Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The apartment was quiet. Too quiet.

Amy Rose sat curled up on the couch, her pink quills falling in messy waves around her face. The faint glow of the lamp beside her was the only light in the room, casting long shadows across the walls. She clutched a pillow to her chest, the fabric damp from her tears. On the coffee table lay a small, framed picture of her and Sonic—laughing, carefree, the way they used to be. She couldn’t bring herself to put it away.

Her hand drifted unconsciously to her stomach. The smallest swell was there now, faint but undeniable. A reminder of what she still had, even if Sonic had walked away.

“Why… why would you say you wanted this… and then leave me?” she whispered into the empty air, her voice cracking.

It had been nearly a week since Sonic left, but it still didn’t feel real. One moment, Sonic was pacing around the apartment with restless energy, avoiding her gaze. The next, he was gone, leaving behind nothing but a hastily scribbled note that didn’t even say goodbye properly. Just an excuse. Just distance.

Amy had replayed their last conversation in her head so many times it was like a broken record. She had told him the news—nervously, excitedly, expecting the kind of grin he always wore when talking about dreams of the future. But his smile had faltered, and the silence that followed had been colder than any words could be. He had said he needed “time to think.” He hadn’t stayed long enough to give her the answer.

Her fingers brushed the picture frame again. The couple in the photo looked so young, so full of hope. Sonic’s arm draped lazily around her shoulders, her head tilted toward him with that bright smile she had always worn around him. It had been taken years ago, back when the world felt simple. Before the long fights, the endless waiting, the arguments that left her hollow.

Before seven years turned into nothing.

Amy shut her eyes, but the image of Sonic with someone else—another woman, another smile—burned behind them. Knuckles had let it slip to Rouge, and though Amy hadn’t wanted to believe it, the truth always found its way in. Sonic hadn’t left because he was afraid. He had left because he wanted something… or someone… else.

The realization made her stomach twist in ways that had nothing to do with morning sickness.

The sound of her phone buzzing on the counter startled her. She dragged herself up to check it, wiping her eyes quickly with the back of her hand. The message was from Rouge.

Rouge: I’m coming over soon. Don’t argue.

Amy sighed softly. Rouge had been persistent since the breakup, checking on her constantly. It was comforting, but also overwhelming. Amy wasn’t sure how much more pity she could take. Her friends meant well, but every hug, every sympathetic look, every whispered “you’ll get through this” only reminded her of what she’d lost.

What she didn’t expect was the knock at her door a half hour later—firm, steady, and not at all like Rouge’s casual tapping.

Amy frowned, setting the phone aside. She shuffled over and opened the door.

And there he was.

Shadow the Hedgehog stood on her doorstep, tall and composed, his crimson eyes unreadable. His presence filled the doorway, dark and commanding, but there was something softer in the way he looked at her. Not pity, but something closer to quiet concern.

Amy’s breath caught. “S-Shadow? What are you doing here?”

“Rouge told me,” he said simply, his deep voice steady. “About what happened. About him.”

Amy swallowed hard, looking away. Her throat tightened. The last thing she wanted was another lecture, another reminder of how foolish she’d been to trust Sonic.

“You don’t have to—” she started, but Shadow cut her off.

“I’m not here to tell you what you already know,” he said, his tone sharp, but not unkind. “I’m here because someone needs to be honest about this. Sonic ran away. He left you and your child behind. That’s not strength. That’s cowardice.”

Amy flinched. His words hit like cold steel, but there was no malice in them. Just truth. And maybe, just maybe, truth was what she needed.

Her lips trembled as tears welled in her eyes again. She covered her face with her hands. “I… I don’t know what to do, Shadow. I thought—” Her voice cracked, breaking into sobs. “I thought he loved me.”

For a long moment, there was only the sound of her crying. Then, to her surprise, Shadow stepped inside, shutting the door behind him. His boots were heavy against the wooden floor as he moved closer, but he didn’t crowd her. He didn’t touch her. He just stood there like a silent pillar of strength.

Amy sank back onto the couch, her knees weak. Shadow remained standing, arms crossed, his sharp gaze studying her. The silence between them stretched, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. It was… grounding.

Finally, he spoke again. “Love doesn’t abandon you when it becomes inconvenient. Don’t confuse his weakness for your failure.”

