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To say he didn't know when it started, that it happened suddenly, without warning was cliché and ignorant and quite frankly would be a waste of his time.
He knew exactly when it began.
Where all things like this began, he supposed.
He wasn't impressed by her upon first sight. She was a bat and a thief, yet something in her eyes, the curve of her smirk, led him to think there was something worthwhile in her. Something beneath thief and spy . He didn't give himself time to weigh on it. He had a promise to fulfill. A mission to complete.
It would have been the wise course of action not to save her. He had a time limit, he had more important things to do than play hero for a reckless bat... but he did. He went back. He saved her. And when she asked why... he didn't provide her an answer.
It wasn't that he couldn't. Or that he didn't know. It wasn't a sudden burst of reason in his plot for vengeance. It wasn't Maria's spirit reaching through to him that made him act.
Simply put... that annoying bat had far too much in her to die in such a way.
And then he fell. He remembered Maria's true wish. He turned coat on the Professor's plan and gave his life so the people of that planet could achieve their chances to be happy. He would have died, satisfied in the knowledge that he fulfilled his sister's last wish, that everyone, including the bat worth too much, could be happy.
But he didn't die. For all intents and purposes, he may as well have been, given he had no memory of who he was or what he was meant to do. Nothing but his name, and the gruesome image of blood and gunfire.
But she found him. She was a stranger, but she needed him, and loathe he was to admit it, he needed her. He needed answers, she needed her scores, and in that theirs was a mutually beneficial partnership.
He wondered why, at first, she hung around him during the invasion. When he was lost and confused, when darkness whispered lies in his ears, when the truth suddenly came to light after fifty years... there she still was. He couldn't fathom why, but the only conclusion he could draw was the same one he'd drawn. That as he had seen something in her... maybe she'd seen something in him. He couldn't imagine what, and he didn't want to know for the longest time. It was easier, not to dwell on things that could never last.
But they had. For years, she remained at his side, no matter how abrasive or antisocial or simply unpleasant he was. Their banter became the highlights of his day. He looked forward to her sarcasm, always executed with deadly precision and elegance that he couldn't not enjoy it. Her loyalty to him, her unwavering trust, he knew it hadn't been freely given… they were alike in that regard. And in her trust in him… he learned to trust in her.
He began seeking her out. Simply for the pleasure of her company. She was intriguing, an enigma disguised as an open book, and it was a puzzle he looked forward to solving. Each discovery about her was a victory he relished in.
Of course he noticed when his curiosity of her shifted from platonic to something deeper, stronger… scarier. He forced himself to draw back, to analyze the meaning behind this subtle shift. He wondered if this was just of him… was this something he was even capable of pursuing? Was it selfish of him to want more than friendship with her? He spent many nights on the roof of their apartment, watching the stars, figuring it out one constellation at a time. Could this be something she desired as well? What if he was the only one? Was it worth the risk? Could he even be this selfish? …Maria had wished for him to give everyone a chance for happiness; did that, perhaps, include him, too? Was his heart something even worth giving away? …After loving and losing once in his life… could he do it again, knowing the risk?
“I spent the past several months attempting to answer those questions.” He licked his lips and met her teal eyes. Was it the candlelight that made her eyes glow so radiantly…or was it just her?
“Did you answer them?” She tilted her head curiously, her lips curled into a similar smirk as it had been when they'd first met. Only warmer, fonder, sweeter. It gave him hope.
“Yes… and no.” He confessed. “I… I do think that… Maria meant her wish to include me. And, I hope I am right when…when I dare say, you desire this as I do.” Her smirk widened. He knew that smirk, and relief coursed through him at the sight of it. The smirk she only smiled when something was stated that should be glaringly obvious. He glanced down at the bouquet in his hands, playing with the bejeweled string. “But I don't…I don't know if I can be the love you deserve. I don't know if I can love like I had before, but… I do… want to try. And I want to try with you… for you. If that is alright with you.” His ruby eyes peeked up hopefully.
There are many clichés about love. They say it is sudden, that it comes unexpectedly. That, in Shadow's knowledge of love, is ludicrous. Love is a choice. It is something built on a foundation of trial and error and mistake and joy.
But, judging by the warmth that blooms in Shadow's chest where he once had a heart worth giving, by the sparks that sing through his fur upon her soft kiss… not all clichés on love were untrue.