborn in an incubator to the vibrant (and slightly moody) almost teen that she was now. All in just ten seconds. It was still incredible to think that, once family portrait time rolled around again, they’d have two kids in it instead of just one.
Then her gaze settled on a different picture above the mantelpiece. It was an enlarged sepia-tone portrait of Gerald and Maria Robotnik aboard the Space Colony Ark. Her husband’s creator and his beloved granddaughter, the first close friend Shadow ever had in his life. They were his family, and he’d lost them both. Even now, over 70 years since the tragedy on the Ark and Gerald’s descent into madness, her husband still grieved. Granted, the pain weighed over him less after over a decade of therapy, contributions to medical research, and having a family of his own. Still, like all trauma, the pain lingered for The Ultimate Lifeform.
That’s when it occurred to her: this baby was technically her sixth child. A sudden wave of guilt washed over the bat, fearing she’d forget about the four that she’d lost. Her eyes watered. What kind of a mother am I?
Perhaps it was just a mix of pregnancy hormones and reminiscing, but, seeming out of nowhere, Rouge burst into sobs. Loud, ugly sobs, almost like the kind the bat cried when she held her stillborn child in her arms. As much as she tried to stop it, the tears kept coming, and she just kept wailing louder. That’s when she felt the ground shake slightly as a familiar E-series robot entered the room.
“WHAT’S THE MATTER? ARE YOU IN PAIN? SHOULD I CALL SHADOW?”
Instantly, the bat pulled herself together. Perhaps seeing a close companion was enough to somewhat pull her out of that headspace. Now she felt terrible for Omega. The poor guy must’ve thought she was in labor or something. Still, after several months, the robot was sort of used to her mood swings. Rouge wished she could say the same for herself. Even this far along, the bat still wasn’t used to them. In fact, now she was suddenly filled with a burst of energy she couldn’t explain. But she was also motivated in a way that made complete sense.
With a quick smirk, she turned to her friend. “Omega, help me off the couch. I need to get to my room.”