Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

A distant train whistle roused him from his nap.

Sonic’s eyelids fluttered open, moving his hat aside from where he had set it over his face to block out the afternoon sun. He stretched and nestled against the smooth rock outcropping he was lazing upon, the stone still toasty warm from baking in the high, dry temperatures all day.

It was nearly evening now, and a crisp chill pervaded the desert air. He took a deep, grateful breath, enjoying the sting of the cold in his lungs. He watched the sun finish its descent over the distant canyon mountains and paint the cloudless sky in warm, pastel colors, speckled only by the faint outline of stars that would soon turn into a patchwork of diamonds. He tipped the brim of his hat up to admire the view.

Frontier Canyon had been his home for three months now. The arid heat had been more than a minor adjustment; he still jumped in fright whenever he heard the telltale warning of a territorial rattlesnake; and whenever a powerful monsoon struck, he regretfully reminisced on the balmy beaches and tepid weather of the tropical islands he had once frequented during his travels.

But he could live with the rampant scorpion problem; and the cloying sand that needled his eyes during the frequent dust storms; and even the perpetual danger of drought; because the small town nestled in the canyon’s expanse of hearty acreage possessed some of the kindest Mobians he’d ever met, and he had made lifelong friends amongst the small population in his short but eventful time there.

He hadn’t been looking for a home – in fact, quite the opposite. He cherished his freedom, and the lack of responsibility that came with not being tied down to one place for any given time allowed him to go where he wanted, when he wanted. Life was too short to waste it in one place, he’d always figured; there was too much to see, too much to do.

But when he’d stumbled across the humble town of Mirage, he had been subject to a moral obligation to stick around and help to liberate the place from the clutches of its entitled, greedy Mayor. The Mayor, touting his corps of goonish law enforcement that obeyed his every nefarious order, had been taxing the town and its occupants into attempted nonexistence so he could sell the valuable land to developers. He had crushed any resistance as swiftly and violently as deemed necessary to quell the fires of rebellion, leaving the townsfolk despondent and hopeless.

However, with Sonic’s arrival, a dash of democracy, a bit of physical persuasion, and a pinch of dumb luck, they’d driven the Mayor and his corrupt posse out.

The departure of the town’s prior leadership left Mirage defenseless from bandits and ruffians, and so the townspeople had bestowed him with the honor and responsibility that came with the sheriff’s badge. They had seen Sonic fight dozens of the Mayor’s lackeys single-handedly with supernatural speed and strength – and knew he alone could act as their defender. He had tried politely but firmly talking them out of it; there were others worthier of the position, he had argued in vain. At the end of the day, he was just a guy who loved adventure, someone who had been in the right place at the right time. He didn’t have the know-how, the skills, (or the wherewithal, though he kept this last tidbit to himself).

Ultimately, he couldn’t stomach their disappointment at his attempted rejection.

One week, he had decided. One week to find a new, better sheriff for the town of Mirage, then he’d be on his merry way.

Then one week turned into one month…which turned into three, nearing four.

He hadn’t been leaving a home or family behind. He had been alone all his life – which had suited him just fine, until it didn’t; until he realized what he’d been missing out on. The developing fondness he felt for the town and its welcoming citizens felt sudden and strange; but lifelong bonds were forged in battle, and now, he couldn’t deny the sense of comfort and belonging that burgeoned the longer he stuck around. Slowly but surely, Sonic had allowed himself to accept the reality of his situation:

This was his home.

And as daunting as the task of protecting his town could be at times, it was a mission that was beginning to feel less like a responsibility and more like a privilege.

The scream of the distant train whistle once again captured his attention, making Sonic pause in his contemplations. He sat up to squint in the direction of the noise. He could see the trail of billowing smoke but couldn’t see the locomotive itself, especially in the rapidly encroaching darkness.

He stretched his arms overhead with a pleasant thrum, rolling his shoulders free of any lingering stiffness, and stood. He usually stayed out longer to watch the stars, but there were railroad track repairs happening further north, and the supplies that sat overnight, sparsely guarded, had been attracting thieves and ne’er-do-wells that would then venture into Mirage. He needed to be on watch tonight for—

“Sheriff! Sonic!”

The blue hedgehog turned at his title and name, ears perking. A regular patron of their town’s bar – lovingly renamed Speedsters Saloon after Sonic’s brave efforts in rescuing Mirage – came stumbling up the dusty hill, huffing and puffing. Sonic zipped forward to save the goat further hassle, unintentionally sending him wheeling backwards. He steadied the stumbling Mobian with a firm hand to his forearm and laughed, “What’s up? Barkeep cut you off already? Ray clean ya out playin’ faro again?”

“Sheriff, there was a train robbery. We jus’ gotta telegraph.”

“Where?” Sonic demanded, demeanor instantly changing. His smarmy grin fell into a serious frown, looking to where the distant train whistle had drawn his focus.

“It was by the next town over. They sent a message warnin’ us the bandit’s still at large and was last seen headed in our direction.”

“Anyone hurt?”

The goat stuttered. “N-No, but—”

Sonic relaxed, but only marginally. “Okay, I’ll head over to the telegraph station. They probably sent a description—”

“They did, but sheriff, he’s—”

“—then keep a lookout. Don’t worry, if they’re in the area, I’ll find ‘em!”

“Sheriff,” the goat squeaked, “He’s at the saloon.”

Sonic pushed through the entrance’s swinging doors, vigilant gaze instantly locking on to the stranger seated at the bar, gleaning what he could from looks alone. Unfortunately, from his viewpoint, all he could see was the back of his long, black duster and a cluster of curved, red-striped ebony quills, perfectly coifed and settled beneath a wide-brimmed hat as sable as his fur.

The few patrons who hadn’t hightailed it for safety gave the newcomer a wide berth, murmuring worriedly to one another and staring. They collectively breathed a sigh of relief when Sonic entered.

“I reckon he looks jus’ like ‘ya,” the goat slurred, slipping in beside the sheriff.

“Why? ‘Cause we’re both hedgehogs?” Sonic deadpanned, making the Mobian’s flushed features brighten with embarrassment, “Our quills are completely different – as is our fur color. Now,” Sonic clasped him on the shoulder, making the skittish drunkard squeal. “I’ll go have a chat with him.”

Sonic’s spurs rang with each confident step he took forward. The stranger’s ear flicked back in brief acknowledgment of the law enforcer but otherwise remained unfazed. He didn’t bother to turn from where he faced the rustic liquor hutch built into the bar’s back wall. His gaze remained focused on his drink, taking a leisurely sip from the glass as Sonic came to stand beside him.

The sheriff glimpsed cunning crimson irises flick up to the hutch’s mirrored lining to inspect him, the pair’s eyes meeting briefly in the reflection. The moment stretched into what felt like hours as red met green, silently sizing the other up. Seemingly unimpressed, the stranger’s gaze returned to his whiskey, taking another casual sip. The unspoken, cocky dismissal made Sonic’s pride rampage in protest.

Now that he was beside him, Sonic immediately noted the holstered pistol on his left hip. There was also a barely perceptible crease in the faded canvas pants beneath his black leather chaps and gun belt: most likely a hidden knife.

While he took inventory of the stranger’s weapons, Sonic also noticed perilously razor claws protruding from fingerless leather gloves, a red stripe extending down his wrist from beneath his long-sleeved coat and ending at the tips of his two middle fingers. The razored points were certifiable weapons, themselves.

“How can I help you, sheriff?”

Sonic shuddered at the deep, raspy voice, then realized he had been blankly staring at his claws and quickly shifted his wide eyes to meet the stranger’s. Sonic’s interest didn’t go unnoticed, however. The bandit watched him with a dull, severe glower and sharp eyes made impossibly sharper with naturally winged, red fur outlining the edges.

“Howdy! New to town?” Sonic greeted cheerfully, clasping the dark hedgehog’s shoulder in a familial gesture, leaning close as if they were old, reunited pals. Despite his faux delight, his fingers dug into the other hedgehog’s shoulder, preventing any attempt at escape. “Gotta name?”

Sonic maintained his pointed grin while the outlaw stiffened beneath the touch, glancing languidly up from beneath the brim of his hat to pin Sonic with his glowing, burgundy irises. He took his time appraising the sheriff, starting at his red boots with their flashy gold spurs, up his long legs sheathed in blue canvas pants, up to his bluish-gray cotton shirt, sleeves rolled up to the elbow, then up to the garish, bright red bandana tied around his neck. Finally, his gaze landed on Sonic’s felt brown cowboy hat, a gaudy sheriff’s badge pinned to the front. His scrutinizing stare lingered a touch longer than seemed appropriate, before dragging all the way back down his body, like claws raking down a chalkboard, and returning his attention to his drink.

Sonic expertly concealed the jolt of apprehension that came as he was surveyed with alarming thoroughness, the harrowing promise found in the stranger’s glare only fueling his sense of foreboding.

“You wouldn’t happen to know anything about a nearby train robbery, would you?” Sonic inquired, setting an elbow on the counter and leaning casually into the stranger’s personal space, his palm still grasping his shoulder in a vice-like grip.

“I’ve no clue what you’re talking about,” the other hedgehog sneered, upper lip curling to reveal a gleaming fang. He brushed the sheriff’s hand off with a curt swipe that made his snout crinkle with annoyance. “Just passing through.”

Sonic’s eyes narrowed. With a cock of his eyebrow, he dragged his index along the back of the duster’s collar, making the stranger bare his fangs. The sheriff sardonically contemplated the tip of his glove, now sullied by coal dust and gunpowder. “No idea, huh?”

The smoldering glare he was met with told Sonic all he needed to know about the extent of this newcomer’s involvement with the robbery. “Thought so. I have a few more questions, if you wouldn’t mind coming with me.” Sonic nodded in the direction of the exit as he returned his hold onto the hedgehog’s soot-covered shoulder. Patience dissipated, the outlaw captured the offending wrist and squeezed hard, trying to pry him off. Sonic’s grip only tightened in response and, while trapped in their battle of attrition, the bandit slowly rose from his barstool. He faced the sheriff with a glare that was escalating from simmering to explosive.

“I do mind.”

As the situation spiraled, the remaining patrons – even the barkeep – fled out the front. Only the goat remained, his sense of survival apparently dulled by copious amounts of liquor.

“I came here to rest for one night,” the suspect continued, “I’ll be gone by tomorrow, and you’ll never see me again.”

“You’re definitely staying the night,” Sonic replied, “Unfortunately for you, it’ll be behind bars.” Each hedgehog’s grip on the other tightened. “Maybe you’re new to the whole criminal shtick, but breaking the law usually results in jail time.”

“This is a nice little town you have here, sheriff,” the outlaw drawled, spitting his title like a curse. His piercing eyes pointedly dragged over the mostly emptied bar and settled tellingly on the saloon doors before flicking back to the sheriff’s, who seethed, “It would be a shame if anything happened to these nice people…and nothing has to if you leave me alone.”

“Don’t threaten my town,” Sonic warned.

“Yeah!” The goat chirped, appearing with a stumble at Sonic’s elbow, raising his small fists with a haphazard lurch to the side. He really needed to stage an intervention for this guy, Sonic decided; it was barely seven in the evening and the boozehound was swaying like he was onboard a ship. “That’s Sheriff Sonic yer messin’ with!”

The black hedgehog raised his hackles in warning at the short Mobian. The goat squeaked and hopped behind his sheriff for protection. Sonic’s expression darkened, stepping in front of the Mobian and drawing the stranger’s gaze back to him. “Don’t,” he growled.

“‘Sonic’?” the outlaw sneered. Sonic’s leather gloves creaked as his fists clenched, eyes narrowing at the venomous malice with which his name was spoken. “I’ve heard of you.” He chuckled, the sound as haunting as it was derisive. “‘Sheriff Sonic, the Hero of Frontier Canyon.’ Cute.”

“If you’ve heard of me, then you’d probably realize it’s a good idea to surrender yourself now.”

“Just because I know who you are doesn’t mean I’m impressed by what I’ve heard.”

Offended, Sonic’s quills rose in an ominous display that did little to intimidate the outlaw.

“You’re just some bored city slicker looking for trouble,” he scoffed, “You don’t know what you’re getting yourself into.”

“Funny,” Sonic sneered, “I was about to say the same thing to you.”

“Let me go, hedgehog,” the stranger warned, palm brushing against the pistol holstered on his hip. Sonic’s attention moved to the weapon and the unspoken threat. “This isn’t a fight you’re going to win.”

The stranger’s eyes flicked down to Sonic’s own hip…and he barked out a cruel laugh. “What kind of law enforcer doesn’t carry a pistol?” he said with icy derision, only now bothering to note his lack of weapons, “Are you a pacifist? Or just plain stupid?”

“Neither,” Sonic grinned, though the expression failed to meet his eyes, “A pistol and holster would just slow me down. You’re looking at the fastest sheriff in the west. You don’t want to find out how fast.”

“Try me.”

“Alright, how about this: you come quietly, and I’ll give you the cell with a window. It’s got a real pretty view of the sunrise. Right, Billy?”

At the stranger’s bewildered look – who the hell was ‘Billy’? – Sonic’s grin widened as he stepped aside, revealing the cowering goat.

“R-Right,” Billy supplied nervously, eyes still glued to the bandit. He gnashed his fangs to startle him, spooking the drunkard bad enough to make him jump. Sonic instinctually planted himself once more between the two, impatiently grabbing the outlaw by the front of his shirt and driving him a few steps back.

The stranger eerily stilled, deliberately looking down at the hand fisted in his shirt before his glacial glare met Sonic’s arctic one.

“Thanks for your help, bud,” Sonic reassured his friend with a pleasant smile, eyes never leaving the outlaw’s. “But I can handle this.” The frightened goat smiled hesitantly as he crept toward the exit.

“S-Sure thing, Sheriff. Thanks, Sonic. You want me to fetch anyone?”

“Fetch the town coroner for your precious hero,” the bandit called, his jagged canines flashing. The comment finally ripped the last vestiges of Sonic’s patience away; he prided himself as being someone not easily rattled, sporting what some townsfolk referred to as a concerningly (though he liked to think it was a charmingly) blasé attitude. But the stranger’s arrogant demeanor, coupled with his thinly veiled threats, had finally worn his tolerance thin.

“Just get home safe, pal. I got it covered,” Sonic reassured him. The outlaw growled darkly at his unfounded certainty, the sound rippling through the depths of his chest. A matching rumble began in the blue hedgehog’s own throat.

Well?” Sonic said as the goat stumbled past the saloon doors, releasing his hold with a rough shove. “No distractions now. You gonna keep yappin’ or shoot me?”

“I’m more than happy to oblige your death wish,” the stranger snarled.

He whipped his pistol out of its holster and had a finger on the trigger in less than a second—

—but a second too slow.

He blinked at the empty space in front of him, wordlessly taken aback by the sheriff’s disappearance. How—?

“Yoo-hoo.”

The black hedgehog whirled around to level his weapon on the sheriff sitting on the bar counter behind him, obnoxiously feigning a yawn. His eyes narrowed at Sonic’s smarmy smile. “Gee, with all your blabbin’, I thought you could walk the talk,” the sheriff sneered, “You had me excited for a real challenge! Figures you’re full of it.”

A shot rang out, and the outlaw growled lowly as he watched his bullet rip a hole through the wooden liquor hutch behind where Sonic had been moments before, splinters sprinkling the dusty floorboards.

“Rude!” Sonic snipped behind him, cheesy grin spreading, “I don’t care if you waste your ammo, but quit shooting up our saloon—”

Another shot rang out, and while Sonic avoided it with a well-timed dodge to the side, there wasn’t nearly as much distance between him and his untimely demise as he would have liked.

A subsequent series of precise shots followed him as he dashed around the Speedsters Saloon, each bullet inching closer and closer as the stranger studied his movements and began to accommodate his aim to account for the sheriff’s speed. The last shot would have hit its mark dead center if Sonic hadn’t stopped on a dime. He watched as the bullet whizzed past a mere hair’s breadth away from the tip of his nose.

No more games.

Sonic spun sharply in place, barely able to duck beneath another shot that zipped overhead, and threw himself into the outlaw hard enough to knock both their hats off and send them flailing to the ground. The pistol went off right as Sonic grabbed his wrist and jerked it aside, hissing as the bullet narrowly missed him. He bashed the weapon-wielding hand into the ground until the bandit was forced to release it, the pistol sent skidding under one of the tables and prompting Sonic to release a premature, victorious “Ha!” His triumph was short-lived as he noticed the dagger the stranger pulled from his pocket and palmed.

Sonic threw himself backwards to avoid the blade that nearly swept across his throat, catching the outlaw’s wrists as he dove forward to plunge the knife into his chest. Sonic drove a knee up into his opponent’s abdomen, making him loosen his grip just enough to slap the dagger out of his hand and safely out of reach.

“All out of weapons,” Sonic panted as the outlaw kept him roughly pinned, the sheriff’s arms planted on either side of his head.

The stranger smirked menacingly, flexing his claws. Sonic’s eyes widened as the talons closed around his arms, poking through his sleeves’ fabric and digging into his flesh painfully.

Sonic pulled his legs in and planted the heels of his boots on the outlaw’s chest, launching him off with a powerful kick. He hissed as the stranger left stinging scratches, but watched in grim satisfaction as he was heaved off and sent tumbling along the floorboards, coming to an abrupt stop as he crashed into a table leg.

Sonic scrambled gracelessly to his feet to press his advantage. He shifted to leap forward – but paused as he looked up into the barrel of the stranger’s pistol.

Both their chests rose and fell rapidly with exertion. He cocked the hammer back, claw a mere twitch away from pulling the trigger. Without momentum, Sonic knew he had a slim chance of dodging the next bullet. So, he did what he did best: he talked.

“I’ll admit, you’re pretty good with that thing,” he cooed, nodding up at his gun. “You’re a good shot. I never could figure out how to aim. And trust me, I practiced a ton when I first got here. What can I say? It’s just not my thing. Now, gimme a lasso, and I have a fair chance—”

“Is there a point to your rambling?” the outlaw scoffed.

“I’m just sayin’…it’s too bad that without your little toys, you wouldn’t stand a chance against me.”

The outlaw bristled with indignance, glittering crimson eyes scanning the sheriff with an air of malevolence that convinced the blue hedgehog these were his final moments.

Then, to Sonic’s shock, his obvious ploy worked. The outlaw lowered the weapon. Without a word, he holstered it.

Sonic cautiously stood, picking up his cowboy hat and dusting it off. He watched his opponent for any sign of trickery. Instead, the outlaw walked calmly to the bar, picking up his own hat along the way, and unbuckled his gun belt to drape it over the counter.

