Chapter Text
Fall comes to Green Hills on quiet feet. It creeps in with the wind, with dew on grass and a faint fog over the lake in the mornings.
But then all at once it bursts into existence. The trees light up with yellow and red and orange, turning the forests outside town into labyrinths of fiery color. It reminds Shadow of stolen moments, sneaking out of the labs with her. The mountains of Colorado had been dark then, of course, but the pops of trees turning with the season had still been visible in the moonlight.
Now he takes it all in with a kind of quiet wonder, walking down mountain paths and breathing in the crisp air. It's pleasantly cool out, not enough to pierce through his fur, but enough to settle pleasantly all up and down his arms and the tips of his ears.
It's been six months since he was brought back to Green Hills. To the house he now has a space in, to the people who still insist on being called Tom and Maddie instead of sir and ma'am.
The splint and crutches are long gone, though his leg still aches sometimes. Shadow doesn't know how to feel about it– on one hand, it punches a hole in the 'Ultimate Lifeform' title bestowed on him by the scientists back at the base. But then, that moniker was more to do with his superhuman capabilities (and more importantly his ability to produce Chaos energy for them). That he now has a persistent ache after suffering a broken limb– even if he'd healed much, much faster than Madeline anticipated– seems to point to his being… less than ultimate.
It's strange but, apart from the pain itself, he finds it almost comforting. He's not invulnerable, just durable. Not inorganic. Living, breathing, alive.
Of course it still hurts. Enough to cut his pleasant early morning walk shorter than it could have been, enough to have him walking instead of gliding smoothly along the ground on his hover skates. Oh well– the crunch of leaves underfoot is oddly satisfying, anyway. And he's not exactly interested in finding out if the low burn of Chaos energy through the soles would be enough to ignite the brittle, dry brush along the path.
He half-expects Sonic to meet him out back of the house, but there's only Knuckles on the roof when he returns. The echidna cracks an eye open upon his approach, nods incrementally, and returns to his rooftop meditation.
Madeline's making breakfast as he heads inside. "Shadow, good morning," she greets, turning as though to give him a head pat or– something. It seems like an instinctual movement, one that she smoothly covers by reaching for the cup cabinet. "Coffee?"
"Yes, please," Shadow nods politely, accepting the mug from her with both hands. "Thank you." The ma'am sits on his tongue but does not leave his mouth. He feels like she hears it, anyway.
"How's the leg?"
"I am still experiencing minor twinges after exertion," he replies dutifully, stirring in a few tablespoons of sugar. Sonic had teased him for having a sweet tooth when he saw. Shadow had then pointed out that Sonic ate an entire gallon of ice cream by himself one night, and thus had no room to talk.
He hadn't realized it would get him in trouble at the time. And he felt a little bad about it for the two days Sonic was grounded.
"Hmmm. Might have to do with the weather," Madeline hums as she stirs the eggs around the pan. Shadow nods, hopping up onto one of the stools at the counter, and sips his coffee in companionable silence.
It lasts for as long as it takes Madeline to finish scrambling the eggs and then start on the bacon. Like a siren song, the sizzle-pop and scent of frying meat draws Thomas and Tails downstairs, and then Knuckles comes down from the roof and through the back door to join them, smelling like grass and wind.
Sonic has yet to make an appearance.
No one else seems to have noticed the hyperactive hedgehog's absence, so Shadow doesn't ask, either. He glances towards the stairs as everyone starts loading up their plates and heading to the table. As he bites down on a slice of bacon– crispy and satisfying– and as he declines a refill on his coffee.
Finally, he can't restrain his curiosity anymore. "Where's Sonic?" Shadow asks, trying to sound polite and unconcerned.
Maddie glances at his empty seat and then the ceiling. "Oh, he's probably sleeping in," she intones in the manner of a mother long-accustomed to her son's habits. But then– "It's starting to get cold out, isn't it?" –she adds, apropos of nothing, and gestures towards the casserole dish heaped with scrambled eggs and cheese at the center of the table. "Help yourself if you're still hungry, sweetie."