Amy lowered her hands slowly, her emerald eyes searching his face. Shadow’s expression was unreadable, but there was something in his gaze that she hadn’t seen in a long time—steadiness. A promise.

Her throat tightened. “Why do you even care?”

The question lingered in the air, heavier than she intended. Shadow looked at her for a long while, his jaw tightening. “Because I know what it’s like to lose everything,” he said finally, his voice low, almost reluctant. “And I know what it’s like to stand alone in the wreckage.”

Amy’s breath hitched. He didn’t talk about himself often—ever, really. She had only caught glimpses, whispers from Rouge, hints of Maria’s shadow still haunting him. For him to admit even this much… it meant something.

She looked down at her trembling hands, fingers curling into fists. “I don’t want to be alone,” she whispered. “But I don’t know if I can be strong enough for this. For… for the baby.”

Shadow stepped closer, the sound of his footsteps deliberate, careful. He didn’t sit, didn’t reach out, but his voice softened as he said, “You don’t have to do this alone. Not anymore.”

Amy’s heart clenched. Something fragile and unfamiliar flickered in her chest—hope. Not the naive, reckless kind she used to cling to with Sonic. This was different. Quiet. Uncertain. But real.

For the first time since Sonic left, Amy felt the faintest spark of warmth. It wasn’t happiness, not yet. But it was something to hold on to.

Outside, the night deepened. Inside, Amy leaned back against the couch, her tears drying on her cheeks. Shadow stayed standing near the door, silent, watchful, like a sentinel guarding her fragile heart.

And though neither of them said it aloud, something had shifted.

The pieces of her shattered promises were still sharp and broken around her—but maybe, just maybe, she wouldn’t have to pick them up alone.

Chapter Text

The rain had started sometime after Shadow arrived. It tapped softly against the apartment windows, a steady rhythm that filled the silence between them.

Amy sat curled up on the couch, her hands folded over her stomach as if protecting what lay within. She had stopped crying, but the heaviness in her chest lingered, pressing down like a weight she couldn’t shake. Across the room, Shadow leaned against the wall, arms crossed. His eyes, sharp and unyielding, had softened only slightly since she’d let him inside.

For a long time, neither of them spoke.

Amy had always known Shadow from a distance. Their lives intersected often—on battlefields, missions, even the occasional gathering with friends—but she had never sought his company the way she did Sonic’s or even Tails’. Shadow was always… separate. Not cold exactly, but distant, like a storm cloud on the horizon. Present, powerful, but unreachable.

And yet, in the quiet of her apartment, with her life crumbling around her, he was the only one who didn’t feel like he was suffocating her.

Her friends had all tried, of course. Tails with his calm rationality, offering to map out “next steps.” Cream with her sweet optimism, reminding Amy that children were blessings. Rouge with her fierce loyalty, swearing she’d claw Sonic’s eyes out if she saw him again. Amy loved them for it, but their words were fragile. Temporary. Like patchwork laid over a wound that kept bleeding.

Shadow, however, wasn’t trying to patch anything. He wasn’t trying to fix her or distract her or push her forward. He was simply here—solid, unflinching, grounding her in a way no one else had.

“Are you planning to stand there all night?” Amy finally asked, her voice breaking the silence.

Shadow’s eyes flicked toward her. “If that’s what it takes.”

Amy blinked at him. “You don’t have to babysit me, Shadow. I’ll… I’ll be fine.”

“You don’t look fine,” he countered simply.

Her lips parted, but she found no argument. She exhaled shakily, sinking deeper into the cushions. “I don’t even know why I trust you being here. We’ve never been close.”

Shadow’s gaze lingered on her, unreadable. Then he said, “You trust me because I won’t lie to you. And I won’t leave.”

The words struck her harder than she expected. I won’t leave. They were the exact opposite of what Sonic had done. She looked away quickly, her eyes stinging.

Shadow pushed himself off the wall and crossed the room. He didn’t sit beside her, but took the armchair across from the couch, his posture composed, precise. Like he was both present and guarding a distance he didn’t want to cross without permission.

Amy studied him quietly. His crimson stripes caught the low lamplight, his expression a mask of calm neutrality. But beneath that stillness, she thought she saw something else—a flicker of restraint. Concern, maybe. The kind that came from someone who wasn’t sure how to offer comfort, but wanted to try.