“Never did get your name,” Sonic called, hanging his hat on a rack hook, rolling his neck and shaking out his arms and legs. He was already sore from the blows they’d thus far traded, but he’d be six feet under before he backed down from a fight.

“I never gave it,” the bandit dismissed, folding his duster and delicately placing the garment atop the counter beside where he placed his hat. It seemed the sheriff genuinely didn’t know who he was. Apparently, his wanted poster hadn’t made it this far south.

Good. That meant the feds didn’t know where he was yet.

Sonic watched as the outlaw methodically rolled his blouse sleeves up to his elbow, revealing that the broad, red stripe that ran down each hand’s two middle fingers continued up his forearm – a detail that drew Sonic’s attention back to those wicked claws.

But his stare widened as the stranger undressed further, rolling his leather vest from off his shoulders and shedding his partial gloves. He set the garments neatly atop his coat.

“Are your chaps going next?” Sonic sneered. “Just do me a favor and keep your pants on.”

“I don’t want your blood on my leather,” the black hedgehog sniffed, making Sonic’s mocking cheeriness dissolve, the sheriff sizzling at the cocky sureness of his explanation. “And I’m sure you bleed as much as you talk.”

“I’ll make you eat those words,” the sheriff growled, raising his fists and assuming a ready stance.

He had barely lifted his arms when the outlaw was on him. Dashing forward with speed that rivaled his own, Sonic was caught off guard with a flurry of devastating blows, only managing to dodge and block the first few strikes before he fell mercy to the onslaught. He grunted and held up his arms to shield his face as his head and torso were battered, leaving his abdomen open thanks to his sloppy defense. The stranger seized the opportunity without delay, lunging forward and slamming his knee into his vulnerable stomach. Sonic gagged as the wind was knocked out of him, then hissed as a second kick sent him flying into the wall. He connected with a crack, crumpling to all fours with a wheeze.

“You’re fast. But you’re weak,” the outlaw snarled, rolling his wrists to stretch the tendons made tight by the repeated punches. He approached the downed hero with an infuriatingly casual swagger. “Maybe if you spent less time running your mouth, you could put up a decent fight—”

He lurched back as Sonic planted his feet and dashed at him with a turbulent burst of speed that seemed to suck the air out of the room. He threw a cross hook into his tan muzzle that wiped the smug look clean off. The black hedgehog retained his footing despite the devastating surprise attack and kept his bearings enough to dip beneath a roundhouse kick, swiveling to try and swipe his rival’s feet out from beneath him. Sonic hopped over the attempted kick and slammed his knee into the outlaw’s chin, sending him careening across the saloon and crashing through a smattering of tables and chairs.

“What’s the matter? Suddenly not feeling so high and mighty?” Sonic taunted, rolling his shoulders back and raising his fists as his opponent stood from the wreckage of the bar’s furniture. Both pairs of eyes gleamed dangerously, dark red alive with sparking hostility and bright green boasting righteous fury. The stranger sprang forward the same moment Sonic decided to, the pair clashing in a lethal exchange of heavy blows that left Sonic dazed with each strike taken and giddy with each hit given.

He was having a blast.

He was no masochist – the blows that connected hurt, and he avoided all that he could. But the occasional criminal that crossed his path was in cuffs in seconds. Even when he and the townsfolk had driven out the Mayor and his lackeys, he hadn’t found much of a challenge in the dozens of ruffians he’d taken on.

This hedgehog alone fought with the might of a group twice their size, and no amount of pride could stop Sonic from admitting – to himself, he’d never say so out loud – that the outlaw was nearly as fast as him, too.

The combination speed and strength mirrored his own, and even more exciting, he had refined skills that kept Sonic from gaining the advantage. He outmatched him in speed, if only barely, but the outlaw had him beat in footwork.

So while they remained locked in a frustrating stalemate, neither able to keep the upper hand for longer than a few seconds, Sonic relished the opportunity to let loose.

But as much fun as he was having, he knew he had a job to do. So, when he glimpsed his opportunity to end the standoff, he took it.

The bandit was favoring his left arm. It was barely perceptible, and he still used either arm if he could sneak in a hit, but after a strike or block with his right, Sonic noticed the several subsequent attacks came from his left.

He feinted to the left, dodging a punch, before slipping over to the bandit’s right side and striking his arm with an exultant shout.

The outlaw gasped, hopping back and out of reach to give himself a moment’s reprieve to recover, but Sonic didn’t allow him the mercy. He sailed forward and struck his weakened limb again, and again, and again, fighting viciously to get the stranger to go down.

He refused, doing what little he could to block his right side and absorb blows with his left. Finally, the sheriff realized why and staggered back.

“Whoa! You’re bleeding!” Sonic declared, rather stupidly in hindsight, as though they both couldn’t see the blood stain growing through the hedgehog’s ripped sleeve. “Did I do that?”

“Tch. As if you could,” he fumed, trying to stem the injury’s steady flow with a useless press of his palm. The attempt only served to stain his hand red. “Bullet wound.”

“Bullet wound?!”

“It’s a graze,” he snapped, rolling his eyes at the comical overreaction, “Why else would I bother trying to stay overnight in this wretched hovel of a town?”

“Okay, first of all: rude. My town’s great. Secondly, I wouldn’t have beaten you so badly had I known you were injured.”

“You were far from beating me.” He didn’t comment on the irony of the sheriff’s apparent concern with his wellbeing after having an enthusiastic hand in worsening his condition. Instead, he sneered as Sonic’s muzzle paled at the sight of the spreading blood stain. “Squeamish, hedgehog?”

“No,” Sonic scoffed, “But what kind of sheriff would I be if I let you bleed out in my town?”

“I’m not going to—”

“Come on,” Sonic offered, extending a palm to his surprised foe, “Let’s get you patched up.”

He stared blankly at the offered hand, processing it with blatant befuddlement before his brows dropped into what Sonic was coming to understand was a habitual frown.

“How stupid do you think I am?” he thundered.

“…is that a trick question, or…?”

“Why would I let you help?”

“Well, that looks like it hurts, for starters.”

“You’ll have me in handcuffs the moment I lower my guard.”

“See, this is why I couldn’t be a criminal: all that paranoia can’t be good for your blood pressure.”

The stranger’s blank bemusement made Sonic smile before he could smother the expression. “How about this: I promise not to try and arrest you again until we get your arm wrapped up.” The blue hedgehog’s eager sincerity was as disarming as his sparkling eyes, regarding him like they hadn’t just been locked in fierce combat.

“Your promise means nothing to me,” the bandit snapped.

Sonic untucked his blouse and tore off a long strip from the edge, approaching the confused outlaw as he did so. “Hey, I’m the good guy. My word means something,” he laughed, closing the distance before he was met with protest and wrapping the cloth snuggly over the blood-soaked sleeve. He tied it tightly enough to momentarily stem the flow, making the outlaw flinch. Sonic’s fingers ghosted over his injured arm, a glimmer of concern passing over his softened features.

The expression – his worry – was infuriating.

“My promise means plenty,” he growled lowly, his husky snarl only then drawing Sonic’s attention to their proximity. The stranger leaned forward, his warm, sweet breath tickling his muzzle and sending an involuntarily shiver up Sonic’s spine. “And I promise that if you try anything funny, I’ll make sure there’s not enough left of you to fill a coffin.”

“Truly, I’m quaking in my boots,” Sonic replied, adding an eyeroll to showcase just how intimidated he was by the threat. “You can drop the machismo act, tough guy; kind of hard to take you seriously when you look like that.” 

The outlaw grabbed his bandana and wrenched him violently forward to draw his eyes back down, making the sheriff gasp sharply as their noses brushed. The involuntary inhale only drew in more of the bandit’s intoxicating scent, like fresh cinnamon and whiskey and something delightfully dark and musky—

“You talk too much,” he murmured. For a fraction of a moment, almost as imperceptible as his injured arm had been, the bandit’s eyes flicked down to Sonic’s lips. The sheriff gulped, making the seething glare return to its prior position as the bandit drank in his reaction.

“I get that a lot, if you can believe it,” Sonic gulped with a nervous grin.

They shared a long, tense moment where neither said nor did anything but share breath. Sonic desperately struggled to discern what between them had shifted – hurriedly tried to define the heat blooming low in his stomach. He was still angry, right? Yes, he thought. In fact, he was outraged: by the black hedgehog’s arrogance; his callous threats against his town, his friends…

So why was his heart beating so fast?

He shook free of the clawing confusion, failing to notice as the outlaw nearly closed the sparse distance left between their lips. He shoved his rival aside and sauntered past, motioning the annoyed bandit to follow. He paused by the bar counter and snagged his garments.

“Get your filthy hands off my—!”

“You didn’t want to get blood on your leather, right?” Sonic reminded him, glancing down deliberately at his bloodied hands. He tossed him a wink, then a charming smile that made the other hedgehog physically flinch.

Bafflingly enough, the outlaw didn’t argue further. The rapid blood loss was probably a primary motivator for accepting Sonic’s help, but it still gave him a suspicious amount of relief that the bandit followed him willingly. He definitely wasn’t going to think too long about that.

Patch him up, Sonic told himself, then slap the cuffs on.

Then get back to his nice, quiet, boring life on the range.

As they sat face-to-face amidst the saloon’s destruction, knees nearly touching as Sonic focused diligently on sanitizing and wrapping his arm, the sheriff thanked whatever heavenly entities felt like listening that no one was around to question his motives. The townspeople weren’t cruel; if they knew the outlaw was seriously injured, they would have happily jumped at the opportunity to do as Sonic was doing. It was one of the main reasons he loved Mirage and its inhabitants: they would drop everything to help a complete stranger, even a crook like the one currently staring down his nose at him.

But Sonic didn’t believe he was doing this entirely for selfless reasons, and he wanted to avoid thinking too long and hard about what his actual reasons were.

“Shadow,” the outlaw suddenly proclaimed.

“Huh?” Sonic grunted, drifting out of his musings and meeting the other hedgehog’s indecipherable expression.

“You asked for my name. It’s Shadow.” It was only a matter of time before the sheriff learned his identity, anyway. And by then, he would be long gone.

“Oh, um, nice to meet you. …Kind of. …Not really. I’m Sonic. But I guess you already knew that, heh. ‘Sheriff Sonic, the Hero of Frontier Canyon’ and all.”

He rolled his eyes so hard, Sonic was afraid he was going to tear an optical nerve.

They returned to a tense silence, though Sonic debated the origin of the tension. It could have been the brawl they had nearly continued while arguing outside the jail: the outlaw convinced the sheriff was trying to trick him into a cell while Sonic was adamant they were only there because that’s where his first aid kit was. They had eventually compromised, however, with Sonic retrieving the medical kit and the unlikely duo returning to the saloon. The single road that ran up the center of the town had been blissfully empty as they made their trek between the bar and jail and back; Sonic didn’t feel like explaining to any of his friends why he had yet to arrest the bandit. He hardly knew why himself.

The tension also could have come from Sonic’s panicked reaction when the outlaw had pulled off his bloodied shirt, revealing a long, taut torso and a patch of silky, white chest fur that made Sonic babble in protest. They had compromised then, too, Shadow putting his blouse back on and ripping off the tattered right sleeve so the sheriff could bandage the wound without...well, Sonic still didn’t want to think too hard about why he cared so much about the bandit’s decency. His reaction had been noted, though thankfully, not commented on.

“Not that it’s any of your concern,” Shadow continued, “But I didn’t rob a passenger train.”

“Someone’s suddenly chatty,” Sonic teased, “So, what, did a cactus shoot you?”

“It was a military freight train – an armed one.”

“Right, because attacking soldiers instead of civilians makes it way better.”

“No one was hurt. Not seriously, anyway.”

“How reassuring,” the sheriff scoffed. “Hate to break this to you, pal, but the kind of train it was doesn’t matter. Still illegal and still gonna get you jail time.” Before Shadow could reiterate that he, in fact, had no intentions of serving time, Sonic interrupted with a sigh: “There.”

Shadow’s attention shifted from where he watched Sonic’s eyes and slid over to his right arm, cleaned and wrapped tightly with fresh bandages. He rolled and stretched the limb while Sonic rose and tossed the stained towels he’d used to curb the bleeding. Although it still ached, the sharp throb from the graze had dulled considerably.

“Since doc’s out of town on a house call, that’ll have to be good enough for now,” Sonic explained, taking his seat again with a thrum. His gaze strayed back obliviously to the criminal’s arm, drifting down to his claws. Only after the black hedgehog cleared his throat did Sonic come to the humiliating realization that he’d been staring. Again. He hopped up, toppling his chair and standing awkwardly. “Welp!” he managed to chirp, turning his head to look at something else, anything else, other than the criminal. He debated the best way to cuff him without venturing too close – he wasn’t confident he could avoid hurting Shadow further if they fought again. Now, as to why he cared? Just another inquiry to add to the growing list of questions he really didn’t want to think about.

The perceptive outlaw easily read between the lines of the sheriff’s debilitating unease: it denoted an interest Sonic had unwittingly expressed multiple times throughout their encounter; and fortunately, Shadow decided, it was an interest he could take full advantage of.

The creak of aged wood echoed in the quiet space as the bandit leaned back in his seat, surveying Sonic closely. The blue hedgehog’s chest constricted the longer his rival stared, mouth suddenly achingly dry. The outlaw settled one hand on the arm of the chair…and the other draped over his dark inner thigh, immediately and embarrassingly causing Sonic’s eyes to follow the movement.

“Well? Are you going to do it?”

Sonic gulped. “Excuse me?”

“Arrest me,” Shadow clarified with a faint smirk.

“Oh, uh, well, yes, I…”

“You don’t seem the type to get tongue-tied, sheriff.”

“Yeah, well,” Sonic muttered with a weak chuckle. The laughter died in his throat as Shadow leaned forward. His elbows rested on his knees, pinning him with a breezy, analytical look over interlaced, steepled fingers. How he managed to continue to effortlessly command the room from his seat was a marvel, and did nothing to loosen the knot that clenched in Sonic’s stomach.

“I’ve had a long day,” Shadow admitted, his intense ruby eyes bearing into Sonic’s, “So I’ll cut to the chase.”

“Change of heart, huh? Going to come quietly?”

“Not quite,” he drawled. “You’re not going to arrest me and I’m sleeping here one night, as I said before.”

“Is that so?”

“And you’re going to join me.”

Sonic didn’t register what the outlaw was insinuating at first, but when the suggestion struck him, he gawked openly before he had the sense to compose himself.

“Is that what you think?” he scoffed, crossing his arms in what he hoped came across as casual – and not as a pathetic excuse to try and keep his heart from banging out of his chest.

The nerve of this guy.

Because Sonic was a lot of things, but he wasn’t stupid; he could see Shadow’s plan clear as day:

Seduce him and escape.

Even with this understanding, the way the thought made his knees nearly buckle was completely unfair.

Fine. Two could play at that game.

Shadow let his palms drop to his knees, shifting to stand and stroll towards him. Sonic felt the treacherous flush coloring his peach cheeks deepen a shade with each step the outlaw took closer. Game or not, there was no denying the outlaw’s intimidating aura, like a coyote cornering a jackrabbit.

He hooked his index claw into the collar of his red bandana, barely applying any force to the garment as Sonic naturally gravitated forward, lured in by the torrid promise in his fiery gaze.

“Spend the night with me.”

Sonic scrambled for a response that didn’t betray the internal battle waging between his desire and his common sense. “Look, you seem like a nice enough guy—”

“I’m not.”

“—and you probably mean well—”

“I don’t.”

“—and maybe you had a good reason to rob that train, uh, freight train—”

“One night,” Shadow interrupted, Sonic grunting as his back collided with the wall he hadn’t registered the outlaw had been backing him into. His quills bristled defensively as his rival’s lips caressed his burning muzzle, pushing close and eliminating any remaining semblance of space Sonic had unconsciously tried to maintain. “Then you’ll never see me again. That alright with you?”

“I’ll give you credit,” Sonic murmured, releasing a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding in as he spoke. “This is the most creative way someone’s tried to get out of being arrested.”

“You’re not going to arrest me,” Shadow repeated, pressing a deceptively soft kiss to Sonic’s neck that made little stars glitter in his peripherals. “If you were,” he whispered, his hot breath like a branding iron on Sonic’s already searing fur, “You would have done so alrea—”

Click.

His eyes narrowed to slits as he felt the cold metal of the handcuffs slide into place over his wrists. Sonic’s purposely enamored look faded, eyes brightening and adopting the predatory gleam that left Shadow’s.

“I gotta admit,” Sonic purred, Shadow’s quills puffing up aggressively at his mocking tone, “You almost had me convinced.”

Sonic pressed forward, crooked finger lifting Shadow’s chin to smile boisterously in his face. “Almost—eep!”

Shadow wrested his chin away with a snarl, lurching forward and gnashing his fangs as he tried to take a chunk out of the sheriff. Sonic slipped aside, letting the detained outlaw slam harmlessly into the wall. “I don’t know why you’re so mad,” Sonic sniffed, taking up position in front of the exit as Shadow turned and assessed him coldly, his façade of zealous warmth melting away, “You started it. And after I was nice enough to keep you from bleeding out!”

“Shut up and uncuff me,” he hissed.

“Keys are right here,” Sonic simpered, raising his metal key loop and dangling it tauntingly at his foe. “All you have to do is come and take them—”

Sonic jerked back as Shadow appeared in front of him. He hadn’t seen him move; one second he was by the far wall, and the next he was right in front of—

Shadow snatched the loop between his teeth, sharp canines bared as he ripped the keys from the sheriff’s loosened grasp. Sonic watched in awe as the outlaw did it again – simply disappeared and reappeared a short distance away.

There was no way he was that fast.

“How are you—what are you—?”

“What’s the matter, sheriff?” Shadow huffed around the metal ring still clamped in his mouth, using his dexterous tongue to single out his cuff’s key – which was easy, there were only three keys on the loop and the other two were too big to fit – and jamming it into the handcuff’s lock, twisting his head to the side to turn the key in its housing. Sonic shook away his astonishment and dashed forward to try and stop him.

Click.

Shadow raised his fists as he freed himself and caught Sonic, driven back a mere step before hurling the sheriff and his handcuffs away with a fierce roar. Sonic grunted as he landed harshly on his side and skidded into the corner of the bar, wincing upon impact. Shadow appeared in a flash of light above him, taking his time collecting his belongings off the counter while savoring the consternation on his rival’s features.

“How are you doing that?!” He went to stand, but was met with a boot to his chest and knocked onto his back. A contemptuous smirk slowly spread across Shadow’s lips as he leaned his full weight onto the sheriff, making him huff and clasp onto his ankle to try and sling him off.