Shadow hasn't finished his current portion, and may yet have to force himself to clean his plate. It would be incredibly rude to not, even if he has long since realized he doesn't need to eat as much as others seem to.
Sonic finally shambles down the stairs as everyone's starting to get up and put their cutlery in the washer. He looks… wrong. Shadow almost drops his fork when he sees the bleary eyes and mussed-up quills in place of perfect spikes and a bright green gaze.
"G'mornin'," Sonic slurs the words together and hefts himself up onto a chair with little fanfare.
Thomas looks up from his phone. He'll be heading off for his shift soon, by the looks of it– khaki shirt, matching pants, and a belt with a half-dozen packs, straps, and a holster. "There he is. Sleep good, pal?"
Sonic grunts vaguely in assent and starts shoveling eggs into his mouth. Straight from the casserole dish. He doesn't even pause when Tom ruffles between his ears.
It's extremely weird.
What's weirder is the look the two Wachowskis exchange over his head. It's a sort of knowing exasperation, like they aren't perplexed by Sonic walking down the stairs, or surprised at his complete lack of table manners as he decides it'll be easier to just drag the casserole dish closer to himself.
Shadow looks between them, expression stoic, mind racing. Tom goes back to his phone (texting Wade, judging by the furrow between his brows), and Maddie tweaks Sonic's ear as she passes, chiding, "Remember to breathe, Blueberry."
Finally, finally Sonic does something more in-character; he groans and tips his head away from Madeline's fingers. "Mo-ooom! Not in front of Shads," he whines around a mouthful of eggs and bacon.
"He's seen you after a bath, I don't think a nickname is going to tarnish your pride much more," Tom adds dryly, giving his wife a kiss goodbye. "Alright, no cataclysmic events today, boys. Got it?"
Shadow nods solemnly, though he's still got half his attention on Sonic. The blue blur looks marginally more awake now than he had just five minutes ago, ears perking, fingers twitchy. Like himself. Perhaps he just slept poorly.
If a bad night was to blame for Sonic's odd behavior, then he must be having them every night thereafter. Shadow starts making a note of when the other hedgehog emerges each morning, and to his rising suspicion, it seems a bit later every time he references back.
He also continues to eat like a garbage truck.
"Mmm, you sure you don't– want in on this?" Sonic gestures with chili-coated fingers in the direction of Shadow, Knuckles, and Tails. They're taking turns playing MarioKart. After Sonic had been knocked off the course by a well-timed shell and had to cede his winning streak (to Shadow), he'd disappeared into the kitchen to grab a pack of cold hot dogs, the hot dog buns, and the entire Tupperware of chili.
And then he'd started eating.
And eating.
Shadow curls a lip in mild disgust. "You had seconds at lunch. And thirds," he points out. Sonic just shrugs and continues assembling yet another chili dog, completely unphased by the fact it's still cold. "Where are you even putting all of that?"
"The blue one's metabolism is impressive," Knuckles agrees solemnly, arranging the controller in his gloved hands like it's something fragile. Which, considering he's never seen the Wachowskis hand the echidna a cup made of something other than plastic, it probably is to him.
Tails, who took his loss in stride, looks up from the project he's tinkering with between races. "There's more to it than just that. It's November."
The mention of the time of year makes no sense, provides no explanation for Sonic's shift in eating habits. Shadow glances at Tails out of the corner of his eye, thumbs primed over the buttons. "So?"
The buzzer goes off, so he doesn't get to parse what the little fox's expression is doing as the race starts. But there's a minute pause between his question and Tails' response. "Well… It's almost winter. You know– hibernation?"
Shadow almost misses the first round of item boxes. He twitches his kart over just in time and is rewarded with a set of banana peels. Hibernation? "That's a thing for you?"