The rain outside grew heavier, drumming against the windows. Amy let her gaze drift to the glass, watching the droplets streak downward. She hugged her pillow tighter, her thoughts restless.

“You know…” she began softly, “when Sonic and I first started talking about a family, he made it sound like a dream. Like the kind of adventure even he couldn’t run away from. He said he wanted to see a little one with my smile. That it’d be worth slowing down for.” She gave a hollow laugh. “And I believed him. Every word.”

Shadow’s jaw tightened, though he didn’t interrupt.

Amy’s voice wavered. “I keep thinking—maybe I pushed too hard. Maybe I wanted too much. If I hadn’t told him, maybe he’d still be here. Maybe—”

“Stop.”

The word was firm, sharp. Amy looked at him, startled.

Shadow leaned forward slightly, his crimson eyes locking on hers. “Do not blame yourself for his weakness. You gave him trust. He discarded it. That is not on you.”

Her throat tightened. “But I…”

“There is no ‘but,’” Shadow said, his tone unyielding. “You think you should have pretended forever? Denied your own heart just to keep him from running? That isn’t love. That’s a cage.”

Amy stared at him, the truth of his words cutting deeper than she wanted to admit. Tears welled again, but she blinked them back. She was tired of crying.

“Do you think I was stupid?” she whispered. “For believing in him that long?”

Shadow’s reply was immediate. “No.”

Her lips trembled.

“You believed in someone you loved,” he continued, softer now. “That isn’t stupidity. It’s strength. It takes courage to trust like that. But it takes greater strength to move forward when that trust is broken.”

Amy looked down at her hands, trembling in her lap. For the first time in days, she didn’t feel like a fool.

The clock on the wall ticked softly. The rain eased into a gentler rhythm, a lull that made her eyelids heavy. She hadn’t slept properly since Sonic left. Every night was the same—tears, silence, the echo of his absence.

But now, with Shadow sitting across from her, the weight felt… different. Not gone, not even lighter, but steadier. As though someone else was carrying a corner of it.

Her voice was small when she spoke again. “Will you stay until I fall asleep?”

Shadow didn’t hesitate. “Yes.”

Amy nodded, her eyes fluttering shut. She curled into the couch cushions, hugging her pillow close. The sound of the rain filled her ears, mingling with the quiet hum of Shadow’s presence. Safe. Steady. Civil, yes—but more than that.

Shadow remained silent, his gaze fixed on her as her breathing slowed. His thoughts were his own, but they weighed heavy. He hadn’t expected to find himself here, in this quiet apartment, watching over someone who had always been more acquaintance than friend. Yet here he was. Because Rouge had told him. Because something in him had stirred when he heard of Sonic’s betrayal.

Because he couldn’t stand the thought of her facing this night alone.

As Amy drifted into sleep, Shadow’s chest tightened with something he hadn’t felt in years. Responsibility. Not the kind born of duty or mission, but of choice.

He sat there like a sentinel in the dim light, the quiet storm outside echoing the one within him.

And for the first time in a long while, Shadow the Hedgehog did not feel entirely alone.

Chapter Text

The apartment was quiet, save for the rain that whispered against the windows and the steady tick of the wall clock.

Shadow sat in the armchair, his arms folded, crimson eyes fixed on the faint glow of the lamp. Across from him, Amy slept curled on the couch, her pillow hugged close, her breathing finally even.

For a long time, Shadow didn’t move. He didn’t need to. His very presence was enough—an anchor in a space that felt hollow with absence.

He wasn’t used to this, sitting in stillness with someone else. His nights were usually solitary, filled with restless walks, long silences, or missions that left no room for reflection. Yet here he was, keeping watch over a girl who had always been more distant acquaintance than confidante.

And still, he couldn’t bring himself to leave.

His gaze shifted to her face, softened in sleep. The dampness of dried tears clung to her fur, the exhaustion etched into the corners of her eyes even as she rested. He thought of Rouge’s words, the clipped irritation in her voice when she told him what Sonic had done. Shadow had expected disappointment—maybe even anger—but not this. Not abandonment of such magnitude.

'Coward,' Shadow thought bitterly. He ran when she needed him most.

It was not love that drove Sonic—it was selfishness. Shadow knew the type well. He had seen too many who fled from the weight of responsibility, too many who abandoned others when things became difficult. To see Amy left behind, carrying both heartbreak and the life of another inside her… it stirred something in him he didn’t want to name.