“Afraid you’re not the ‘fastest sheriff in the west’?” he intoned.

“You’re fast, but you’re not that fast. I don’t know what you’re up to, or how you’re doing that—”

Shadow knelt on one knee, only moving his boot off the other hedgehog’s chest once he had a firm grip on his jaw, leering down at him.

“And you never will. By the way,” the bandit purred, leather glove scraping against his muzzle’s sensitive fur as he wrenched him closer. Sonic glowered wordlessly, snout wrinkling in disdain at the outlaw—

—who yanked him forward into a harsh kiss, their teeth clacking uncomfortably as Sonic’s jaw fell open in surprise. But as Shadow tilted his head to better align their mouths, taking advantage of the sheriff’s momentary shock to playfully flick his tongue with his own, Sonic’s traitorous body responded in kind without further encouragement. His desire to ferociously shove Shadow off was superseded by the thrill of his overwhelming taste: dark like barrel-aged bourbon; smoky like a campfire; bitter like black coffee.

He was delicious.

But just as his body betrayed him and he gave in entirely to the exhilarating embrace, Shadow pulled away, a final, whispered reassurance making Sonic’s heart thunder against his ribcage:

“My offer was genuine. A pity. So long, sheriff.”

And just as he’d done moments before, the black hedgehog blinked out of view in a halo of mysterious light; the image of his knowing, lopsided smirk burned into Sonic’s retinas by the flash.

Sonic stared, slack jawed and furious. A trembling hand rose, fingers tracing his throbbing lower lip, while he gaped at the empty space where the outlaw had disappeared. He didn’t know what made him madder: the crook’s successful escape, the little disappearing act that allowed him to do so, or how much he ached to continue that kiss.

There was one thing he did know amidst his maelstrom of uncertainty: he wasn’t going to rest until he had Shadow the Hedgehog in handcuffs.

Chapter Text

A radiant flash preceded a crack like dry lightning that echoed throughout the barren valley. Shadow touched down on the wavy red sand of a dune’s crest, gazing over his shoulder at the small town he’d left behind – at the sheriff he’d left lying on the floorboards of the saloon.

He huffed and stepped down the slippery hill to where he’d tied his horse’s reins to the low-hanging branch of a mesquite tree, near a stream that trickled over a flat, rocky riverbed, green brush and brittle grass dotting its banks. The animal’s ear flicked back in acknowledgement of its rider but continued grazing. He tossed his vest and gun belt over the branch, shrugging out of his ruined shirt. Patting his horse’s flank in amicable greeting, Shadow walked around to his saddlebag and withdrew a canteen, slaking his thirst with a long, needy draught.

While considering his next move, his gaze flicked down to his wrapped arm. The sheriff had been inexplicably diligent in tending to him. The sheriff: with his odd northern accent; his cocky, borderline arrogant attitude; his ceaseless prattling…

…his striking azure pelt, his eyes—

Shadow doused the back of his neck with the rest of the canteen’s water, an attempt to cool off from his straying thoughts. Even while admonishing himself for his unproductive fixation, he withdrew his emerald from his pocket, turning the gemstone so its facets sparkled in the hazy blue moonlight. The enthralling shimmer of the jewel he had stolen mere hours before had been the most captivating sight he had ever seen – and its discovered power of instantaneous travel had been more intoxicating than any liquor the bandit had ever poured down his throat.

But now, the damn emerald did nothing but remind him of the sheriff’s green irises: like smooth, frosted sea glass to match the blue, oceanic hue of his fur.

What was intended to be a brazen distraction, he realized bitterly, had devolved into authentic yearning. His stomach coiled tightly at the memory of the sheriff besting him throughout their fight, giving as good as he got. His chest constricted painfully thinking of their kiss – faster and sloppier than he would have preferred, but a spur of the moment manifestation of the intrigue that had consumed him from the moment he met those eyes.

Shadow released an annoyed sigh, pocketing the emerald and fishing out a new shirt from his bag.

What had he been thinking?

But that was the problem.

He hadn’t been thinking.

He had, as he often did, acted purely on impulse.

No more distractions, Shadow scolded himself, condemning any future thoughts about certain blue hedgehogs to the recesses of his mind.

If he ever wanted revenge, he couldn’t afford them.

His deft claws buttoned up his fresh cotton blouse with finality, purposely not letting his gaze wander back to his bandaged arm.

A train whistle, sharp and inviting, sounded over an adjacent ridge and drew the outlaw’s attention. His eyes scanned the horizon for the source of the sound, gaze narrowing until a second whistle alerted him to the locomotive’s location due north.

He donned the rest of his gear, then untied his steed’s reins. He hoisted himself up into the saddle and clicked his tongue to redirect the horse’s attention. He lightly pressed his heels to its sides, and with a powerful snort, it began a leisurely trot that exploded into a full-on gallop at the prompting of its rider, clouds of sand and grit left in their wake.

No more distractions.

Sonic spent the rest of the evening cleaning up the saloon and silently fuming. He could have pointed the finger at any number of reasons for his ire, but sitting pretty at the top of the current list were the final, baffling, aggravating words the outlaw had left him with:

“My offer was genuine.”

He released a short huff as he took inventory of furniture that would need replacing and pockmarked walls that would need plastering. Focus, he chastised himself, righting an upended table and picking up the shattered remnants of a chair he had thrown the outlaw into.

He wanted Shadow in handcuffs more than was probably strictly for professional reasons.

But he had a town to protect and friends that relied on him. He had made promises. He had responsibilities, duties, obligations. He couldn’t run off at the slightest hint of adventure, no matter how intriguing the prospect.

Besides, what chance did he stand against someone who could disappear and reappear on a whim? Hard as Sonic had tried, he had been – and would probably continue to be – wholly unprepared for handling him. How could he possibly capture a villain as corporeal as a wisp of smoke? He’d have an easier time wrangling a ghost.

His lips were plenty corporeal…

Sonic threw his head back with a suffering groan and kicked the broken pieces of another smashed chair into a growing trash pile, diligently ignoring the searing blush that marred his muzzle.

He needed to let the proper authorities handle it.

He needed to forget about him.

He needed to forget the only Mobian who had come close to matching his strength and speed; the only Mobian who had matched him tit for tat in a fight—

Who was he kidding?

“‘My offer was genuine,’” Sonic muttered mockingly under his breath as he ventured toward the back wall to retrieve his hat from where he’d hung it before their brawl. “Yeah, right.” For the simple reason that he still felt the other hedgehog’s stupid, supple lips claiming his, still saw the stupid, handsome smirk that effortlessly curved over menacing fangs, he knew it was a stupendously stupid idea to pursue him.

Besides, he reiterated to himself, the outlaw’s confounding offer to spend the night together had been little more than a ruse. It had been a deceitful ploy to escape arrest—

—right?

Sonic clenched his teeth, trying to focus on anything other than the mysterious black hedgehog. He dusted off his cowboy hat and settled it atop his head, adjusting it so his ears poked out through the accommodating slots in the brim. His gaze roved the saloon for any remaining damage, and as he surveyed the tidied bar, his eyes skimmed over where a bullet had torn a chunk out of the massive, intricately carved liquor hutch. He made a mental note to ask and see if one of their neighboring towns had a woodworker that could fix it.

During his final checks, the glint of steel near the back storage room drew his attention. He stepped forward to investigate, wincing when fresh pain blossomed in his ribs upon kneeling down. The outlaw had done more of a number on him than he cared to admit. Still laying where Sonic had knocked it away was Shadow’s dagger. He picked it up, admiring the curved, obsidian blade and the glossy wooden handle. If he ever needed a reminder why he shouldn’t have lingering thoughts about the outlaw, the weapon he’d nearly had his throat slit with should have been enough.

…Should have been.

He pocketed the blade carefully and, with a pensive glance over the saloon, exited out the front. The sun was already peaking over Frontier Canyon’s distant mountain peaks, painting the pink atmosphere with streaks of orange. The melodic thrum of mourning doves helped usher in the peaceful morning. The air’s brisk coolness bit at his skin with a welcome nip, especially inviting since he knew that the rising of the sun would bring an oppressive, sweltering heat.

Sonic took the first step into the road to head to the telegraph station and report his encounter with the outlaw – but paused when he saw a familiar postman ambling up the road, humming cheerily to himself. Sonic waved.

“Heya, Big!”

“Hi, sheriff.” The friendly purple cat gave him a smile as wide as his stature, rifling through his satchel as he approached. “I have something for you.”

“For me?” Sonic never got mail. Anyone that would send him a letter was right here in Mirage.

Big pulled a stack of parchment from his bag, handing off a bundle of wanted posters before continuing down the road with a chipper wave goodbye.

Sonic was too distracted to wish him safe travels, instead standing dumbfounded in the dusty road as he stared at the stack.

Glaring up at him was a detailed sketch of the outlaw he had just fought. The warning's bold letters broadcast the caliber of criminal he had fought that evening, and who he had incidentally let escape:

Wanted by the United Federation

Dead or Alive

Shadow the Hedgehog

Dangerous and Heavily Armed

Bank Robbery

Train Robbery

Stagecoach Robbery

Reward $50,000.00

Fifty thousand dollars?!

What all had this hedgehog been stealing?!

Okay, Sonic thought, so maybe, in hindsight, I shouldn't have kissed him—or let him kiss me?—or kiss back—

"Excuse me? Sheriff?"

Sonic jumped with a yip and whipped around to face two familiar townsfolk, posters scattering into the dusty road as he startled. Ray quickly squawked an apology while Mighty laughed good-naturedly.

"I-I'm sorry! I didn't mean to—" the flying squirrel cried, rushing around in frantic circles collecting the dispersed parchment.

"It’s all good," Sonic reassured him with a chuckle, the laugh more of a wheeze. He shifted to pin the last poster beneath his boot, defying the wind that nearly picked it up and sent it soaring off into the desert on an updraft. He clutched his chest while his pounding heart returned to a steady beat. He couldn’t pinpoint whether his reaction was owed to being snuck up on, or from concentrating far too long and hard on the sketch. The artist had managed to capture Shadow’s proud, haughty nature to such an alarming degree that Sonic had a hard time focusing on the very important detail that he was admiring a hedgehog with a wanted dead or alive poster. …But he digressed.

“What’s up, guys?”

“B-Billy just told us about what happened at the saloon last night, sheriff!”

“Just now?” Sonic repeated with a snort.

“He was passed out,” Mighty sighed, “We just found’m, otherwise we would’ve come sooner to help.”

Sonic shook his head, unable to help an amused upturn of his lips. They really needed to stage an intervention for that old goat.

“You alright?” the armadillo continued, motioning at his battered frame. Scratches marked his arms from where Shadow had dug his claws in, visible through tears in the sleeves.

“Don’t worry about it,” the sheriff reassured them, “I had it handled.”

“Clearly,” Mighty retorted, his tan, funnel-shaped ear flicking back and, once again, nodding at his general state of dishevelment.

“Trust me, you should see the other guy.”

“Hopefully we never do again.”

“Right…”

Sonic glanced down at the poster again, chewing on his decision.

His lingering pain from their brawl, his confounding attraction, his decision to let those better suited to the task handle this situation…all evaporated when faced with the reality of what harm the criminal could eventually bring to unsuspecting civilians; what havoc he could wreak if left unchecked.

What remained was a determination to fix his mistake in letting the bandit escape.

Maybe he was just a glorified thief – a good one, admittedly, with a bounty that high – but how long until someone innocent got caught in the crossfire?

He had to help bring him in.

“You’re going after him,” Mighty guessed, crossing his arms while Ray wrung his hands together nervously.

Sonic smiled sheepishly and brought his palms up placatingly. “You caught me. So, with that being the case, I could use your guys’ help. Since I’ll be gone—”

“—you want us to hold down the fort?” Mighty finished.

“Bingo,” Sonic grinned.

“We should be able to manage.” The armadillo playfully elbowed Ray and set a paw atop his head, ruffling the yellow squirrel’s cowlick tuft of fur. Ray frowned despite the playful gesture.

“But you’ll be back, sheriff, won’t you?” the young Mobian whimpered.

“Absolutely! I’m only leaving to help catch that crook. No way it takes me longer than a couple of days to find him and bring him in.”

“We’ll send word to the neighboring towns, too,” Mighty decided, “Let’m know what’s goin’ on. Maybe somebody can head him off, give you a chance to catch up. Where you plannin’ on startin’ your search?”

Sonic winked. “I’ve got an idea of where he might be heading.”

He stopped by the town’s general store to stock up on a few days’ worth of supplies for his trip north. He figured with the railroad track repairs well underway in that region, and the rampant criminal activity that had flourished near that poorly managed and sparsely guarded section of tracks – budget cuts, the county official had claimed – that there was a high likelihood Shadow felt right at home in those parts.

Unfortunately, what was supposed to have been a quick drop-in had swiftly become an ordeal.

“I promise’m fine,” Sonic mumbled, letting Amy Rose grasp his furry cheeks and inspect him closely to assuage her concerns. She turned him every which way in her search for injuries, making sure the dawn’s low lighting wasn’t concealing anything more serious.

He cherished Amy – he really did. She was one of the kindest, most nurturing and most strong-willed Mobians he had ever had the pleasure of meeting, and he was lucky to call her a close friend – but she also had a tendency to be a tad overprotective.

As evidenced by his presently being scolded. “I saw the wanted poster!” she cried. “An outlaw with a fifty thousand dollar bounty?! ‘Dangerous and heavily armed’?! You’re lucky you’re alive!” She lightly smacked his arm, making him yelp and hop back to try and escape her reach as she reared back for a second smack. “What were you thinkin’, takin’ on a bandit like that by yourself?”

“Hey, whoa, have some faith in your beloved sheriff,” Sonic chastised playfully, capturing Amy’s wrists and tenderly setting them back at her sides. “I’ll have you know that I totally kicked his a—ah! Hey there!”

Vanilla cleared her throat as she and her daughter entered the room, interrupting the blue hedgehog with an amused smile. Cream dashed forward and threw herself into the laughing law enforcer’s arms, squeezing tight. “Mister Sonic!”

“Sheriff, my dear,” Vanilla gently corrected her, handing the hedgehog his freshly stocked satchel.

“Aw, don’t worry about it, Mister suits me just fine,” Sonic grinned, gratefully accepting the bag and slinging it over his shoulder. He patted the top of Cream’s head. “How you doin’, kiddo?”

The little rabbit’s lower lip wobbled, her small, trembling paws grasping his vest and burying into the leather. “Mama said you’re leavin’ on a trip,” she pouted, making Sonic’s ears droop with sympathy. “But you’re going to be back, aren’t you?”

“Of course,” Sonic replied earnestly, gripping her shoulder and giving it a comforting squeeze. “Couple of days at most.”

Cream’s lips twitched down into a somber frown, nodding her understanding but still far from reassured.

“Darling, didn’t you have something to give Sheriff Sonic for his trip?” Vanilla prompted.

“Oh!” Cream released him and fished through the pocket of her dress. She timidly set her gift in his large palm, petting one of her long, floppy ears as she anxiously waited to see his reaction. He admired the braided twine bracelet with an appraising whistle, playing with the cords that allowed him to adjust the size. “Wow! You made this?”

“Mhm. It’s a good luck charm,” she explained shyly, lip quivering as she tried to stay brave despite her worries – tried to keep concerned tears from rolling down her cheeks. She may not have fully understood what kind of danger the outlaw presented, only that there was some sort of danger involved. “It’ll keep you safe.”

“It sure will,” Sonic agreed, touched. He immediately slipped it over his glove and onto his wrist, fastening it with a pull of the cords, then guided the little girl into an affectionate hug. She returned it as tightly as her thin arms could manage.

“You promise you’ll be safe?” Cream reiterated. Amy and Vanilla exchanged sad smiles.

“Pinky promise,” Sonic stated, offering the aforementioned digit to the little girl. She eagerly clasped it with her own, giggling as he gave it a firm, playful shake. 

“Sheriff!”

The group turned as Ray barreled in, the blue hedgehog instinctually stepping forward to stay between the ladies and any impending danger. “Sonic,” he squeaked, “The outlaw’s struck again. Telegraph station just got word from up north—!”

“Where?” Sonic asked brusquely.

Ray handed off the note with the nearest town’s name and the area’s description. “The witness reported it less than ten minutes ago. If you’re quick—”

Sonic laughed brightly. “Come on, Ray, it’s me,” he snickered. “Being ‘quick’ is kind of my thing.”

“Please be careful, sheriff,” Amy pleaded, “Maybe take some back-up?”

“Sorry. We’re on a time crunch, and no one could keep up.” It was a statement of fact rather than a boast: not even their fastest horse could keep pace with him.

He stretched his arms overhead and hopped from foot to foot, warming up. He handed off his bag of supplies to the flying squirrel with a bright, confident smile at the group. He winked at the young rabbit, who finally offered a tiny, hopeful smile. “Looks like I’ll be back in time for lunch. Don’t wait up!”

It took him less than ten minutes to reach his destination: a section of track that ran parallel with the one under repair.

He followed the telegraph’s description until the locomotive’s billowing plumes of smoke became visible. 

As he caught up with and raced alongside the speeding train, he glimpsed the reporting mark and confirmed what he suspected:

United Federation.

He used the stirrup step to hoist himself onto the caboose’s rattling platform, then passed through the unlocked door into the back cabin.

Sonic nearly tripped over a groaning Mobian immediately upon entering. He kneeled down, hands hovering unsurely over the victim's chest. He didn’t see any bullet wounds, just a black eye. “You alright, pal?”

“Y-You’re under arrest…”

“Sorry, nope, wrong hedgehog. You hang out, I’ll go grab him for ‘ya, though.”

From the caboose, all he had to do was follow the trail of unconscious or barely cognizant agents through the freight cars. He checked on everyone he passed, grateful to find that, other than a gnarly headache or a nasty bruise, the agents weren’t going to suffer any lasting injuries. He remained hyper-vigilant as he hopped over each of the couplers connecting the jostling cars and worked his way toward the front of the locomotive. He peeked in through the door of the final freight car and grinned when he caught a glimpse of black and carmine quills.

Shadow was readying to wedge the ground claw of his steel crowbar into a crack in a sealed, wooden cargo container when Sonic swung the door wide open and piped up: “Looks like your arm’s doing better!”

The outlaw stiffened momentarily, crowbar hovering just shy of its target. He gritted his teeth and shook his head. “Of all places,” he muttered to himself with an irritated sigh, glancing over his shoulder to confirm who had found him again.

There, preening in all his heroic glory, was the sheriff. He had the gall to wiggle his fingers in greeting and call, “How’s it goin’?”