Sonic shrugs in his periphery, licking his fingers. He's already demolished the chili dog and looks like he's gearing up for the next one. "Uh, yeah," he says, like it's the most obvious thing in the world. "Don't you feel it?"
Shadow feels nothing except a small, tight sinking feeling in his core. He oversteers on the next curve and has to wait for his kart to be floated back onto the track, during which Knuckles manages to pass him.
And then fires all of his green shells backwards, sending him careening off the ledge a second time.
"Echidnas do not hibernate," Knuckles informs the room, leaning forward in concentration. "Our bodies simply slow down with the coming of the winter season, rather than stopping altogether."
"Hey– I don't stop," Sonic protests, brandishing a sauce-coated spoon at Knuckles. "It's not like I go to sleep for three months straight!"
"No. You only cease to rise for a month, and in the time both before and after, you become slow and dull-witted."
"Dull-w– That's it. Shads, I'm taking the controller after this," Sonic declares. Shadow scarcely has time to start forming a protest– he has yet to catch sight of the red echidna's kart, but that doesn't mean he's already lost– but then Sonic goes and shoves the whole chili dog in his mouth. All at once.
It's disgusting enough that Shadow ends up oversteering and sailing off the track in the same exact place as the previous lap.
And then Knuckles gets off a blue shell, the traitor.
With a short, sharp sigh through his nose, Shadow cedes his controller to the blue hedgehog, who makes a show of wiping his hands (on his thighs) before accepting. "I'll show you dull-witted," he grins, bright and feral in that distinctly good-spirited way that Sonic has about him. If not for the fact Shadow had personally seen just how slow and, well, dull Sonic had been just an hour ago, he wouldn't believe it. That and the fact Tails dropped the hibernation bomb.
He ducks out of their video game marathon after a few more rounds. Sonic's a menace at MarioKart, and after a point it just turns into the two hedgehogs racing each other in fierce competition to see who will have to swap out for a round. Tails gets absorbed enough into his project that he starts waving off his turn, which only exacerbates the situation.
Shadow's also too distracted to properly trash talk. Too aware of the lack of warmth that normally radiates off Sonic's fur like a miniature sun with his high energy. Normally he can feel it from across the room– now, it's like he's sitting next to embers in the hearth.
Hibernation.
The word sits with Shadow through the next couple of days. He goes for his walks and watches the leaves start to shake loose, drifting down to the forest floor until the brittle grass is scarcely visible. Feels the wind go from a brisk caress to a deeper chill, one that has him hesitating to turn down Madeline's offer of a scarf.
He ends up in an ill-fitting 'beanie' to go with said scarf, because "Your ears are gonna get cold out there, sweetheart." He doesn't argue, because his ears have been getting cold lately, but mostly because she's starting to use the same pet names as she does with the others and it's… disconcerting. Not bad per se, but it makes Shadow's insides twist strangely.
And the scarf is red, which he appreciates. It's the little things.
He's fiddling with the tasseled end of said scarf, sitting on a fallen log a little ways off the path. The sky is only just starting to change colors, from a pale pre-dawn blue to the warmer, more radiant shades of morning light. Shadow had known about the change in daylight, the way the nights would grow longer or shorter with the change in Earth's axial tilt, but knowing it and experiencing it are two very different concepts. It's the same time he always gets up– five o'clock on the dot, which even fifty years of stasis couldn't drill out of him– and yet the planet itself seems to be sleeping in.
The whole world is slowing down around him.
Shadow frowns, looks down at the scarf, and realizes he's starting to tease one of the knotted tassels loose. That won't do– he'd be remiss if he damaged it, even if he has a sneaking suspicion that this particular scarf was meant explicitly for him. He smooths the end down against his front and starts fiddling with his gloves instead.
His leg still hurts. He still has to take breaks, now and then, sitting on an overturned log or under a tree or on one of the benches closer to town. But it's fading. Healing. He wonders if he'll feel any pain at all come next year.
He wonders if he's going to start slowing down, too. Hibernating.