Shadow leaned back in the chair, his eyes slipping closed briefly. He listened to the rhythm of the rain, the slow hush of Amy’s breathing. He told himself he was here out of obligation, that no one deserved to face a night like this alone. But the truth pressed at the edges of his thoughts.

He didn’t just pity her. He respected her.

She had trusted openly, loved unconditionally, even when it left her exposed to pain. He had spent his life shutting the world out, guarding what little remained of his heart. And yet here she was—broken, but still holding on.

Shadow’s eyes opened again, piercing the dim light. His gaze returned to Amy, and he found himself wondering how she could trust him at all. He wasn’t kind. He wasn’t gentle. And yet she had asked him to stay.

The clock ticked on. Midnight came and went.

Then, the silence broke.

Amy stirred suddenly, shifting with a faint groan. Shadow’s ears twitched. He leaned forward slightly as she pressed a hand to her stomach, her face tightening in discomfort. Within moments, she sat up abruptly, her breaths quick and shallow.

Shadow was on his feet instantly.

“Rose?”

Her eyes flicked to him, wide and apologetic. “S-sorry—” Her voice broke as she bolted toward the bathroom.

Shadow followed without hesitation, though he kept a respectful distance at the doorway. The sounds that followed were harsh, raw—Amy retching, her body trembling with the strain.

His hands clenched at his sides. He had faced battlefields, chaos, destruction beyond comprehension, but this—watching someone fight through something so small, so human—left him unsettled in a way he couldn’t describe.

After several long minutes, the sounds faded into shaky breaths. Amy sat on the cool tile floor, pale and exhausted, her arms wrapped around herself.

Shadow stepped inside, crouching near her without crowding her space. “Are you alright?”

She let out a weak laugh, though her eyes shimmered with fresh tears. “Morning sickness… though it doesn’t care what time it is. I’m sorry you had to…” She trailed off, her voice small.

“You don’t need to apologize,” Shadow said firmly. “This isn’t weakness. It’s part of what you’re carrying.”

Amy blinked at him, startled by the conviction in his tone. Her throat tightened. “Sonic never stayed long enough to see this part,” she whispered bitterly.

The words twisted something sharp inside Shadow. He didn’t reply immediately. Instead, he reached for a towel hanging by the sink, wetting a corner of it under the tap before offering it to her.

Amy hesitated, then took it, pressing the cool fabric to her mouth. Her hands trembled, but his steady presence kept her grounded.

“You shouldn’t be alone through this,” Shadow said at last, his voice low, steady.

Amy’s eyes lifted to his, soft and uncertain. For a moment, the bathroom was quiet but for the hum of the overhead light and the lingering patter of rain.

She swallowed, her voice breaking. “Do you mean that, Shadow? Or are you just saying it because you feel sorry for me?”

His eyes narrowed, his tone sharp. “I don’t waste words. If I say I’ll stand by you, then I will.”

Amy’s breath caught, the certainty in his voice washing over her like warmth against the cold ache in her chest. She pressed the towel tighter to her lips, tears gathering but not falling. Not this time.

Shadow rose and extended a hand. For a moment, Amy stared at it. His palm was broad, dark against the soft glow of the bathroom light. He wasn’t the type to reach out easily—she knew that much. Which made it matter even more.

Slowly, she placed her hand in his. His grip was firm, steady, pulling her to her feet without effort.

“Come on,” he said, his voice softer now. “You need rest.”

Amy leaned against him slightly as they walked back to the living room. His stride was even, unshakable, and for the first time since Sonic left, she didn’t feel like her world was about to collapse beneath her feet.

Once back at the couch, Amy sank down, exhaustion heavy in her limbs. Shadow adjusted the blanket draped over the backrest and set it gently over her. His movements were deliberate, almost awkward, but there was care in them.

Amy looked up at him, her emerald eyes shining with a mixture of gratitude and vulnerability. “You’re… different than I thought,” she admitted quietly.

Shadow arched a brow. “How so?”

“I always thought you were just… cold. Distant. But you’re here.” Her lips trembled into the faintest of smiles. “And you don’t have to be.”

He held her gaze, his silence stretching before he finally said, “Maybe I understand more than you think.”

Amy’s smile faded into something softer. She didn’t press him, didn’t ask the questions lingering in her mind about Maria, about the scars he carried. Instead, she pulled the blanket tighter around her and whispered, “Thank you, Shadow.”