"You again," Shadow snarled. He calmly set the crowbar down, not bothering to reach for his pistol. He shoved his sleeves up past the elbow.

"Me again," Sonic sang-song with a smug grin, "Bet you weren't expecting to see—”

Shadow lunged forward and grabbed him roughly by the throat. He swung him inside and thrust him into the wall beside the exit, strong enough that he kept the sheriff aloft with a single, powerful hand, his boots dangling uselessly off the floor. The bandit kicked the door shut and locked it, wary of any feds who might decide to foolishly reattempt his capture.

"How did you find me?!" he demanded.

"You're not what I'd call discreet," the sheriff coughed, twisting the outlaw's wrist in retaliation for the painful grip on his windpipe. Shadow didn’t budge, however, and Sonic gasped as his claws cinched tighter. “You and I have unfinished business,” he wheezed. “I got a set of handcuffs with your name on ‘em.”

The bandit laughed callously, casting a critical eye over the law enforcer. “You must be joking.”

“Serious as sin,” he gagged, toes of his boots kicking out to try and connect with his aggressor and free himself.

"Are you sure that's the business you came here to finish?" Shadow wondered aloud. He dropped Sonic, who staggered and gasped in a breath. His hand remained planted firmly against the blue hedgehog’s chest, razor claws trailing back up his throat to cradle his muzzle with deceptive geniality before he pinched his chin and forced their eyes to lock.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Sonic replied sardonically, trying to pull out of the other’s grasp, green eyes luminous with disdain.

Shadow’s burgundy irises flicked down, tracing every minute detail of the other hedgehog’s lips. The shameless admiration made Sonic swallow thickly. He watched carefully, though remained purposely unresponsive to the bandit’s touch, as his claw ventured back down his neck, down his torso—

—and hooked into his belt loop, tugging him forward and off the wall. The outlaw’s other hand captured his lower back and dragged him flush. His penetrating gaze met the sheriff’s surprised one with a challenging gleam, irises like crushed crimson velvet, and just as soft and inviting.

It took every ounce of his self-restraint, but Sonic successfully resisted the urge to abandon his mission, to lose himself in the heady desire to continue what they'd started in the saloon.

With his impressive amount of self-control (if he did say so himself), the blue hedgehog yanked Shadow's hand from off his belt and tossed it away, stepping back and out of reach. To his bemusement, the bandit let him go without a fight.

"You're wanted by the United Federation,” Sonic announced, hating how weak and tinny his voice initially came out.

"Yes," Shadow sniffed, rolling his eyes as he turned away and sauntered back to the crate.

"These are their freight trains you've been robbing.”

"Observant. I see why your little town made you sheriff."

Sonic ignored the jab, following close behind as the outlaw retrieved the dropped crowbar and sized up the cargo container. “I'm guessing it's the same with the stagecoaches? Federal property, right? And the banks—?”

"The banks I rob just for fun," the outlaw deadpanned. If the comment was meant as a joke, it wasn’t a very good one, Sonic decided, considering he couldn’t tell.

"You have a bounty on your head for fifty thousand dollars.” Sonic intercepted Shadow as he went for the crate again.

"Ah, so the reward’s gone up," Shadow rasped, expertly feigning a lack of concern and shoving past his rival when he tried to step between him and his goal. “Is there a point you’re eager to make, hero, or you just feel like stating the obvious?”

“‘Hero’? That’s new,” Sonic snickered, “I prefer sheriff, though. You’re targeting the United Federation. Why?”

Shadow jammed the crowbar between a gap and shimmied it into place. Sonic was on him in an instant, snatching his wrist and hauling him back. "Hey, you—!"

The black hedgehog whirled around and wrenched his hand away. He abandoned the crowbar in its housing and advanced on his officious foe, poking an aggressive index into the other’s chest.

“Let me make myself perfectly clear,” Shadow growled, hackles inching up. Sonic huffed indignantly and, at his stubborn refusal to back down, the bandit snatched his bright red bandana and yanked him close to try and illicit a reaction. The average westerner would have trembled in his hold, but Sonic lifted his chin defiantly. “I’m tolerating your presence right now because I find it entertainin’ how badly you want to be the one to capture me. But the moment you cease to amuse me—”

"I could care less about being the one to bring you in, so long as you’re stopped.”

“But it’s a hefty reward, isn’t it?" Shadow hissed, dark irises gleaming with furor and jostling his rival with a brutal shove. “What would you do with the money?”

“You got me all wrong, pal,” Sonic argued, scowling softly at his suggestion. “I don’t care about—”

“Retire? Buy yourself some acreage? Or maybe you'd rather go back to city-livin', find a nice little high-rise apartment?"

"I don't care about the money," Sonic reiterated with a growl, "I care about—”

“Noble,” Shadow sneered, “If I believed you.”

“I care about stopping you from hurting anyone else,” Sonic hissed before he could be interrupted again.

“I haven’t hurt anyone.”

“The federal agents I passed on the way here would beg to differ.”

“I haven’t hurt anyone who wasn’t asking for it,” the black hedgehog clarified flippantly. Sonic puffed up in agitation, fur rising and quills stiffening. Shadow ignored his pitiful attempt at a threatening display. “Fine. If not money, then you want something else. Sorry to disappoint, but I don’t have time to explore whatever fantasies you—”

“Oh, please,” Sonic scoffed, “Don’t flatter yourself. You’re breaking the law – pretty consistently, if the reward amount says anything – and you’re gonna answer for it.”

“Not likely,” Shadow retorted. “How about this: we make a deal. You quit pesterin’ me, and I make it worth your while.”

“Not likely,” Sonic snipped.

“Alright, sheriff,” he sneered, drawing his pistol, “Then let me present some new terms.”

“Right, because that worked so well for you last time.”

“You don’t have the room to dodge here,” Shadow pointed out, motioning at their enclosed surroundings with a cutting motion. Sonic scanned the small train car with a quiet swear. He had a point. “You’re fast, but you’re not that fast.”

Sonic rolled his eyes pointedly as his taunt from the saloon was shot derisively back at him. “I’ll give you that,” he sighed, a deliberate twinge of disappointment coating his tone as he added, “Especially since you plan on cheating again…”

“Excuse me?”

“Well, it’s like I said at the saloon,” Sonic shrugged, a smugness returning to his contemptuous glare that made Shadow want to wring his pretty little neck, “It’s just a crying shame you have to rely on all these toys and tricks to keep up with me.”

“Cute, but I’m not entertaining this again. I’ve more than proven myself.”

“That’s nice you think so!” Sonic smiled with cloying amicability, his sarcasm accentuated by the lift of a skeptical brow.

How the blue hedgehog managed to so effortlessly grate on every – single – last one of his nerves was nothing short of mystifying. Maybe he had his own emerald: except instead of allowing him to teleport the way Shadow’s did for him, the sheriff had one that gave him the uncanny ability to drive him up a wall.

Despite every ounce of common sense that screamed at him to finish his heist, to take his second prize and be done with this interaction entirely, Shadow found himself once again holstering his pistol and circling the sheriff. The other hedgehog gladly fell into step to mirror Shadow’s movements, both parties hunting for an opening.

“So,” Sonic intoned, “While I have you: gonna tell me how you’re able to vanish into thin air?”

In the time it took for him to blink, Shadow disappeared from in front of him. The sheriff’s only hint of foul play was the snap of arcane energy that resonated deafeningly in the confined space.

“Like this?”

Sonic jolted as Shadow’s voice sounded from behind him, another crackle of mysterious power alerting him too late to his trickery. He gasped as his scruff was grabbed, body involuntarily seizing. He tried to throw an elbow into the bandit’s ribs to free himself, but the villain slid smoothly out of the way before the strike could connect. He hauled the sheriff back against his torso, turning and driving him bodily against the crate and pinning one arm harshly behind his back.

Sonic tried to use his free hand to reach back and grab a quill, a shirt collar, anything that might give him leverage, but his hand was captured and pinned flat against the wooden container. The outlaw’s claws interlaced with the sheriff’s splayed fingers, holding him taut.

Sonic focused on slowing his breathing to combat the treacherous blush that bloomed across his face. He bucked to try and dislodge his foe, but the outlaw remained unyielding. The sheriff quickly realized the futility of his attempt to escape and decided to save his strength for a better opportunity.

“Thanks for the demonstration,” he muttered, “But you didn’t answer my question. How—?”

“What’s this?”

Sonic shivered at the gravelly voice, low and quiet and so temptingly close. But the warmth spreading in his lower abdomen chilled when he realized what was being referenced. His eyes flashed, all mirth fading from his features as Shadow moved his thumb to toy with the twine bracelet Cream had given him. “A token? My, my. Who’s the lucky lady?”

“It’s not like that,” Sonic hissed, though why he felt the need to elaborate at all baffled him. “Don’t—”

Shadow’s thumb shifted to slip his claw between the bracelet and the sheriff’s wrist, ripping the jewelry off with a simple twitch. Sonic thrashed violently in protest, nearly maiming the outlaw with his flared quills. Shadow shoved him roughly into the crate, making the wood splinter and bow with the force of the propulsion.

“Give me that,” Sonic ordered as he whirled around to face his rival, voice darkening by the second.

“No, I don’t think I will,” Shadow drawled, fingers curling tightly around the bracelet. He chuckled scornfully while the sheriff watched him with a menacing glower, limbs shaking with barely controlled frustration.

“I said give it back. Now.”

“So, you can take things seriously.”

“That was a gift. Give it back, Shadow.”

The sheriff’s deep, rumbling tone did nothing to faze the outlaw, who matched his timbre as he strode forward and growled, “So, we’re on a first name basis, are we?”

Sonic held his ground as Shadow closed the distance, ferocious emerald eyes sparking with indignation that Shadow once again matched, his own ruby ones burning bright like a wildfire.

“Why don’t you take it back, Sonic?”

Moving fast enough to catch his opponent off guard, Sonic threw a fist into the bandit’s cheek. He caught his collar before he could fall and moved to pin him to the wall. Shadow regained his bearings quickly, however, and slammed a retaliatory punch across the other hedgehog’s muzzle in turn.

Sonic faltered briefly but didn’t back down. He grabbed his rival, rearing a fist back at the same time as Shadow did, each hedgehog snarling ferociously at the other as they braced for the free-for-all.

The train car lurched as the locomotive’s brakes screeched to life. The pair were launched forward, slamming together in a pile of graceless, flailing limbs against the wall.

“Get off.”

“You get off!—ha!” Sonic grabbed Shadow’s wrist as they grappled, stealing back his bracelet from his unclenched fist.

Violent pounding on the train car’s door made them pause and glance at the source of the interruption.

“Shadow the Hedgehog! Come out with your hands up!”

Shadow froze, a feverish growl building in his chest.

“Aw. Out of time,” Sonic pouted mockingly.

Shadow rushed him, stooping low to tackle his rival. The sheriff tried to dive aside but was snatched around the midsection. They rolled along the rickety floorboards, a very angry, very vengeful bandit clinging to him all the way and delivering blow after bruising blow. Sonic caught his wrists and threw his weight forward, sending them wheeling the other way, the careening combatants trading the upper hand as quickly and as often as they traded hits.

Shadow managed to get a boot between them and kicked Sonic off. He rose slowly, incidentally occupying the space in front of the door. So consumed by his fury towards the sheriff’s meddling, so distracted by his plans to end his interference once and for all, that Shadow failed to register the noisy clank of a shotgun slide being pumped from outside the door. Sonic’s ears perked at the telltale sound of a shell being loaded, however.

“Move!”

Sonic threw himself into the outlaw just as a shotgun blast blew through the bottom half of the door. Raucous gunfire followed the spray of projectiles that obliterated the wood, riddling the cargo container with bullet holes as the feds unloaded their weapons carelessly. The hedgehogs rolled, entangling again as they tumbled haphazardly to safety.

“What are you doing?!” Shadow roared over the din of gunfire.

“Saving your life? I thought that was pretty obvious?” Sonic snapped as they scrambled to separate. He blinked back tears as smoke began to fill the train car.

“What do you care?” he thundered over the noise of the squealing brakes and shouting feds. “I’m wanted dead or alive, you fool.”

“That’s all good and well, but I don’t want you dead.”

Shadow had no time to process the confounding confession as the decimated remains of the door were kicked the rest of the way in and the feds reloaded their weapons. The stunned sheriff watched as the outlaw moved quickly. He slammed the heel of his boot into the crowbar still wedged in the crate, sending the front panel flying off and the tool clattering to the floor. He reached in and snagged a small gemstone from its depths, pocketing it before turning to storm toward Sonic.

As the federal agents burst in, Shadow grabbed the sheriff’s arm, tossed a scathing look over his shoulder at the officials, and teleported.

Sonic gasped as a violent tension ensnared his body, the feeling of his very essence rending and reassembling making him buckle. He was sent hurtling through time and space like a stone skipping over a tranquil lake surface. He retched as the nauseating world of blurred shapes and colors stilled, the sinking feeling in his gut drawing a strangled hiss out of his throat.

Shadow dumped him unceremoniously in the dirt as they landed miles away from the site of the heist.

“There. Now we’re even,” he grumbled.

“W-What was…” Sonic gagged as he struggled to sit up, clutching the bandit’s leg for support. One of his hands unintentionally ventured high along his inner thigh as he regained his bearings, making Shadow stiffen. “That was awful.”

The outlaw kicked Sonic sharply in the stomach and sent him sprawling onto his back before he could fully rise. The sheriff grunted as he toppled over, then growled when Shadow planted his boot on his chest.

“I’m getting really sick of seeing you from this angle,” he snarled weakly, trying earnestly to shove his rival’s boot off. His only reward for his valiant effort was Shadow digging his heel painfully into his torso, bunching up the fabric and revealing a fuzzy peach stomach.

“Somehow I doubt that,” the villain replied tauntingly. He sank down onto one knee, leaning his full weight onto the other hedgehog and making him gasp.

“Get off me; and get over yourself while you’re at it.”

“You sure that’s what you want?” Shadow cooed derisively, a slow, easy smile tugging at his lips. The sight momentarily paralyzed the blue hedgehog as he drank in the expression. The moment was shattered when the heel of the outlaw’s boot rammed down into his exposed abdomen, making him groan in anguish.

“You’re a real piece of work, you know that?” he murmured.

“So I’ve been told.” As if to further prove his point, Shadow lifted his hand and dangled Cream’s braided bracelet in front of his nose. Sonic’s eyes narrowed, the harrowing promise of swift and holistic vengeance burning in his gaze. Somewhere far in the back of his mind, he absently wondered when and how he had managed to steal back Cream’s gift, but it didn’t really matter.

All that mattered was getting it back.

“A token to remember you by,” Shadow sneered, “Until next time, hero.”

With a burst of light that made Sonic flinch and blink away black dots from his vision, he disappeared.

He lay for a long moment, simply catching his breath and recovering.

Then, his scowl lifted into a smile.

“Sooner than you think,” the sheriff chuckled, scooping out one of the emeralds from his pants pocket to admire it. The little show he had put on, pretending to be completely overwhelmed by the nauseating effects of the teleportation, had worked wonders. He had had ample opportunity to snag the bandit’s prize, using the intentionally placed hand along Shadow’s inner thigh to distract him from his retrieval of the jewel from out of his pocket.

He wondered how long it would take for his rival to notice the missing gemstone.

Not long, as it turned out.

Sonic grinned harshly as he heard the distant, furious roar of the hedgehog who had just discovered their dual exchange.

He scrambled to his feet and took off, holding his hat down so it didn’t go flying off with the burst of speed.

The hardest part was over.

With their roles reversed, now Shadow had no choice but to come to him.

Chapter Text

Night cascaded over Frontier Canyon like silken sheets, the stars dotting the sable sky like bountiful diamonds. As the sun finished its descent, the stifling air finally cooled, and the land’s creatures began to stir. The atmosphere buzzed with life, all manners of animals big and small venturing forth from the red rock’s crevices and the dry underbrush dotting the landscape. The sheriff watched the desert awaken while he waited.

Sonic poked at the coals of his small campfire. A dry log, now more charcoal than wood, shifted and cracked as it landed on the smoldering base. The movement sent a plume of white smoke and ash drifting up in a lazy haze. A spray of embers splattered over the tip of his scuffed red boots and extinguished in the sand, flattened where the sheriff had been incessantly tapping his foot.

He rose to do another lap around the area, simultaneously keeping an eye out for his rival and killing time. He paused beside the natural spring he had set up camp next to, an impatient huff escaping him. He gazed into the bluish green pool, the unique hue a result of the limestone the groundwater had flowed through on its way to the surface. The spring was considerably deeper than the last time Sonic had visited this little oasis, fondly nicknamed “Green Hill,” swollen from the heavy summer monsoons’ saturation of the aquifer below. His reflection stared back at him, mirroring the annoyance evident on his features.

He was a hedgehog of action; movement was as necessary to him as eating or sleeping or breathing. Movement was his natural state of being; even in his sleepy little town, he was constantly on patrol, or checking in on his townsfolk, or (on particularly lucky days), pursuing and stopping bad guys.

Bad guys like Shadow, who was sitting pretty at the top of Sonic’s list of most disliked hedgehogs in the west.

He hated waiting, and the outlaw had kept him in limbo for hours.

He stooped and took a harried drink from the spring, ignoring the pitiful rumble of his stomach, before depositing himself unceremoniously back in the dirt beside the campfire to continue to wait. And wait. And wait.

The worst part was, he knew Shadow was nearby. He had heard the telltale sound of a horse’s hooves pounding against slippery sand, the clanging echo of metal buckles and stirrups as the rider dismounted. He was somewhere out there, hidden by the new moon’s lack of light and the surrounding area’s towering dunes. But for hours, only the emerging desert critters kept him company.

It was so startlingly unlike the outlaw’s behavior up until that point. They had spent the entire day locked in a deadly game of cat and mouse, streaks of black and blue against the muted brown landscape. Shadow was ruthless and unceasing in his pursuit, managing to get close enough to catch up to his adversary twice, pitting Sonic’s speed against his cunning. The two captures had only led to brief, intense brawls before the sly sheriff was dashing off again, but it bespoke the outlaw’s aggressive determination.

…aggressive determination that still hadn’t resulted in the outlaw pulling his pistol or teleporting to close the distance. Not once had he relied on any tricks or unexplainable powers, despite his clear desperation to seize back the emerald Sonic had taken. The revelation had motivated Sonic to take this calculated risk and try to lure in the outlaw for a conversation.

He had a hunch – and his intuition seldom led him astray.