Gerald had said he was 'biologically similar to small Earth mammals, in particular the hedgehog, but with many notable differences'. Notable differences– like the fact he was bipedal, or could speak and understand language. Mathematics. Weapon schematics.
But he was quilled along his head and back, and could roll up into a defensive ball at will, and his nose and muzzle bore superficial similarities to Earth hedgehogs, so he didn't question it.
When he met Sonic the hedgehog, questioning whether they were actually the same species didn't even cross Shadow's mind. It was… obvious. Apparent. Assumed.
Shadow lifts a hand to his own chest and feels for his pulse under the ruff of white fur. Strong. Steady. Slightly elevated, but then, he had been walking for awhile before pausing to watch the sun come up. The air is cold, a stark contrast against the warmth under his black fur.
He doesn't feel tired. He doesn't feel hungry at all.
His hover skates crunch against the ground as he gets up and turns back towards the Wachowski house.
He tries.
One morning, Shadow doesn't immediately roll out of his hammock once his eyes open. He lays in the dark and listens; the creak of the house settling, the soft breathing of three other bodies. If he concentrates, he can pick out individual patterns. Knuckles' wheezy-snores, Tails' measured rhythm, and the disconcertingly slow rise and fall of Sonic's breaths.
Shadow closes his eyes, folds his arms, and tries to sleep.
He just ends up watching the colors change through his eyelids as the sun comes up.
He doesn't stir when the other two do, and he's not wholly sure why. Knuckles rises shortly after the sun does, silently fixing his blanket and slipping into his shoes before hopping up to the skylight and then onto the roof. It's a little impressive that he's so quiet throughout it all.
Tails rouses shortly after, the sound of his breathing quickening as he drifts towards consciousness. He's similarly quiet, though the soft whir of his twin tails can easily be heard going down the stairs.
And then there's just him and Sonic.
Shadow re-crosses his arms. Rolls over in his hammock, careful to keep his quills tucked down so as to not puncture the material. Folds his hands under his cheek.
Eventually, he gives up and rolls down onto the floor.
Sonic's a lump under the blankets, more like an impression of a person, with nary a stray limb or spike sticking out. Shadow stares at the vague shape of him for a few minutes, listening to the almost inaudible sound of his breathing.
…Completely inaudible.
His ears perk forward, straining. Nothing.
Shadow feels his own heart rate accelerate as he grabs the blanket and tugs it down roughly. Sonic doesn't so much as twitch from the sudden chill; he's curled up half on his side, instead of starfished across the bed like usual. He looks… still. Like a doll. Like a body.
Before he can overthink it, Shadow kneels next to the bed and presses his ear to the blue blur's chest.
It takes a panic-inducing amount of time before he hears the faint th-thump of a heartbeat. He waits. Counts the seconds between each.
His pulse is a meager twenty beats per minute.
He's… hibernating.
Shadow sits back on his haunches, frowning. He doesn't feel relieved. For just that one moment, he thought Sonic was– no, he didn't. He was just. Disturbed. For a creature so strongly associated with movement and speed, seeing him like this– lax, limp, unmoving– is difficult to process.
Like…
"Maria!"
Gloved hands curl into fists on his thighs. He gives himself a little shake and straightens up. Starts to reach for the blanket.
Instead, Shadow finds himself slotting onto the narrow bed next to Sonic. He doesn't consciously decide to, it just happens. One moment, he's standing next to the bed; the next, he's pushing against Sonic's back with his own, trying to carve out a sliver of space on the edge.
He's warm now. Like the warmth of being tucked under a blanket, the warmth of sleep. Shadow reaches for the covers and tugs them up a little awkwardly over them both. All the way over his head and Sonic's, like he'd been before.
It's stuffy almost immediately. Shadow doesn't move, doesn't shift to poke his nose out of the sheets. He curls up on his side, the way Sonic was before he disturbed him. He closes his eyes.
He does not sleep.