He gave a slight nod, then returned to the armchair.

The rain had gentled into a soft drizzle, the clock ticking steadily past one in the morning. Amy’s breathing evened out again, her eyes fluttering shut. But before she drifted off, she murmured one last thing into the quiet.

“I… I trust you.”

Shadow’s chest tightened, though his face remained impassive. He sat in silence long after she had fallen asleep, the weight of her words echoing inside him.

Trust.

It was something he had not been given in a long time. Something he wasn’t sure he deserved. And yet, she had given it freely.

The night stretched on. And though the storm outside finally faded, something else remained—an unspoken bond, fragile but real, forged in the stillness of a night that neither of them would forget.

Chapter Text

The clock ticked on toward the small hours of morning, the world beyond Amy’s apartment hushed beneath the fading drizzle. Inside, the only movement was the steady rise and fall of her chest beneath the blanket.

Shadow sat in the armchair, his posture rigid but his gaze softened in rare introspection. The lamplight cast a pale glow over the room, catching the strands of Amy’s fur where they framed her sleeping face. She had finally drifted into a peace she hadn’t known for days, and Shadow found himself unwilling to disturb it.

For so long, he had lived with a heart braced against the world. His existence was one of missions, of battles, of keeping his distance. He was the weapon people turned to when they wanted destruction halted, not comfort given. Yet now, in this small living room, with the soft sounds of sleep and the lingering faintness of tears still clinging to the air, he felt something stir inside him that he didn’t fully recognize.

He leaned back, crimson eyes narrowing on the shadows shifting against the walls. He thought of Sonic again—his cowardice, his absence. The bitter taste of contempt returned, but it was joined by something heavier, sharper. If Sonic would not stay, then someone had to.

Shadow had never been one for obligation born of pity. He despised it when others pretended to care out of duty, their hearts never truly in what they promised. But this—this wasn’t pity. It was something else.

Maria’s face flickered in his memory, her voice soft and unwavering: “Shadow, promise me you’ll protect the ones who need you.”

He closed his eyes, drawing in a slow breath. He had failed Maria once. The pain of that failure haunted him every waking moment. But here, now, was someone broken and alone, someone who still clung desperately to the fragile thread of hope for the child she carried.

He opened his eyes again, gaze hardening with resolve.

He would not abandon her.

Not for a night. Not for a week. For however long it took—for the entirety of her pregnancy, and beyond if she would allow it. Amy deserved more than to weather this storm alone. She deserved to be seen, supported, reminded that her trust had not been misplaced.

Shadow let out a faint breath, the weight of the vow settling into his chest. It was silent, unspoken, but as real as any promise he had ever made.

Hours passed, and the night thinned toward morning. Shadow didn’t sleep. He didn’t need to. Instead, he sat in steady silence, watching over her until the first gray light of dawn slipped through the curtains.

When Amy stirred at last, blinking against the soft morning glow, the apartment no longer carried the heaviness of the night before. The faint aroma of something warm filled the air, coaxing her upright with sleepy confusion.

Her eyes widened as she turned toward the small kitchen.

Shadow stood there, the stove lit beneath a pan, steam curling upward as he turned something with a measured hand. The sight was almost surreal—Shadow the Hedgehog, the ultimate life form, standing in her kitchen cooking breakfast as though it were the most natural thing in the world.

He glanced over his shoulder when he noticed her watching. “You’re awake.”

Amy pulled the blanket tighter around her shoulders, still blinking in disbelief. “Are you… making breakfast?”

He turned back to the stove. “You need something in your stomach. Especially after last night.”

Her face warmed, both from the memory of her morning sickness and from the blunt, almost awkward care in his voice. She rose slowly, padding toward the kitchen with hesitant steps.

The table had already been set—simple, but thoughtful. Plates, utensils, even a mug beside the kettle where tea steeped in gentle swirls.

Amy sat down, her fingers brushing the rim of the mug. “You didn’t have to do all this.”

Shadow set the pan aside, sliding the food onto a plate with precise motions. “I told you,” he said, placing it in front of her, “you’re not going through this alone.”

Her eyes lifted to his, searching. The firmness in his gaze left no room for doubt. He meant it. Every word.