He prodded at his campfire again, throwing another bundle of sticks onto the hearth. It served as all but a beacon for the outlaw to venture close: an invitation to come and steal back his precious gemstone.

So what was the hold-up?

Sonic’s ears swiveled back at the nearly indiscernible noise of hooves on sand, his eyes fast to follow. In a manner befitting his moniker, the outlaw bled out of the darkness like a demon from the depths of hell, eyes glowing an eerie maroon. He rode proudly atop his mare, approaching the campfire at a leisurely pace.

Sonic braced himself for any manner of reactions.

Shadow dismounted, pinning the sheriff with a look of such contempt and frustration that the fur on the back of his neck rose sharply. In rare acknowledgement of the danger his pursuer presented, the sheriff rose into a crouch, ready to make a break for it. His inherent desire for survival trumped his bone-deep exhaustion.

Shadow prided himself on being a patient hedgehog. It was a trait evidenced by his hesitation in approaching the sheriff’s campfire, hunting for any ruse or hidden danger. It was a skill well-known amongst other thieves, an attribute both respected and feared. He had gone days sheltered in place with little food or water, staking out a target, waiting for the opportune moment to strike. He had spent weeks studying the route and tracking the train carrying the first emerald, and he would spend many more weeks hunting down its sister jewels.

He could be uncannily patient.

But the constant stalemates throughout the day, coupled with the blistering sun, the sweltering temperatures, and his failure to wrest back the second emerald, were all circumstances that had pushed Shadow to the brink of said patience.

Sonic’s trivial heckling throughout their chase had been what fully pushed him over the edge.

“Too slow!”

“Need a break?”

“Want me to take it easy on ‘ya this time?”

The unshakable composure he wore like armor had worn down to a thin thread, taut and poised and ready to snap at the slightest provocation. He was notoriously calculating and exact, but he had never known such easy, all-encompassing rage as what this blue hedgehog was able to instill so effortlessly.  

Frustration rolled off Shadow’s dark frame like tangible waves, thickening the air between them with suffocating tension.

But just when he appeared ready to lunge, the outlaw’s ferocious glare slid past the sheriff to the spring.

Contemplation broke through his fearsome façade. Sonic watched the small quirk of his mouth and wrinkle of his snout as he seemed to reach a quiet conclusion.

Shadow opened his mouth to speak.

Sonic’s stomach rumbled pleadingly.

His mouth shut again.

Sonic smiled sheepishly as Shadow cast him a withering glare. “Heh, been a long day.”

“And you didn’t bring any supplies,” he rumbled.

“Didn’t think I’d need to.”

“Right,” Shadow spat, riffling through one of his two saddlebags, “‘cause you thought you’d have me in cuffs and in a jail cell by now. Your arrogance is truly something to behold.”

“Like you’re one to talk. I bet you thought you’d have the rock by—now…”

Sonic trailed off as he watched the outlaw pull out a can of beans, a small pot, and a spoon.

All available mental synapses that hadn’t already been fried in the summer heat rapidly fired as he tried desperately to piece together what was happening. Had the outlaw run out of bullets? He hadn’t fired his pistol once during the chase. Was he about to meet an early end by way of utensils? Death by cookware? That tin can did look like it had some heft to it—

Shadow stepped forward, dropping the items in the dust at Sonic’s boots.

“Heat that up.”

It was more of a demand than a request, but the offer still baffled him. Sonic blinked up at his rival, who glared down menacingly at him past the tip of his nose.

“Not even a ‘please’?” Sonic snarked.

No reply. The outlaw strode past him and to the spring’s edge, his steed’s reins in hand. His duster had been long abandoned earlier in the day, neatly folded and put away in one of the bags, but Sonic watched Shadow shrug off his vest, lift off his hat, and shed his gloves. His movements were practiced, methodical, and reminiscent of the way he had systematically removed the leather items prior to their first fight in the saloon. Sonic mindlessly retrieved the pot and beans, settling the cookware amidst the hot coals at the fire’s base, but he had attention only for the black hedgehog.

The mare slaked its thirst while Shadow set his dusty clothing across the saddle and retrieved his canteen. He rolled up the sleeves of his blouse past his elbow, Sonic once again struck by the luster of his carmine stripes, and took a knee to cup a handful of water in his palms and splash it on his face, a small, eager noise escaping past his lips as dirt and sweat were washed away, a private, intimate sound of relief.

Sonic felt his adrenaline spike – not dissimilar to the heat of competition that had rushed through his veins during their chase, but different, oh so different – as Shadow’s claws pressed into the back of his neck, rubbing the sore muscles there. He was then suddenly very invested in the can of beans still clenched in his hand.

Sonic fished into his pants pocket and withdrew Shadow’s obsidian dagger. Palming the polished hilt, he jammed the tip of the blade through the tin, then used the serrated edge to cut the can open and pry the jagged lid back. He dumped the contents into the pot, the sizzle of sauce making the sheriff’s stomach rumble again, and glanced over at the other hedgehog to gauge how long their momentary peace might last.

Shadow had refilled his canteen and was back at his horse’s side, who had begun to peacefully roam the water’s edge to hunt for any foliage. To Sonic’s bemusement, he poured the collected spring water over her sweaty coat to cool her off, detangling a few knots from her mane and brushing her sides free of as much dirt as he could manage while she grazed.

Shadow rolled his eyes when he glimpsed the sheriff’s awestruck expression in his peripheral, and turned to fully face his adversary. “What?” he snapped, eyes flicking down to see his knife clasped in Sonic’s palm. He made note of it, but didn’t mention it for now.

“You take good care of her.”

“And?” Shadow growled, wary of the reason behind the sudden focus on his horse.

“It’s just…”

Sonic chewed on his next words, suddenly hyperaware of every syllable. He himself was struggling to figure out why he’d brought this up. “It’s just that I don’t see many bandits who bother. Most outlaws usually run their horses ragged before stealing a new one.”

“I’m not most outlaws,” Shadow answered, annoyed, but for the first time since their initial introduction, not at Sonic. He had witnessed such animal abuse firsthand. At least now, with the benefit of a reputation he had painstakingly built via a few particularly brutal beatings of cruel owners, there were very few remaining in the southwest who were stupid enough to let such mistreatment occur in front of the dark hedgehog.

“Steal her?” Sonic teased, though his chipper tone possessed a judgmental edge.

“She’s borrowed,” Shadow clarified with what the sheriff could have sworn appeared to be a faint smile. It disappeared as quickly as he had spotted it, not a trace of mirth remaining on the outlaw’s sun-kissed muzzle.

He returned his attention to refilling his canteen while Sonic was left to muse.

Here was a bandit with an obscenely high bounty and a frankly impressive list of accomplished crimes. While they had been at each other’s throats the past twenty-four hours, Shadow had proven time and again that he was armed, dangerous, and merciless in attaining his goals: Sonic’s battered body and the tattered remnants of his blouse, mere ribbons of fabric at this point, spoke to this.

And yet, this moment of domesticity with a virtual stranger - but even worse, a dangerous outlaw - left Sonic with a profound and mystifying sense of peace. As Shadow refreshed his supplies and cared for his mare and Sonic tended to the fire and their meal, some strange sensation that he refused to name or acknowledge simmered in his core.

He had wanted to have a conversation with the outlaw about what he wanted the jewels for, but instead found he was engaged in a terrific internal conflict that grew more complicated the longer this serenity stretched.

A curious Chao floated by on a cool evening zephyr, appearing at the smell of food as the beans began to bubble. Grateful for the distraction, Sonic clicked his tongue and cooed at the creature until it deviated from its path to sniff at the hedgehog’s offered hand. The townsfolk called them “dust devils,” their chubby brown bodies easily mistaken for tumbleweeds. It chittered and landed heavily on Sonic’s shoulder, making the sheriff dip beneath its slight but unexpected weight with a laugh.

The sound of his rival’s mirth made Shadow turn from where he had been rummaging through his saddlebags. His gaze softened as he saw the law enforcer scoop up the small Chao and nestle it in the crook of his arm, grinning down at the amiable creature. Its little expressive dot settled into a heart as Sonic stroked its fat belly, making it chuff appreciatively. Shadow physically flinched as a sharp ache tore through his chest at the sight.

Unbeknownst to Sonic, he was waging his own internal battle.

He took a moment to compose himself before retrieving a final item and joining Sonic at the campfire.

“Here.” Shadow thrust out a garment toward the sheriff.

Confused, Sonic timidly took the clothing and unfolded it. The Chao sniffed at the article, then, realizing it wasn’t edible, whimpered pathetically until Sonic continued petting it. Within moments, it was snoozing deeply in his lap.

“One of your shirts?” he chirped, running the cotton blouse almost reverently through his hands, the black fabric gliding along his rough leather gloves. Shadow swiftly stifled the shiver that threatened to race up his spine at the thought of those same palms whisper-soft against the shirt he was still wearing.

“Yours is all but ribbons,” he explained tersely.

“And who do I have to thank for that?” Sonic snipped.

“If you don’t want it—”

“Oh, I’ll keep it. You owe me, after all,” Sonic declared brashly, making Shadow bristle at his audacity.

“I changed my mind. Give it here, you ungrateful—”

“Finders keepers,” Sonic grinned. As Shadow went to swipe his gift back – the blue pest could wander around the desert naked for all he cared – the sheriff had already unbuttoned his old blouse (or what little remained of it) and shrugged it off, his red bandana his only means of chastity as he striped. All action ceased as Shadow’s eyes flicked down to his bare chest. They roamed the broad musculature previously hidden by his billowing shirt; the untrimmed and tousled peach fur along his torso and abdomen that matched his arms and provided a stark contrast to the shocking blue of his quills.

Sonic felt Shadow openly ogling him, but decided the shiver that shot up his spine was merely due to finely tuned survival instincts – the same instincts that were memorizing the addicting, rustic smell of smoky mesquite and something sweet, something floral, as the fabric of the borrowed shirt enveloped him in a lulling, warm embrace.

And for a long, embarrassing moment, he imagined how good it would feel for the arms of the shirt’s owner to be what he was wrapped in.

“Now…”

Sonic glanced up, fingers paused at the second button. Shadow’s eyes flicked down to the obsidian knife resting at his side.

“My dagger…and the emerald, while you’re at it.”

“Yeah, no offense,” Sonic said, “But I’m not giving you back the weapon you tried to stab me with. How stupid do you think I am?”

“You don’t want me to answer that honestly,” Shadow deadpanned.

“Oh, hardy har. Keep up the attitude, pal, and you’re not gettin’ a single bite of beans. And the rock? I can’t stress enough how much you’re not getting that.”

Shadow fumed. His claws clenched and unclenched, like he was itching to get them around the sheriff’s throat again. He had already choked out his rival once during one of their earlier scuffles, and it was as lethargic as he had imagined. The way the sheriff had squirmed for freedom beneath him, his gloved hands gripping his wrists to try and wrench him off…he hadn’t pinned him for long enough to squeeze out more than a single, stuttering breath, but by Chaos, he wanted Sonic to wear his claws as a necklace again.

Instead of finding solace in further violence, however, he withdrew a twine bracelet from his pocket and dangled it at his foe. “Your precious token…for my items.”

Sonic perked at that. He watched his rival for any hint of foul play. Shadow watched him back, giving the bracelet another agitated flick. “Well?”

After the slightest hesitation, Sonic retrieved the dagger and twirled it on deft fingers, politely facing the hilt towards its owner. He inspected Cream’s gift as they made the swap, lamenting where Shadow had snapped it.

”You still have something of mine.”

”Yeah, yeah,” the sheriff waved him off, looping the bracelet back around his wrist and knotting the broken jewelry in place.

Shadow paused to regard his progress before reiterating coldly: “The emerald.”

Sonic looked up from where he was using his free hand and teeth to snugly fasten the retied bracelet, grinning harshly.

”Nah.”

Shadow’s eyes fluttered closed as he fought to contain his swelling fury. In a trembling voice, he repeated darkly, “’Nah’?”

“No offense, pal, but it doesn’t give me the warm and fuzzies that you, a low-life criminal, want it so bad,” Sonic scoffed.

“Then I’ll take it.”

“Yeah? Like you’ve been trying to do all day? Go on, then. Take it.”

Shadow stalked forward, his mouthy rival remaining boldly seated despite the inherent disadvantage of the position. Red and green clashed as their gazes locked. Shadow’s hackles inched up with each step closer, until his fangs were fully bared at the other hedgehog. Sonic’s fur prickled reflexively, quills stiffening in natural defense as he was descended upon.

The outlaw stopped a mere few inches from the sheriff, the toes of their boots nearly colliding. Sonic tensed in anticipation of the inevitable attack.

Shadow’s gaze flicked down to the Chao curled up sleepily on the blue hedgehog.

Instead of throwing the first punch, he declared evenly: “You are one of the most annoying, insolent Mobians I’ve ever had the displeasure of meeting.”

“Yeah?” Sonic snarked, “And you’re the cockiest, most arrogant Mobian I've ever met."

Exchanging a final, withering glare with his adversary, the bandit then deposited himself abruptly on the ground beside him, making Sonic nearly topple over in fright. He stretched his cramped limbs and rolled his stiff neck as though the reason for his day-long chase wasn’t currently occupying the seat beside him. Sonic stared in mute awe.

“You’re…not gonna try’n get it again?”

Shadow didn’t reply. He watched the campfire silently, the lines of his harsh, angled features drawn sharper by the dancing shadows thrown from the flickering flames.

Huh.

Sonic was almost tempted to comment on his stupefying behavior, before realizing this was the closest either of them had gotten to a reprieve all day. So, always keeping the outlaw in his peripheral, Sonic’s attention eventually ventured back to their meal, testing the temperature of the food. After stealing the first bite, he offered the pot and utensil to his unlikely companion. The Chao roused from its light slumber at the smell.

“Not hungry.”

“But you—”

“Just eat,” he sighed dejectedly, making Sonic snicker.

“An outlaw and a gentleman,” Sonic cooed, not needing to be told twice as his stomach gave another pang of protest. “But, seriously…thanks.”

Shadow said nothing more, seemingly content to linger in the moment of tentative peace.

The Chao tried to help itself to the food, and though Sonic caved and gave the greedy fellow a small bite, he gently shooed it away when it tried to dive directly into the steaming pot. Its mission momentarily foiled, its little wings fluttered as it went to inspect the newcomer. Sonic nearly reached out to guide it away, afraid of what the outlaw might do, but Shadow surprised him by lifting his hand and lightly caressing the underside of the curious Chao’s chin. It tittered happily and landed with a thud on his knee. It rolled onto its back with a string of grateful noises, the floating dot above its head reshaping into a heart. Shadow snorted at the creature but continued rubbing its chin and belly.

“So, what’s your deal?” Sonic blurted as he finished (probably in record time) shoveling the last of his dinner into his mouth, processing Shadow’s calm and gentle demeanor.

“My ‘deal’?” he echoed.

“Yeah.” Sonic stood to fill the empty pot from the spring, then returned to his seat, setting the cookware amidst the coals to boil off the remnants of food. “You’re not like any crook I’ve dealt with before.”

Shadow made a soft, indiscernible sound in the back of his throat. It was almost a chuckle, but too dark, too sultry. “I can’t stress enough how low the caliber of ‘crook’ you’ve dealt with ‘til now has been. It’s the only reason you’ve survived out here this long.”

“You don’t know the first thing about me,” Sonic shot back, irritation roused by the insinuation.

“I know enough.” Shadow’s gaze flickered over to the other, the hue of his irises a mesmerizing tapestry of reds in the low light. “I know you came outta nowhere, not knowin’ a thing about the West, and fancied yourself a hero for ‘saving’ your little town from the Mayor.”

The venom that leaked into his tone took Sonic aback, but not nearly as much as his mention of Mirage’s previous authoritarian did.

“What do you know about—?!”

“What do you think happened to him when he left your town?” Shadow sneered. “Do you really think that opossum was going to disappear quietly into the night? You didn’t save your town. You doomed it.”

Sonic rose abruptly at that. Shadow remained momentarily seated, relishing the sheriff’s aggressive reaction after a long day of dealing with his unflappable rival. He guided the Chao off his knee with a pat. It yawned sleepily, blinked blearily at its new friends, and glided over to the spring to sniff at the saddlebags for any treats.

“You’re careless,” he stated matter-of-factly, earning a sharp growl from his counterpart. Shadow stood as he pressed, “You’re a poor excuse for a sheriff. And what’s worse? I truly believe you’re trying your best. Your best simply isn’t good enough.”

Sonic struggled to smother the flames of rebellion licking up from the soles of his boots to the tips of his ears. A combination of shame and fear wrestled for control – shame that Shadow might be right, and fear of what he was insinuating.

A third emotion tore through the others, however, and barely restrained anger flared.

Sonic’s fists shook, the promise of retaliation darkening his eyes several shades.

The outlaw welcomed an attempt with the curt demand, “Go on. Hit me.”

He stalked forward, each step driving Sonic back, still doing his utmost to avoid an outright brawl. He felt weak. He was tired. By Chaos, he was wearing this hedgehog’s shirt. He didn’t want to fight; and he suspected that, despite his lashing out, Shadow didn’t, either.

He lurched to a stop as he felt the slight give of ground underfoot. He glanced back to see he had been driven to the bank of the spring.

“Hit me,” the outlaw offered, “But it won’t change the fact that you don’t belong here.”

An uneasy silence enveloped them, each hedgehog sizing the other up. Sonic’s gaze took on an analytical edge, one that made Shadow glower, as he pondered how the bandit had gone from gift-giving to antagonizing in such a short span. He was compensating for something…

Hiding something.

“What do you know about the Mayor? What happened to him after he left Mirage?” Sonic tried again, searching for further answers in the other hedgehog’s glare.

He found none. Instead, Shadow barked out a savage, mocking laugh.

“What do you know about Mayor Clutch?” Sonic repeated, voice lowering an octave and stepping forward to try and gain back the ground he’d already ceded to his dark counterpart. Shadow didn’t budge, however, making Sonic grunt as he bounced off the outlaw’s muscular chest.

“Give me the emerald, and maybe I’ll share what I know,” he sneered.

“Share what you know, or else—”

“Or else what?” Shadow shoved the rest of the way into the sheriff’s personal space, noses brushing and challenge roiling between them like a storm cloud. “I already invited you to hit me, sheriff. By all means.”

“I don’t want to fight you. I want answers.”

“I’ll tell you this,” Shadow smirked, “You would rather I be the one in possession of the gems.”

“I would rather you be behind bars. The gems are government property,” Sonic declared, and was set to continue when he was interrupted again by a raspy, almost wistful chuckle. The sheriff scowled, ignoring the stutter of his heart at the husky sound.

