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The main thing he felt was tired.
The crab had already been cleaned out, but while sitting on the same red seat that He had loved so-
He could only feel tired and empty.
It wasn't pretty at all; most everything he had to throw out.
All he had left was the blanket he had made for the Doctor, along with the chair he wasn't sure would ever be dry again.
And, thankfully, everything that was in the cabinets or locked away- one night they had to go through a rough patch and Robotnik spent the next week making places that would be “unaffected by anything as menial as waves.”
The Doctor was known for efficiency, so in all of his robots, he made sure they would be able to survive anything.
He wonders if that would imply that if he were the Doctor that he would be able to make it through this.
He turns on some music, the trumpets trying to lift his spirit.
Wandering over to the bathroom, he remembers that there was one thing he was made for. He may not be perfect, but no matter what, it's his job to stay by the Doctor's side- forever.
As he picks up the bottle, he wonders if he would have wanted him to follow him in death. Sometimes it doesn't matter what a person wants- the only thing that seems to matter is what they need.
He needs the Doctor.
His heart aches in his chest when he even attempts to think of breaking away from his position. There is one thing he is made for, and he and the Doctor never believed in “till death do us part.”
He almost smiled as he remembered when he and the Doctor had been in this very place.
The blood had been flowing slowly down his side, and Robotnik moved to begin disinfecting it.
“I leave for twenty minutes, and you go and get yourself stabbed. Wow, way to try and run away, Agent.”
Robotnik finished disinfecting the wound and pressed a ball of gauze to the wound with one hand and picked up the Agent's face in the other.
“You are a fool if you think you can leave me in death. Dogs follow their owners.”
He remembers just smiling up at him and nodding, rubbing his head into the hand holding it.
That rule goes both ways.
He opens the bottle and swallows as much as is left. It was only about ¼ of the bottle, but it should be enough for this.
Walking back out into the living room area, he imagines how it would feel if he danced with him just one more time. He says, following the foot patterns he would normally follow for his and his Doctor's dances.
“Start spreading the news-” His voice cracks slightly as he leans down into where he would dip his partner.
“I am leaving today.” He feels a pain shoot throughout his body and sits down on Robotnik's old seat.
He puts a hand on his face, the warm skin making him feel a bit better.
People like to say that before you die, you see all of the happiest moments of your life.
His vision begins to fade, and he hears a lovely voice.
“You may be a fucking idiot, but you are my idiot. The moment that old man tries to take you away again, we will have a dead man.”
He can almost see the person in front of him. He remembers that day well; it had been the first time he truly felt like he belonged.
The black coat had draped behind him elegantly, and his shouts at Walter over the phone had brought a real smile to his face.
Maybe he will get to be with Robotnik again. If science misled us, then maybe one day he will see that face and feel the loving embrace of the man he dedicated his life to.
A soft smile goes across his face as he burrows deeper into the couch and feels the sweet calm he was dreaming of.
The sound of hydraulics tries to grab his attention, but he just feels so warm and so safe. The darkness takes his vision, and it's almost like he can feel Robotnik's hands with him, his voice in his ear.
This is what he wanted.
The cries from the man over him would go unheard and unanswered.
The Agent's last day had passed; all he could do was cradle the increasingly cool body in his arms until he accepted the fact.