Amy’s throat tightened, her heart swelling in a way she hadn’t expected so soon. She picked up her fork, her hands trembling slightly—not from weakness this time, but from the sheer unfamiliarity of being cared for so openly.

The first bite tasted better than anything she could remember eating in weeks, not because of the food itself, but because of what it meant.

Shadow sat across from her, arms folded, watching silently as she ate. He wasn’t smiling—he rarely did—but there was a steadiness in his presence that felt like the closest thing to safety she had known in a long while.

When she finally set her fork down, her eyes glistened. “Shadow… thank you.”

He inclined his head, his tone low but certain. “You don’t need to thank me. Just focus on taking care of yourself.”

For the first time since Sonic had left, Amy believed she might actually be able to.

And for the first time since Maria, Shadow believed he had found a promise worth keeping.

Chapter Text

The days that followed blurred into a rhythm Amy hadn’t expected.

It wasn’t routine, not yet. Her life had fractured too recently for that. The ache of Sonic’s absence still cut sharp whenever her mind wandered. The echoes of his voice, the memory of his promises—we’ll have a family someday—rose up like ghosts when she least expected them. And yet, threaded through those echoes, something new had begun to weave itself quietly into her days.

Shadow.

It started with simple things.

On the second morning after he had stayed, Amy woke to the sound of her door unlocking. She sat up abruptly, heart thudding, only to see Shadow step inside with a bag in hand.

“I thought I told you I don’t need charity,” she said quickly, though her voice softened at the sight of him.

He ignored her protest, placing the bag on the counter. “It’s not charity. It’s necessity.”

She opened the bag, blinking at the sight of fresh groceries—milk, fruit, a loaf of bread, and, tucked neatly at the bottom, a box of ginger tea. She glanced at him in surprise. “You remembered?”

His crimson eyes flicked toward her. “You said the sickness comes worse in the mornings. The tea helps.”

Amy’s throat tightened. She looked down at the items again, her hand brushing over the box of tea. He had noticed. He had listened.

It was such a small thing, but it mattered.

By the third day, she caught him sweeping her porch. He didn’t announce it. He didn’t even ask. She opened the door to find him there, broom in hand, his movements precise and unhurried.

“Shadow…” She stood in the doorway, uncertain whether to laugh or scold him.

He glanced at her briefly, then returned to his task. “You shouldn’t be straining yourself.”

Her lips curved into the faintest smile. “I’m pregnant, not broken.”

“Doesn’t matter,” he replied flatly. “You need to be careful anyway.”

Something in his tone silenced her protest.

By the end of the week, his presence had threaded itself into corners of her life she hadn’t even realized were empty. She would hear a knock on the door only to find him holding a bag of vegetables from the market, or a folded blanket he claimed Rouge insisted she might need. Sometimes he simply sat with her, silent but steady, his crimson gaze settling on whatever book she held or project she had abandoned halfway through.

Amy tried not to think too hard about it. She told herself he was only here because Sonic had failed—because Shadow despised cowardice and would not let her suffer because of another’s weakness. And yet, each time she saw him in her kitchen or felt the air settle differently when he entered the room, she realized it was more than that.

He wasn’t here out of obligation. He was here because he had chosen to be.

One evening, Amy found herself staring at the vase of fresh flowers on her counter. She hadn’t bought them—she knew that much. They had simply appeared, placed with quiet deliberation where she couldn’t miss them. Their scent filled the room, light and sweet.

She turned to Shadow, who sat in his usual armchair, arms folded, gaze fixed out the window. “Did you bring those?”

His eyes shifted to her, unreadable. “They’re just flowers.”

Her smile softened. “You don’t strike me as the type to buy flowers.”

“I’m not,” he admitted. His voice was blunt, but there was no sharpness in it. “But you looked like you needed something alive in here.”

Amy’s breath caught. She blinked quickly, hiding the sudden prick of tears. “Thank you,” she whispered.

He didn’t reply, but his gaze lingered on her a moment longer before turning back to the fading light outside.

---

Amy hadn’t realized how heavy the silence in her apartment had been until Shadow filled it. It wasn’t that he spoke much—he didn’t. But his presence shifted the weight of the air, steadying it. He didn’t fidget, didn’t force conversation, didn’t dance around the truth of what had happened. He simply was there.

It was strange, adjusting to him. For years she had thought of Shadow as distant, enigmatic—more force of nature than friend. They had crossed paths in battle, exchanged words when necessity demanded it, but never this. Never the shared space of quiet mornings, never the familiarity of two mugs of tea steaming on the counter.