“If you put the emeralds back into the hands of the United Federation, you’re even stupider than I thought. You may find this hard to believe, hero, but your government doesn’t have your best interests at heart.”

“And you do?”

“My interests are tame in comparison to what others would do with the emeralds’ powers.” The corner of Shadow’s lip twitched upwards in a cruel semblance of a smile. “But you could care less.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“I’ve been trying to get a read on you,” he admitted coolly, tilting his head to press into the last few inches of space keeping them separated. Sonic was forced back another step, boot splashing in the mineral water, but the black hedgehog didn’t let up, grabbing his arm and keeping him in place when he tried to duck aside and get back on solid ground. Sonic’s eyes shone with righteous furor. “And I finally understand. You may not care about the monetary reward, but…what kind of promotion do you envision for yourself when turning me in, hm?”

Sonic bristled at his boastful assumption: like the outlaw knew exactly what kind of hedgehog was standing in front of him; like he knew who he was, or what he wanted.

“You think you got it all figured out, huh?” Sonic hissed.

Shadow’s ignored him, continuing: “I’m sure they’d promote you from state to federal law enforcement in a heartbeat. A new, fancy badge for the ‘Hero of Frontier Canyon’.”

Sonic stiffened, chest constricting as he felt the pinprick points of a dangerous claw trace up his throat. His eyes remained steady on the outlaw’s, refusing to show the barest hint of fear despite the implied threat in his touch.

“You don’t know the first thing about me,” the blue hedgehog repeated.

“I’m intimately familiar with your kind.”

His claw settled along Sonic’s clenched jaw, the tips of his fingers tracing along his muzzle with false tenderness.

“Reckless thrill seekers. Hungry for wealth, for power, for fame.”

“That’s rich, coming from a common thief,” Sonic retorted, making Shadow twitch at the insult.

He flashed his fangs in a humorless grin, tightening his grip. Sonic remained still, even as his rival’s lips ghosted against his and he murmured: “Better a ‘common thief’ than a fake hero. You’ve doomed your sad little town and your pathetic townsfolk. I’m glad you have a token to remember them by,” he whispered, scalding gaze flicking down to the twine bracelet, “Since it’ll be all that remains of that wretched hovel you call home—”

Sonic lunged before Shadow could block him, striking him across the jaw with a heavy cross hook. The outlaw stumbled back, body going rigid as he processed the blow. When his gaze sailed up to meet the sheriff’s, who beckoned him forward with a taunting come-hither motion, he took the bait and leaped for him, the day’s frustrations and petty grievances voiced in a wrathful battle cry.

A distant, familiar racket made him freeze mid-step. His ears flicked back to confirm the source, eyes narrowing in concentration.

“Come on!” Sonic shouted in frustration, “You wanted a fight so bad? Come and get it—!”

“Quiet,” Shadow suddenly demanded in a hushed, clipped tone, ear continuously swiveling to catch the noise again. He usually trusted his instincts, but this hedgehog left him befuddled and undisciplined. Maybe it had been his own blood rushing in his ears, or a rattlesnake—

“You’re the one who—”

Shadow sprang forward, knocking Sonic’s raised fists aside and pressing his palm over the sheriff’s mouth with a no-nonsense snarl that mandated obedience. Both pairs of perked ears flicked back and forth, hunting for the source of the interruption.

Finally, he heard it.

A stampede of thundering hooves. The holler of at least half a dozen men and the high-pitched whinnies of their horses, the group closing the distance each passing second.

Shadow lurched back. Instead of releasing his foe, however, he clasped Sonic’s arm in a vice-like grip and dragged him to where his mare had lifted her head, catching the faint noise that had startled her owner.

“Get on the horse.”

“Friends of yours?”

“Shut up and get on the horse.”

“Why should I—?”

“You want to arrest me,” Shadow hissed, “And I want my emerald you stole from me. Neither of us will—”

“Can’t steal something that was already stolen,” the sheriff pointed out.

“Neither of us will get what we want if we’re both dead,” Shadow all but roared in exasperation, “So, get—"

“I know we were getting real chummy there for a moment, but I’m not helping you escape the law,” Sonic scoffed.

“They aren’t the feds,” Shadow snapped, keeping his unyielding hold on the blue hedgehog as he shoved a boot into the stirrup, hauling himself into the saddle with practiced ease.

“Why would I believe—?”

“Did you really think I’m the only criminal after the gems?”

“No, but—”

The outlaw’s grip tightened to a painful degree, dragging Sonic nearly flush. The burning resolution in his gaze made one thing clear out of the confounding revelations and remaining mysteries from their evening together:

As long as Sonic possessed the emerald, Shadow would possess him.

“Do you want answers?” Shadow supplied with icy derision. “Do you want to know more about Clutch?”

He didn’t ask Sonic again, nor did he have to.

Shadow moved his boot out of the way as the sheriff used the flat base of the stirrup to thrust himself up behind him. Before his impulsive adversary could change his mind, the outlaw prodded his steed’s sides with a firm poke of his heel, the gentle movement enough to send the horse into a full-on gallop, leaving behind the outlaw’s pursuers and the small, cozy campfire as they rode into the night.

Sonic’s intuition seldom led him astray – and he still had a hunch to prove.

Chapter Text

Leather boots sent up a cloud of dust as the gang’s leader stepped down from his saddle.

The group circled around the campfire, silently surveying their surroundings. Their horses snorted and stamped at the ground aggressively, mouths flecked with foam from the long day’s ride. Bridles and stirrups clanged noisily as they all waited impatiently to begin their chase anew.

Their leader was in no rush, however.

He approached the campfire. Coals glowed beneath a bed of charcoaled mesquite. Heterochromatic eyes scanned the cozy scene, filing away his findings as he took in the signs of his target’s hasty retreat…and the evidence of domesticity.

He investigated the abandoned items. Used kitchenware. Ruined shirt. And…

“Well, well. What’s this?”

He took a knee and picked up a hat, running a gloved claw over the brown brim. He met his reflection’s eyes as his gaze flicked up to take in the shiny gold sheriff’s badge pinned to the crown.

“Interesting.”

He didn’t realize his mistake until they neared the end of their ride.

He had been so focused on the feeling of his hands gripping the black hedgehog’s waist for stability. He had been too hyperaware of the way their bodies, forced near by the limiting space of the saddle, pressed impossibly closer with each of the mare’s powerful strides.

It was only as a large, lone building came swiftly into view, the Wild West blending into equally untamed civilization, that the realization punched the air out of his lungs.

He had left behind his sheriff’s badge.

The hat was replaceable – expensive, but disposable in the grand scheme of things.

The badge his townsfolk had gifted to him, however, was anything but.

“We gotta go back,” Sonic hollered over the rush of wind that pinned their ears back.

Shadow glanced over his shoulder at the other, incredulous. “What in the hell for?”

“My hat. My badge!”

Shadow’s snout crinkled with disdain and he returned his attention to the desert ahead.

Sonic swung a leg over the saddle, preparing to leap off despite the full gallop speed. Shadow realized what he was getting ready to do and wrenched on his horse’s reins, sending her up on her hind legs with a desperate whinny. Sonic tumbled off her flank, barely avoiding getting trampled underfoot by the startled animal.

“You’re out of your damn mind,” Shadow thundered, hopping down from the horse’s back and stomping toward the sputtering sheriff. “There’s no point in going back. It’s already gone.”

“You don’t know that,” he coughed, legs wobbling beneath him as he dragged himself out of the dust, shaking from adrenaline. “It was a gift! I have to try—”

“If it matters so much, why’d you forget it in the first place?”

Shame spread like acid over Sonic’s peach muzzle. Shadow scoffed, and the dismissive reaction had the sheriff’s embarrassment transitioning easily into anger. The outlaw’s next callous observation solidified his fury: “You should be more concerned with replacing my pot and spoon.”

Sonic whipped around, marching back into the desert. “This was a mistake. I’m going back—”

He grunted as Shadow teleported in front of him, cutting him off. He hissed as the bandit snagged a fistful of his borrowed shirt’s collar. “Like hell you are.”

“Let go of me.”

“You’re not going anywhere with my emerald.”

Sonic had half a mind to give it to him and be done with it all: the adventure, the outlaw, his hunch.

More than anything, he just wanted to return home.

An ache of longing seized his heart. All the mundane activities he had once been exasperated by now seemed like a distant, unattainable dream. He wanted to help Vector with his ranch work; to assist Vanilla with restocking her store’s shelves. He wanted to help Amy churn goatmilk butter for cornbread; help Cream with her homework. He wanted to be on sentry duty with Mighty; to help Ray practice lassoing. All of the little tasks he had once considered chores, albeit oftentimes fun ones, now felt like key roles he had abandoned his townsfolk to handle themselves.

He brushed Shadow’s hand off, ready to reach into his quills for the emerald he’d taken.

His hesitant eyes found Shadow’s cool ones, the outlaw now watching him expectantly as he gleaned the reason for the sheriff’s inner turmoil.

“Give me the emerald,” he urged with disingenuous compassion, “Go home, sheriff. This isn’t your fight. Your townsfolk need you.”

Maybe he was right. Why was he even here?

But if I don’t stop him, who will?

He couldn’t let Shadow go unchecked. There was no telling the consequences of letting this dangerous outlaw go free, and if other criminals were now involved, the conflict over the gemstones was bound to spill over to involve civilians. Innocent bystanders would get hurt if he did nothing.

He was at a fork in the road; on the precipice of a decision that would determine his future.

He could stay here with Shadow. He could choose the route that entailed sacrifice and hardship: expenses that would guarantee the safety and happiness of those deserving.

Or he could choose his own freedoms and whims and return home to Mirage, a selfish but tempting alternative. He could abandon his responsibility to retrieve the emeralds; he could live his life in peaceful, ignorant bliss. He had only held the law enforcement position for a few measly months. What obligation did he have to the responsibility that was thrust, sudden and unwanted, upon him?

Ultimately, he knew exactly the kind of sheriff he wanted to be.

Sonic let his hand drop from where it had been prepared to grasp the emerald. With a steadying breath, he strode past the other hedgehog and towards the nearby building.

“What are you doing?” Shadow snapped, watching his retreat with piqued ire.

“My townsfolk can take care of themselves while I sort out this gem business,” Sonic declared, taking the horse’s reins and leading her to the tin water trough beside what he soon realized was an inn. Shadow stalked closely behind him, fists shaking.

“And I’ll get my badge back, one way or another. I’m sure of it,” he decreed, all traces of self-doubt evaporating like smoke.

While the mare drank deeply, slaking its thirst after the short but hard journey, Sonic turned back to face his rival and crossed his arms. He flashed him an infuriatingly smug grin. “Which is all to say: sorry. You’re stuck with me.”

Shadow bared his fangs.

He had been so close.

Sonic’s indecision and frustration had been etched plainly into his homesick features. He had reached for the emerald. He had nearly had it in hand. He had almost handed it over.

Shadow’s palm pressed against where his pistol sat heavy in its holster, fingers itching to draw. Sonic saw the movement in his peripheral, but kept his eyes steady on the outlaw’s…

…eyes that shone with ready defiance; somber green like the unexplored recesses of a mountain forest, reflecting the golden amber light spilling out of the inn’s windows and filling his irises with pools of liquid gold. Eyes that sparked with electric rebellion; sizzled with contemptuous audacity. His stubbornness was as maddening as it was enchanting—

No.

He had proven himself a needless distraction time and again; and Shadow had been weak enough to allow their odd dynamic to go on for too long.

No more.

“The emerald. Now,” Shadow warned.

“Yours first,” Sonic challenged.

“This is no longer a game, sheriff. There are others who are seeking the jewels now.”

“Thanks for the reminder, outlaw. I’m well aware.”

“You’re out of your element.”

“I think I’m right where I need to be,” the hero smirked. “Though I’ll tell ‘ya what. Tell me about the Mayor, and I’ll consider handing over your precious gem.”

“You’re full of it.”

“Where did he go after he left Mirage?” Sonic tried anyway.

“Bite me,” Shadow snarled, poking an aggressive index into his chest as he advanced. A pithy growl sounded in the back of Sonic’s throat, outperformed by a deep, cautioning answer from the depths of the outlaw’s chest.

Shadow’s attention was briefly stolen by a rumble of thunder, however. His hand dropped from where it had still hovered over his pistol as he surveyed the gathering black clouds overhead, pregnant with the violent promise of monsoon rains.

“Tell me about the Mayor,” Sonic demanded again, earning the black hedgehog’s attention once more. A few drops of the pending torrent pierced the red dirt beneath their boots. “You said you’d give me answers—”

“I insinuated I would give you answers.”

“Then why even bother dragging me along? Why didn’t you just shoot me and take the emerald?” Sonic cried with an exasperated toss of his hands to the sky. “You haven’t drawn your gun since the train car. Why?”

“You really do have a death wish,” Shadow hissed with an impatient shake of his head. “What do you want me to say, hedgehog?”

"How about we start with the truth."

“Alright: the only reason I haven’t shot you is because you’re not worth the cost of a bullet.”

"I said the truth,” Sonic snapped, daring to close the distance with a brash step forward, his red boots nearly knocking into the other’s black, steel-toed ones. His peach and blue fur bristled beneath Shadow’s blouse. “You had no issue shooting up my town’s saloon, and with as active as you've been thieving, I doubt money's an issue. So why not just shoot me?”

“You want the truth? I realized what a joke of a sheriff you are,” Shadow answered hotly, ignoring the insistent patter of the intensifying rain peppering them. “Shooting you would be an insult to my skills.”

“Oh, yeah? This joke of a sheriff has bested you repeatedly,” Sonic sniffed.

“If by ‘besting me,’ you’re referring to the times I’ve had you underfoot—”

“I had you chasing me all over the valley to get the precious jewel I stole from you. So, if I’m a joke,” Sonic purred with a cocky flash of his canines, “What’s that make you?”

Sonic grunted as Shadow crouched and dove into his midsection. He wrapped lithe arms around his waist and swung the outlaw into the ground as they crashed together. They collapsed in a writhing heap, scrabbling and rolling for dominance on their latest battleground.

”Ha!” Sonic cried victoriously as he mounted his surly foe.

He promptly took a direct punch to the cheek that littered his vision with stars. He thrust a knee into his rival’s abdomen that elicited a pained gasp. Shadow threw himself forward and flipped their positions, slamming his hips down into the blue hedgehog’s to pin him. Sonic captured his wrists, bucking like an unbroken stallion to dislodge his adversary, both left fuming by yet another stalemate.

Shadow twisted a hand free and, with practiced precision, wove his claws carefully through the mass of piercing blue quills in a harried hunt for Sonic’s emerald. Before he could continue his brusque, invasive search, however, Sonic’s hand instinctively lashed out to grab the offender’s throat.

Shadow’s eyes widened. He retaliated by wrenching Sonic’s head back, trying to dislodge his hold, but Sonic’s hand only squeezed tighter, nearly cutting off the outlaw’s airflow.

“Release me.”

“Get your paws outta my quills.”

The tension thickened as swiftly as the atmosphere’s barometric pressure dropped from the brewing storm.

“Release me, and I’ll do you the favor of shootin’ you,” Shadow rasped, his baritone voice made huskier by the blue hedgehog’s bruising grip.

“Gee, tempting,” Sonic snarked.

A tiny, pathetic sound, almost drowned out by their noisy struggle, drew their attention.

Both hedgehogs paused in their tussle to glance up and see the source of their interruption. The dust devil Chao fluttered out of one of Shadow’s saddlebags, mouth stuffed with jerky. It chirped and smiled gratefully at its newfound friends, raising a plump arm to wave at them. Sonic waved weakly back, his grip slackening from around the outlaw’s throat. A fat raindrop fell on the Chao’s head, its little dot jolting into an exclamation point as it squeaked in protest and buried itself back into the bag.

The mare regarded its owner with a judgmental stare. She nickered lowly, almost in amusement, at her owner and his rambunctious rival.

Shadow huffed and used the distractions to end the fight with a feverish growl. Sonic grunted as he was used as a glorified springboard to launch Shadow back onto his feet. He sent a quick kick toward the black hedgehog in retaliation, but he had already successfully slithered out of the way.

He picked up his mare’s reins from where they had been loosely draped over the inn’s hitching post, turning away to find her shelter in the attached stable as the weather worsened.

“Go inside,” Shadow called to the sheriff over the howling winds. “Find a table in the back, keep your head down, and under no circumstances are you to mention the emeralds or your affiliation with the law.”

“Don’t worry, I’m not exactly keen to be associated with a known crook, either,” Sonic hollered back, smoothing down his quills.

Shadow hissed as he pointed past Sonic and into the inn. “Fool. If they have any idea you’re a sheriff, you’ll be hanging by a rope within the hour.”

“Newsflash: how many blue hedgehogs you know running around Frontier Canyon? They’re gonna know who I am as soon as they lay eyes on me.”

“Just keep your mouth shut,” Shadow warned, “Difficult though you may find it. They can suspect whatever they want, but if you’re with me, no one will question us here - as long as you keep. Your mouth. SHUT.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Sonic grumbled with an eyeroll, “I know how to keep a low profile.”

Shadow quickly led his horse around the building while Sonic, muttering expletives under his breath, approached the saloon doors. He hesitated for a moment in the building downpour, enjoying its refreshing effect. After his thundering heart beat slowed to an acceptable rate, he pushed open the doors and stepped inside.

All chatter instantly ceased as the patrons turned from where they sat at tables and bar stools to fix the newcomer with suspicious glares. A roomful of flinty eyes pinned the sheriff in place, who gulped nervously beneath the weight of the immediate and accusatory attention.

“Well, howdy, folks,” Sonic called out in what he hoped could pass for a local twang. It didn’t. His lilting northern accent was too strong to be masqueraded as anything but.

The crowd glared viciously, simmering with hate and distrust.

“…Do ya’ll like music?”

Shadow soothed his steed with a few gentle pats as he got her settled in one of the empty stalls. He set her up with more than enough feed and water for the evening and had just palmed a pick to clean out the soles of her hooves when the sounds of a commotion coming from inside the inn reached him, rowdier than the usual din of the saloon.

That damn blue hedgehog is going to be the death of me.

With a final stroke of his mare’s mane, and a snippy “Quit eatin’ my supplies,” to the Chao (who blinked innocently up at its friend as it took a fresh bite out of a strip of dried fruit), he rushed out of the stables and to the entrance, pushing past the double doors and entering a scene that left him gawking and glued to his spot at the entrance.

“Oh, give me a home, where the buffalo roam,” the raucous crowd boomed with thunderous, offkey melody as they slurred the song’s words. Sonic, having taken centerstage atop the polished bar counter, breathed out the soulful tune into the mouth of a harmonica.

“Where seldom is heard, a discouraging word…”

“Well, well!” the innkeeper called to Shadow, plucking his way easily through the crowd and appearing at the stunned outlaw’s side.

“What the hell is going on?” he mused.

“Your friend’s a hoot,” Basil laughed, lightly elbowing him in lighthearted greeting, a tray of empty glasses balanced expertly in one hand. He hummed along as the bar continued its impromptu concert.

“That hedgehog is not my friend,” he spat.

Sonic spotted Shadow, switching to a one-handed position to free up his other hand to wave in greeting.

Shadow glowered while the old dog smiled. “Seems pretty friendly to me.”

“He’s trying to arrest me.”

“You’re an outlaw, right?” Basil chuckled. “Kind of comes with the territory. You can’t take that kind of thing personally. Come on in! Flora’s makin’ a fresh batch of stew.”

Sonic seemed dedicated to finishing the song as obnoxiously as possible, throwing in a handful of flourishing “wahs” with a practiced cup of his hand, but while Shadow considered the many creative ways he could end the sheriff's life with his own instrument, the crowd joyously hollered out for an encore.

“Absolutely not,” Shadow barked, pointing aggressively at the floor beside him. “Get down here. Now.”

“Color me surprised,” Sonic drawled, decidedly not surprised, “That alongside being an insufferable prick, you’re a complete killjoy.”

“Is this what you think ‘keeping a low profile’ entails?” Shadow hissed.

“I’m blending with the locals!” Sonic argued, eyes beaming with joviality that instantly set the outlaw aback. He pocketed the harmonica, stooping down to take a seat on the countertop in front of his rival, legs swinging playfully.

“You can’t shoot a gun but you learned how to play the harmonica?”

“I didn’t say I can’t shoot a gun. I said I can’t aim. Important distinction,” Sonic corrected matter-of-factly.

“You hedgehogs hungry?” Basil called over the excited chatter of the bar. A few patrons had picked up another song, arms slung over each other’s shoulders and drunkenly swaying as they poorly carried the latest tune in crowing, warbling voices.

“Sorry, don’t have so much as a ring to my name at the moment,” Sonic responded sheepishly.

Basil tsked. “Come get some food. A friend of Shadow’s ain’t payin’ for his meal under this roof.”

“Oh? You two pretty close?” Sonic asked, puzzled but touched by the kind offer.

“Basil,” Shadow warned, praying his reprimanding tone would ward off providing the sheriff any undue insights. Basil was either unaware of Shadow’s admonishment, or – and most likely – simply didn’t care. He leaned toward the pair to stage-whisper to the sheriff: “That ‘outlaw’s’ saved me more money and headaches than I could ever pay him back for. Bar fights; bandits; hell, even an arsonist or two: you name a calamity, Shadow’s probably stopped it.”

“Is that right?” Sonic replied thoughtfully. He took special note of the lingering emphasis on ‘outlaw’. A grin spread across his muzzle as he found Shadow’s gaze, who was clearly irked by his counterpart’s growing interest. “Didn’t realize you were so community-driven.”

“Shut up. And you,” Shadow jerked a claw at the inn’s owner, who raised his hands placatingly. “Quit sharin’ my business.”

Basil complied with a mild-mannered, polite smile, beckoning the boys to follow. “Flora!” he called down the bar. Another elderly dog, pink-furred with white highlights, turned from where she was stirring a massive, bubbling pot. Her long, pointed ears perked at the sound of her name. The edges of her butterscotch eyes were littered with laugh lines, and her smile was as radiant as the sun on freshly fallen snow.

“Would’ya get a couple bowls for Shadow and his friend, dear?” Basil asked, scruffy muzzle lifting in unconcealed joy at the sight of his spouse. Even after thirty years of married bliss, each shared look with his wife was like falling in love for the first time.

“Of course, honey. Welcome back, Shadow. Who’s your friend?”

“Not my friend,” Shadow repeated sternly, though he visibly softened when greeting the innkeeper’s wife. “He’s a thorn in my side.” He removed his hat as a show of respect, hanging it on a hook beneath the counter.

“We’re still figuring out labels,” Sonic teased, accepting a bowl of the stew and taking a deep inhale of the creamy, spiced food with a relieved sigh. “This smells incredible.”

“Nothing for me, thanks,” Shadow said as Flora prepared to fill a second bowl. “I need to speak with your husband.” He shot a pointed look at the sheriff. “Privately.”

“Oh, mysterious,” Basil laughed, sharing an easy smile with Sonic, who returned it with genuine glee. “Well, then, we’ll head into the back; you can help me take inventory.”

As Basil sauntered into the storage room behind the bar, Sonic extended a hand to the innkeeper’s wife. “Sorry, where are my manners? Nice to meet you, ma’am. I’m The-Thorn-In-Shadow’s-Side,” he beamed, shooting the outlaw a mocking wink.

“Very nice to meet you,” the pink dog giggled.

Shadow rolled his eyes at the sheriff before tossing the storage room door closed, blocking out the saloon’s chatter and encasing them in blissful silence.

“So. Dare I ask what you’re doing with the Hero of Frontier Canyon?” Basil chuckled.

“I told him to keep a low profile,” Shadow muttered, leaning against the door jamb and shooting an annoyed glare over his shoulder. He could only hope the scathing look was felt by its intended recipient through the thick barrier of the wooden door.

“Not entirely his fault. Don’t have too many blue hedgehogs runnin’ ‘round these parts. He was bound to be recognized. Lucky for him, these lawbreakers love a good tune more than they hate a sheriff. So…” Basil leveled a sly, presumptuous look on the outlaw. “He must be a well-meanin’ fella if you’re botherin’ with him.”

“He’s a pest and a fool,” Shadow corrected him coldly.

“Not like you to suffer fools. Must be somethin’ different about this one.”

“I’d rather not get into it.”

A pause. Shadow shook his head. The old dog was about as subtle as a rampaging bull.

“…or maybe he just has one of those emeralds ya’ll are after.”

Shadow sighed, scrubbing his palm over his face. The owner’s tail swished lazily behind him as he waddled up and down the aisles taking stock, his floppy ears bouncing with each unhurried step.

Shadow took a small notepad and a fountain pen from off the top of one of the nearby barrels, writing down in neat, flourishing handwriting Basil’s growing grocery list as the owner mumbled to himself. “How do you know about the emeralds, Basil?”

“You don’t get to be my age in these parts without keepin’ tabs on the goings-on,” he chortled, “Besides: there’ve been whispers.”

“What have you heard?”

“Funny. Rouge came in yesterday wonderin’ the same thing.”

Shadow’s eye twitched, stiffening.

“She was askin’ ‘bout’cha,” he added.

“What did you tell her?”

“That you’re likely the only one who knows about these gems, and that she oughta talk to you.”

Shadow released a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding in. “Thank you.” The last thing he needed was Rouge, of all criminals, having any sort of upper hand when it came to the race for the emeralds. No doubt she had seen right through Basil’s lie – his loyalty to Shadow was no secret, after all – but she wouldn’t have pestered the innkeeper for further information. No doubt she wasn’t far off, waiting for Basil to share what he knew with Shadow before finding the black hedgehog and attempting to learn more.

“Sure. You oughta speak with her sooner rather than later, though. Seemed like she’d be willing to help on your little adventure.”

“Willing to help herself to the emeralds, is more like,” Shadow scoffed, though the comment lacked any true disdain. Basil laughed in companionable agreement. “I’ll deal with her later. What are the rumors you’ve heard?”

“Word is there are seven of ‘em,” Basil explained, stopping to squint at a faded label, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. “Biscuits,” he muttered. Shadow annotated the item on the parchment, waiting patiently for the owner to continue. “Each of the emeralds is worth its own fortune. I figure anyone who collects all seven’d be the richest Mobian in the west. United Federation property, though, so not many folks stupid enough to go after ‘em.”

“Hm. Any word on where they might be?”

“They’re being constantly moved,” Basil continued. “No one knows for sure why. But then you probably knew that already, havin’ collected a few for yourself.”

Shadow nodded his confirmation.

“Rouge has one. Or at least that’s what she implied.”

“Of course she does.”

“As for where to look: you know the bank in Windy Valley?”

“I do.”

“Try there, next.”

Shadow nodded a silent thanks.

Worn boots shuffled across the creaky floorboards as Basil finished taking inventory and returned to where Shadow leaned against the exit. “Does the sheriff know why you’re after ‘em?”

“No. He doesn’t need to,” the black hedgehog replied pointedly.

“Might be a good idea to tell him, if he’ll be stickin’ around.” The innkeeper came to a stop in front of the outlaw, hands clasped behind his back. He chuckled wistfully to himself. “‘The Hero of Frontier Canyon’,” he hummed thoughtfully. “…He’s dealt with Clutch before.”

“I’m aware.”

“If he’s a good sheriff – and I suspect he is – he can help stop him. He can help stop what happened to your town from happenin’ again.”

Shadow bristled with unconcealed agitation. He bit his tongue from the crueler comment he wanted to make, and ripped the list he’d made off the notepad to hand to Basil, who accepted it gratefully. “Noted.”

“Just think about it?” the cyan dog suggested with a sympathetic smile.

“We’re takin’ the two far rooms on the second floor,” Shadow responded callously. “We’ll be gone by morning—” He swung open the storage room door – and froze upon seeing the scene playing out before him.

Sonic was back on top of the counter, dancing carefree alongside Flora, whooping and cackling like she was twenty years younger. He had lent his harmonica to one of the patrons. Someone had found a banjo, and someone else had unpacked their violin. With the powerful pounding of boots stomping on weathered floors in synchronized accompaniment, a fast-paced, boisterous tune swelled amidst the rowdy, partying locals. So deep in his conversation with Basil, he hadn’t registered the music.

“He is who you think can stop Clutch?” Shadow asked curtly, slack-jawed in stunned disbelief.

Basil shrugged. “I remember a time when you weren’t so different.”

Shadow’s ears flicked back at that, pinning to his skull. With a disgusted snarl, he stormed forward. He held out a hand to help Flora down from the counter, shooting a heated glare at the sheriff.

“Get down from—hey!”

His narrowed eyes widened as Sonic took his hand and dragged him bodily up to join them atop the bar. Shadow looked to the innkeeper to be the voice of reason in this ridiculous development, but he was fully distracted by Flora, sharing in youthful laughter with his wife as she reached down to try and help him up, too.

“C’mon, killjoy,” Sonic teased, bending down to help a few more patrons up onto the bar before his attention returned to the other. He snatched Shadow’s wrist as he tried to make his escape off the counter. “I bet you’ve got some fancy footwork underneath all that angst.”

“You,” Shadow spat from between clenched fangs, “are an obnoxious, good-for-nothing—”

“What’s that? Sorry, can’t hear you over the sound of all the fun you’re trying to spoil!” Sonic cooed, slipping skillfully out of reach of a powerful swipe. He crooked his thumbs into his belt as he chacha’d airily down the length of the bar. He snickered as Shadow pursued him, purposefully refusing to dance as he bullied his way toward the sheriff.

Sonic hopped down into the crowd below, clapping his hands in rhythm to the latest jaunty song, energetically moseying farther out of Shadow’s reach.

“Aw, Shads! You’re really not gonna dance with me?”

Shadow flinched at the unexpected nickname. He huffed and dismissed the attempts from the others to pull him into a jig, while Sonic took the time and effort to twirl and two-step with the folks he danced by.

He had just dipped a giggling coyote and spun her back on her feet when his rival took advantage of the distraction to capture him. Sonic’s breath hitched as he was grabbed by his bandana and yanked forward harshly.

“Hey,” Sonic greeted breathlessly, chest heaving from his spirited dancing. “Looks like you caught me.”

Shadow’s palms burned beneath the heat radiating off the sheriff’s fur. His eyes roved over him, lingering first on the tuft of peach fur peeking over the top of his blouse’s top button, glancing over his delicately parted lips, before drinking in Sonic’s galvanized eyes, blazing with exhilaration.

The hero offered an upbeat smile. “So,” he whispered, “How about that dance?”

Without further fanfare, Shadow dragged him out of the saloon and towards stairs leading up to the inn’s rooms. A few of the locals whistled their encouragement; their presumptive insinuations marred Sonic’s muzzle with a deep blush.

“Spoilsport,” Sonic grumped as he was shoved up the stairs, his way back down barred by his bristling companion. Shadow’s patience stretched thinner and thinner as they stepped off the landing and down the hall toward their rooms. “I get the feeling you’re just jealous I was making friends. Or is this ‘cause you really can’t dance? Hey, listen, no judgment. If you dropped the sourpuss act, I’d be happy to teach you—”

With a roar swallowed by the downstairs festivities and the sheets of rain pounding against the inn, Shadow thrust him against the bay window at the end of the hall, nearly shattering the pane. Trembling claws flexed against the glass beside Sonic’s head as the outlaw boxed him in, the resulting screech like nails on chalkboard. Strategically hung oil lanterns flung lengthy, shifting shadows along the hallway. While the flickering light warmed and bared Sonic’s features, it cast Shadow’s in suffocating darkness.

“Take it easy! I was just kidding. I’m sure you can cut a rug with the best of ‘em—”

“How did the likes of you stop Clutch?”

Sonic froze beneath the excruciating accusation in his rival’s brooding, bloodred irises, and for once, had nothing to say. No quip or comeback to alleviate the moment’s unease. Only tension, coiled tight and threatening between them, like a rattlesnake prepared to strike.

“How?” Shadow croaked, arms shaking with restraint.

“I don’t know what you want me to say,” Sonic responded, voice controlled and even as he tread carefully through an interaction that was feeling more like a minefield by the moment. He stood still against the window, quills pressed flat and fanning out around him in a pretty halo. Shadow’s own striped quills flared in agitation, but he slowly recovered from his outburst.

“Sleep,” Shadow murmured, cutting through the oppressive hush with his clipped demand. He pushed Sonic across the hall toward his own room while turning and slipping into his. “We leave at dawn.”

“Shadow, wait, I—”

Sonic jerked back as the door was slammed in his face, nearly hitting his nose. He listened to the retreat of boots moving further into the room. He hesitated, debating his next move, but took a step back. Exhaustion was likely playing a heavy hand in Shadow’s unstable irritability. With sleep and distance, maybe he could finally convince the enigmatic outlaw to talk.

He stepped into his room, the door clicking shut behind him.

If the Mayor was still a threat, he needed the answers Shadow seemed to have.

At whatever cost.

Chapter Text

He tossed and turned, fighting an increasingly hopeless battle to find a modicum of comfort that might subdue his raging thoughts into a moment’s reprieve. Instead, the sheriff only succeeded in finding every nonexistent lump on his inoffensive mattress.

He was close to blaming sheer defiance: after all, Shadow’s brusque order to “Sleep,” followed by a door being slammed in his face, didn’t exactly serve as a soothing lullaby meant to whisk him off to sweet dreams. Why his impromptu rebellion decided to manifest itself in the form of exhausting self-sabotage, however? Sonic went ahead and thrust that inquiry atop the pile of other unanswered questions that grew day minute by minute, hour by hour, thanks to a certain bothersome outlaw.

Or maybe the reason for his wakefulness was simpler. The storm had shifted in the past hour, and its gathered and gaining strength now made thick wooden walls creak like frail branches. A shiver trembled through the inn’s sturdy structure with every clap of monumental thunder. The combined shriek of wind whistling through fine seams in the poorly insulated walls and the shudder of the inn’s groaning foundation made his quills rise in anxious anticipation.

But he knew himself better than to blame some bad weather for his bout of insomnia.

It was that damn outlaw.

Apparently, it wasn’t enough to steal some mysterious gems – he had to go and steal any chance of a good night’s rest, too.

The outlaw heralded a flood of rampant thoughts that broke through Sonic’s mental dam and whisked him down a powerful, surging river of unwanted, unruly ruminations.

Sonic glared into the rafters unblinking, willing his tired eyes to give in to exhaustion and shut. In stubborn revolt, a single question was enough to rejuvenate his restless mind just as it was starting to settle.

What did Shadow know about the Mayor?

Sonic pressed his palms against his eyelids with a groan of anguish. It was one of many – too many – such questions driving a circuitous route through his head, like a rampaging stampede of cattle trapped behind the confines of sturdy, inescapable fencing.

Some of the answers he was starting to pull together from the strings left dangling by the outlaw, while the most important of his queries remained raveled in mystery.

With a displeased huff, Sonic peeled himself off the bed and sluggishly padded over to the small basin of water that he’d used to refresh earlier. He picked up a bar of lemongrass soap, giving it a grateful sniff before wetting it and using it to scrub his muzzle, taking his time washing away every little granule of dust and sand etched into his fur. He tried massaging small circles into his cheeks, then kneading the fur between his brows, all fruitless efforts trying to coax even a smidgen of relaxation into strained facial muscles.

His only triumph was in failing spectacularly.

He glowered at his weary countenance in the dresser’s mirror, light scowl tugging at his lips.

Well, fine. But if he had to be awake, then so did the source of his woes.

He tugged on his boots and flung open his door, stomping across the hallway and raising a fist to knock violently on the bandit’s. If rudely waking up his rival resulted in another fight, well, the sheriff mused, maybe that would be tiring enough to force him to get some sleep.

The distant sound of ringing metal from downstairs made his ears perk and head swivel, curious as to the source.

Sonic’s hand dropped back to his side as he turned and crept to the edge of the staircase, poking his head down past the banister to get a glimpse of the bar below.

A lone lantern burned low on the bar counter, tossing jagged, dancing shadows around the dark room. Shadow’s bright, flinty gaze drifted from where it had been contemplating the storm’s raging strength, to the top of the stairs where Sonic stooped. He was simply dressed, only donning his blouse, pants, fingerless gloves, and boots, much the same as the other hedgehog. He eyed his counterpart over the rim of a whiskey glass as he took a lackadaisical sip. Derision dripped from his silent sneer.

Neither said a word as Sonic descended the stairs to join him. Quiet understanding and a shaky truce prevailed as they acknowledged the dark circles under the other’s eyes, sleep having been elusive for them both.

Shadow watched the sheriff’s easygoing approach. He set his drink on the counter, palmed a steel, straight-edged dagger – not his curved obsidian one, Sonic noted – and returned to the task at hand.

He retrieved a whetstone from a bowl of water, setting it on the counter and angling his weapon just so before dragging it methodically against the fine-grained stone. The rhythmic sound, like a ringing bell chime, filled the space until Sonic gathered the courage to speak up.

"You pay for that?" he teased, indicating the glass of liquor with a nod. The flick of Shadow's tufted ear in his direction was his only indication the outlaw had heard him. Then, his only answer was another cheeky, slow sip of the drink.

Sonic slid into the stool across from the bandit, eyeing him with poorly concealed curiosity. Shadow finally returned his investigatory gaze after several tense moments of failing to will the embodiment of his problems away, tersely setting his weapon aside and gripping the bar top. Sonic held his glare with a soft look that was as baffling as it was contradictory. Shadow tried not to let his attention linger on the other hedgehog’s soft, tousled fur; on vibrant, sun-bleached quills that glowed as though the sky itself were trapped in them.

His gaze snapped back to the sheriff’s eyes: dangerously verdant, mesmerizing in their unabashed intensity…and a brewing catalyst for all the disastrous, desirous musings the outlaw wished he was able to abolish. He focused again on sharpening his blade.

“How many of those you keep on ‘ya?” Sonic snorted, motioning at the weapon.

“As many as I need.”

“I’ll keep that in mind. Couldn’t sleep?”

Shadow simply took another sip while his attention shifted outside, a streak of lightning trailing in a jagged arch across the dark, roiling sky.

He couldn’t reveal he had been haunted by questions he was too afraid of the answers to.

But while his own past remained a messy mental tapestry, tumultuous thoughts of the sheriff had equal parts robbed him of precious rest that evening. Every time Shadow thought he came close to understanding his mysterious adversary, he was thwarted by some unforeseen, outlandish, or completely irrational decision made by the sheriff.

He had stopped their first fight when noticing Shadow’s bleeding. He hadn’t taken advantage of his injury to put him in cuffs. What was worse? He had helped. He had cleaned and bandaged the bullet wound with no expectation attached. Sure, there was an unspoken, mutual…something between them.

But was that something the same reason Sonic had saved his life?

He could have let that shotgun blast finish him off during the heist, but he didn’t. He had tackled him out of the way to relative safety.

Every conclusion he tried to reach about the blue hedgehog, every assumption that would have revealed his intentions, every shred of potential understanding…was ultimately thwarted. He knew there was an underlying nefariousness to the law enforcer; there always was with his kind. Their motivations varied, but their selfishness was all the same.

Money. Power. Notoriety. His ilk was driven by one or the other. Sonic’s motivations may have been different, but they were selfish all the same. They had to be.

So then…

“Why?”

Shadow didn’t realize he had spoken aloud, too focused on his confusion. His outrage. His…gratitude.

He was grateful and more than a little touched by the sheriff's actions. Helping him. Saving him. Actions that had provided multiple and profound glimpses into the character of the hedgehog before him.

Sonic had to be acting in his own self-interests – because if he wasn’t, then the unfathomable but easily recognized connection slowly weaving their stories together would doom them both.

Sonic was watching him with unbridled fascination. He lifted a questioning brow as he could only guess at the other hedgehog’s meaning. When Shadow failed to elaborate, he chirped, “Why…what? ”

“Why are you here?” Shadow quickly covered.

Sonic tapped a finger to his chin, then grinned slowly. “How about this.” His tone was light-hearted. Amused. Out of place. It produced another complicated tug at Shadow’s heartstrings. “I’ll answer one of your questions if you answer one of mine. Seem fair?”

Claws that had been mindlessly sharpening his dagger stalled. The blade went slack before being set aside entirely. The outlaw eyed his rival, how he leaned against the bar counter with effortless apathy, blue fur like a swipe of radiant paint amidst droplets of warm, orange watercolor in the kerosene lantern’s dim light.

“Why are you here?” Shadow repeated.

“Like, here in this inn? Here, downstairs? Here, as an existential concept?” Sonic snickered as Shadow scowled, waving him off. “Alright, alright. I came out West a couple months ago – needed a change of scenery. Up north was getting to be...” Sonic traced an invisible pattern in the counter, finger following a wavy grain pattern. “…stifling.” He perked, all attention back on the bandit. “My turn. How’s your arm doin’?”

Before he could chastise Sonic for his weak, cryptic answer, Shadow’s breath caught in his throat. His sharp retort became buried beneath a voluminous influx of sudden, unexpected emotion.

Of all the questions the sheriff could ask, he pondered after his wellbeing?

“Fine,” he answered gruffly.

“Nah, c’mon, lemme see,” Sonic goaded, reaching across the bar and snagging the outlaw’s wrist. Too stunned by his audacity, Shadow was too slow to withdraw, and Sonic boldly shoved his sleeve up to get a glimpse of the arm in question. He clicked his tongue in reprimand. “When’s the last time you changed the bandages? Not since I did ‘em, right?”

Shadow stared in blatant bewilderment. Truthfully, he had been so wrapped up in his own thoughts, chasing sleep that remained vengefully out of reach before going downstairs for a distraction, that seeing to the bullet wound had never even crossed his mind.

“Hang on—”

Sonic leaned further over the counter, nearly toppling behind the bar, as he stretched down and snagged a small first aid kid from the shelves. “Ah! Saw this earlier. I doubt Basil’d mind. C’mere.” 

Sonic hopped over the counter to join Shadow, rummaging through the kit’s contents for alcohol and fresh bandages while the other stood dumbfounded. He scrambled for an excuse, an ulterior motive, any explanation for this intimate display. He settled on the sheriff trying to lull him into a false sense of security. He kept close tabs on his hands, ensuring they didn’t stray and seek out a hidden pair of handcuffs.

“You mind?”

The sheriff motioned at his shirt. With an acknowledging grunt, Shadow unbuttoned his cotton blouse and rolled his shoulders back to shrug out of the fabric, freeing his injured arm. A barely perceptible but sharp intake of air made his tufted black ear flick forward, cool gaze landing on a stunned pair of shimmering emerald eyes glued to his chest.

“I meant—” A muted gulp. “Just push up your sleeve and I can—”

“It’s fine,” Shadow growled, the matter settled. If he noticed the deep blush blooming across the sheriff’s pretty peach muzzle, he kept it to himself. While he unwrapped his old bandages, stiff from dried blood, Sonic soaked a clean cloth in the basin of water.

“Alright, don’t move.”

Shadow jolted and hissed a curse as Sonic tenderly swiped the cloth through his matted, sable pelt and over the scabbed wound. His dark fur rose simultaneously alongside his hackles, a guttural snarl escaping from peeled back lips as he snatched the sheriff’s wrist roughly, wrenching it back.

“I said don’t move,” Sonic admonished with an irritated roll of his eyes.

“What the hell are you doing?”

“What d’you think?”

Before Shadow could point out he was perfectly capable of washing and sterilizing his own wound, he wavered, protest lodged in his throat as the sheriff’s mystifying choice fully sunk in. He had nursed him at his town’s saloon, too. He had assumed it was so the sheriff could maintain some semblance of control over their situation – to ensure that should Shadow try anything, he could use the wound to his advantage. Cripple him. But now?

He released the sheriff’s wrist, thumb incidentally brushing against the twine bracelet hanging loosely from around a slender peach wrist. “Go ahead.”

“Gee, thanks,” Sonic muttered, unaware of the bandit’s musings and continuing to softly dab away the remaining streaks of dried blood congealed in his fur. Before he could question the strange reaction, however, Shadow spoke again.

“The woman who gave you that.” Sonic glanced down at the indicated bracelet. “Who is she?”

Shadow’s ears pinned back as he heard it: how desperately he was trying to sound nonchalant, and how incapable he was of concealing his ugly, absurd jealousy.

“‘Woman’? No, no. A little girl gave this to me.”

Sonic bit his lower lip to hold back a riotous laugh as he watched realization – and maybe a flicker of relief, if he was kidding himself – dawn on the outlaw’s face. Another puzzle piece quietly fell into place.

“Her name’s Cream,” the sheriff offered, “Said she wanted to help keep me safe, so gave it to me as a good luck charm.”

The outlaw’s expression shifted. It might have been imperceptible to anyone else; but Sonic, who had been memorizing every facet of his usually stoic, harsh features in the short time they had spent together, noted the difference in the unfurrowing of his bunched brow; the slight relaxation of his rigid shoulders.

“I see,” he stated simply.

A daunting, insurmountable silence enveloped them, until Shadow was once again the one to breach it. Sonic had swapped out the dirty cloth for an alcohol-soaked swatch when the outlaw curtly demanded, “Give me your wrist.”

“What? Why—?”

With an exasperated huff, Shadow snatched his palm and tugged him forward. Sonic nearly tripped over his own boots as he stumbled, bouncing off the outlaw before a powerful, steadying grip found his forearm. His fingers twitched as Shadow’s bare claws drifted over the inside of his wrist, the sensitive skin there burning beneath the intimate slide of a scarred paw pad on thin fur.

“What are you doing?” Sonic breathed.

He nearly jumped back out of the bandit’s grasp as he touched Cream’s lucky charm.

“Stop,” Shadow groused, “I’m not trying to take it. Hold still.”

Sonic frowned but let him continue. He watched with growing disbelief as the bandit unwound the sloppily tied bracelet, twisting the cord and fitting it snug before tying it into an impenetrable knot.

“I didn’t realize,” Shadow stated, and Sonic understood it was the closest he would probably ever get to an apology. “She’s right. Gaia knows you’ll need all the luck you can get out here.”

Sonic laughed abruptly, shoving Shadow’s good shoulder for the jab, whose snout crinkled with quiet amusement. The outlaw secretly relished the iota of distance it forced between them; grateful that air found its way back into his lungs. He hadn’t realized how close they had drifted.

The distance was demolished once more, Sonic bounding forward to finish cleaning and wrapping his arm. Shadow hastily barked out a question as an incidental caress to his inner elbow nearly made him buckle: “‘Shads’?” A touch of levity colored his tone as he carefully navigated them away from the charged moment.

"Heh. Like that? Figured if I was gonna be ‘hero’, you deserved a nifty nickname, too,” Sonic declared, equally relieved to find a foothold on which they could rediscover even a pretense of normalcy.

“And that’s what you settled on?”

A smile lifted the edge of thin lips. "Suits ‘ya. I'm counting that as your question, by the way. My turn.”

He had almost forgotten the sheriff’s childish game. He rolled his eyes but didn’t object, reaching for his whiskey glass with his good arm, struggling to quell his reaction to the sheriff’s prolonged proximity with a quick swig.

“So, the United Federation's got these emeralds you're after." That much Sonic had sorted out on his own. "Somehow, you learned about their existence, so then you go on this thieving spree."

"'Thieving spree'?" Shadow repeated. A loud thunk as he set his glass back on the hardwood counter.

"You build up this hefty bounty on your head by targeting government property, tryna find them. Either you knew about the little parlor tricks they let’cha do," Sonic rambled, wiggling his digits to pantomime Shadow's ability to teleport and earning an annoyed lift of an eyebrow in response, "And wanted ‘em for that, or you at least knew they were real valuable – valuable enough to risk repeated run-ins with the feds—”

"You content to conjecture, or you plan on askin’ a question?"

"Okay, okay. Why are you after these emeralds?”

It was a simple enough question, in Sonic’s opinion. He didn’t want to press too hard too soon and risk the tenuous peace they’d established for their midnight discussion. Asking about the Mayor directly was a no-go, at least for the moment, so he figured he’d butter up the outlaw with a couple softballs. He was obviously after the emeralds for their power, or for the price they’d fetch—

“I’ve seen the consequences of these emeralds being in the wrong hands.”

Sonic’s hands froze where they had finished wrapping fresh bandages around the outlaw’s bicep. He stared long enough that Shadow’s lips curved into a sinister frown. “What?”

“And you think your hands aren’t the wrong ones? That you’re doin’ the right thing?” Sonic asked incredulously.

Shadow’s ear flicked back with annoyance, cognac irises flashing in the low light. “I know I am.”

“Goin’ around the west robbin’ banks and trains and beatin’ up the law is just an odd way to do it, that’s all,” Sonic snipped.

Then, to his shock, Shadow chuckled. The deep, enchanting sound reverberated through his broad chest and effectively cut through the simmering strain of their devolving interaction, dissipating the unease and leaving a bubbly effervescence in its place. Sonic gulped while the outlaw collected himself, clearing his throat. “You’re not wrong,” he thrummed. “But that’s my answer all the same.”

“Fair enough,” Sonic said absently, eyes dragging up a long, dark torso, past the expanse of velvety, white chest fur, to settle on smoldering eyes. His chest constricted when the outlaw took a step forward, leaving the barest of inches between them. “It’s late. We should probably…”

“Tell me something,” Shadow interrupted. “On the train, you could’ve let the feds shoot me. You would’ve been well within your rights – wanted poster says dead or alive, after all.”

“I told you, I don’t want you dead.”

“And why’s that?”

“You’re kiddin’, right?”

The outlaw quirked an eyebrow to emphasize he was anything but.

“Don’t see why you should have to die,” Sonic answered honestly, a casual shrug doing a poor job of masking his nerves.

“Elaborate.”

“Ah, ah!” Sonic chastised good-naturedly, "You had your question. Now it’s my—”

“Still my turn. Your answer wasn’t good enough.”

A genuine laugh bubbled up from the sheriff’s throat at his counterpart’s response, turning from him to busy himself with repacking the medical kit. Shadow's ears surreptitiously tipped forward to drink in every decibel of the melodious sound. “I don’t think killing you equates to bringin’ you to justice, is all.”

“You don’t honestly believe that,” Shadow challenged.

“I…”

Sonic trailed off and his hands drifted to a halt. Shadow’s claws pressed into the polished wood countertop on either side of him. Behind him, he felt the heady, demanding presence of the outlaw boxing him in. He repressed a shiver, remaining calm despite the inherent danger of being at his rival’s mercy, caught in such a compromising position. But where he should have felt threatened – or at the very least, like an idiot for turning away from the criminal – instead, he felt a strange comfort from the warmth radiating against his back.

“I do,” he finished.

His lax quills were easily brushed aside as Shadow leaned forward, warm breath like smoke and cinnamon ghosting over his shoulder, tantalizingly close to his throat. “I tried to kill you.” He offered the grim reminder gently but seriously.

“Most of my friends out here have threatened to do me in at one point or another; you’re not the first. Ya’ll got itchy trigger fingers out west.”

“We are not friends.”

Sonic’s mouth quirked into an amused twist. “No? Then what are we?” 

He turned to face the outlaw, every brush of their limbs as he did so like the ignition of a dynamite stick, sending enough heat and power lancing through their bodies that the game of questions became the last stronghold of willpower either could muster to stop themselves from closing the distance – but neither hedgehog backed off, either.

"How do you know I won't try to kill you again?” Shadow asked.

“Answer my question first.”

“No.”

“You’re breaking the rules,” Sonic whispered, stomach somersaulting as the tip of Shadow’s nose grazed his own, canting forward to eliminate the last precious distance between them.

“I’m changin’ the rules,” he whispered back.

Sonic snorted, though a twinkle of amusement reached his eyes. “They’re there for a reason, outlaw.”

A ghost of a smirk. “Was never partial to ‘em myself, sheriff.”

Sonic basked in the sight of the tiny upturn of tan lips, licking his own. “You’re not gonna kill me, Shads.”

“No?”

“If you were going to, you would’ve already.”

“That so?”

“You’ve had plenty of opportunities to,” Sonic reiterated, “Or, hell, you could’ve left me behind with the feds. I’m the law, after all. But you didn’t. You brought me along."

"To repay my debt after you saved me.”

“Because you knew feds are the ‘shoot first, ask questions later’ type, and they would’ve been more inclined to interrogate my corpse than let me explain what was goin’ on.”

Bloodred eyes hardened.

"You lost an emerald ‘cause of it. You could’ve gotten away with both.”

“A temporary setback, and one I intend to correct.”

"You also haven't just point blank shot me,” Sonic purred, “You haven’t touched your pistol since the train car."

"I'm tempted every time you open your mouth,” Shadow snapped.

“What is it you’d said? ‘I’m not worth the cost of a bullet’?”

“Cut to the chase. What are you insinuating?”

“You’re not a killer.”

The rest of Shadow’s argument faltered at the statement, his glare boring into the mirthful green locked on to him. The unnamed emotion glittering in Sonic’s gaze made an answering fire blaze to life in Shadow’s. He tried to smother the reaction, but it spread fast and wild. His body prickled with unspent energy, like he had been baking in the desert sun for the past hour.

“You don’t know a damn thing about me,” he sneered.

“As much as you know about me,” Sonic returned, smiling breezily as he added, “Maybe we should change that. Stop makin’ assumptions about each other.”

“Why bother getting to know the outlaw you intend to arrest?”

”You’re more than just an outlaw I ‘intend to arrest’.”

Shadow’s heart thundered against his ribcage as aggressively as the sheets of rain buffeting the first floor’s windows, before stuttering to a halt just long enough for logic to prevail over the scalding tension. He pushed off the counter, snagging his knife and shirt from the countertop, pocketing the former and slipping on the latter. Seeing his slim window of questioning closing, Sonic surged forward, gripping the blouse’s lapel and dragging Shadow back.

"You know what I'm gonna ask next," he said, eyes tracing a torturously slow path up to meet Shadow’s.

He did. It was a wonder the sheriff hadn’t yet tried to bring up Clutch.

“Just one question about him.”

Shadow hesitated, considering the possibility of answering the sheriff’s likely inquiry: what do you know about the Mayor?

“Please.”

Pain and shame seized him, torching any further consideration.

He took Sonic’s wrists, prying his gloved fingers off his collar. The blue hedgehog huffed in frustration as his hands were firmly placed back at his sides and the bandit replied, “Game’s over, hero. Get some rest.”

He turned, spurs clinking with each step toward the staircase.

Sonic reigned in his unspooling impatience, knowing he wasn't going to get any closer to the answers he wanted by forcing the issue. They had more time, each with their emerald the other wanted. He liked to think they had made progress tonight, despite its rocky end.

He packed up the kit and returned it to its shelf. With a glance at the half-finished glass Shadow had left behind, he tossed back the remainder of the liquor with a grimace, then set the empty container in a small sink along with the bowl and soiled bandages.

As he set to washing, Shadow passed the scuffed, worn banister and hummed, almost too quiet to catch: “Good night, Sonic.”

Sonic looked in astonishment to the staircase, but the outlaw was already ascending the steps. Halfway up, the sheriff finally found his voice, offering in return a sincere, albeit hesitant, “Good night, Shadow.”

Emerald eyes glanced off ruby as they shared a final, electric look, moments before the outlaw disappeared onto the second floor.

Sonic followed shortly thereafter, collapsing atop his mattress. He had hardly tugged off his boots before exhaustion claimed him. Soft, maroon eyes and the smell of cedar and lavender cushioned the way to pleasant dreams.