Yet as days became weeks, Amy found her guard lowering around him. She didn’t feel the need to apologize when her emotions swelled suddenly, or when the ache of Sonic’s betrayal hit her harder than expected. Shadow didn’t judge. He didn’t try to fix her pain with hollow words. He simply stood beside it, steady and unshaken.

And in his steadiness, she began to breathe again.

One night, as she sat curled on the couch with a blanket wrapped around her shoulders, Shadow returned from some errand she hadn’t asked him to run. He set a small container on the table in front of her.

“What’s this?” she asked.

“Soup,” he said simply.

She lifted the lid, steam curling upward. The scent hit her, warm and savory. Her stomach growled softly, and her cheeks flushed with embarrassment.

“You should eat,” he said.

Amy looked at him for a long moment, then picked up the spoon. The first sip spread warmth through her chest, loosening something she hadn’t realized was wound tight.

Her eyes shimmered. “You’re making it really hard not to cry all the time, you know.”

His brow arched faintly. “Then don’t hold it back.”

She let out a shaky laugh, wiping at her eyes with her sleeve. “You’re really something, Shadow. I don’t know how to explain it… but I feel safe when you’re here.”

The words caught him off guard. He didn’t show it outwardly, but something stirred in his chest, unexpected and sharp. Safety. It wasn’t a word he had ever expected to be associated with him.

He looked at her, her small frame wrapped in the blanket, her eyes soft but tired. For once, he didn’t deflect or let silence speak for him.

“You should,” he said firmly. “Because I’m not leaving.”

Amy froze, spoon halfway to her lips. The weight of his words sank in slowly, wrapping around her heart like the blanket around her shoulders. She swallowed hard, setting the spoon down with trembling fingers.

“Not leaving…” she whispered.

He leaned back, eyes narrowing with conviction. “Not for the rest of this. Not until the child is here. And not if you still want me around after that.”

Tears welled in Amy’s eyes before she could stop them. She pressed a hand to her mouth, the sob slipping past anyway. “You mean that?”

“I don’t waste words,” he replied.

Her tears spilled freely, but for once they weren’t only from grief. They were from relief, from gratitude so fierce it almost hurt. She nodded quickly, her voice breaking as she whispered, “Thank you, Shadow.”

Her chest felt light. Her heart felt whole again, though only for this moment, but whole.

---

That night, as she drifted toward sleep, Amy thought of Sonic less. Not because the pain had gone—it hadn’t—but because the presence beside her now carried a promise Sonic never had.

And Shadow, sitting in his usual watchful silence, knew without needing to say it that he had taken his vow further. This wasn’t just about standing in the space Sonic had left empty. This was about being there because he chose to be.

For Amy. For the child.

For something worth staying for.

Chapter Text

The days stretched into something resembling stability. Not peace—but steadiness. Shadow’s presence lingered in Amy’s apartment like the soft hum of the refrigerator or the ticking of the wall clock. Subtle, constant, grounding.

Amy had begun to notice the difference most in the evenings. When she curled up on the couch, blanket pulled to her chin, Shadow always seemed to claim the armchair without asking. He wasn’t loud or intrusive; he was simply there, as much a part of the space as the air she breathed. And somehow, that alone was enough to ease the ache inside her.

On one such evening, Amy sat with a book open on her lap, though her eyes had glazed over the words long ago. Shadow sat opposite her, the dim lamplight catching the edge of his fur as he leaned back, arms crossed.

“You’re staring at the same page,” he said suddenly, his voice low, cutting through the silence.

Amy blinked, startled, then gave a sheepish laugh. “Busted.”

His brow arched faintly. “What’s on your mind?”

Her smile faltered, her fingers tightening on the book. She hesitated, biting her lip before answering. “I… have an appointment tomorrow. With the doctor.”

Shadow’s eyes sharpened slightly, though he didn’t speak right away.

Amy looked down at the book in her lap. “It’s just the first one. They’ll do some tests, maybe an ultrasound. I’m nervous. I thought I’d be going with…” She stopped herself, her throat tightening around the name she refused to say. Sonic’s absence still lingered like a bruise she couldn’t stop pressing.

She drew a shaky breath, forcing her gaze upward. “Would you… come with me, Shadow?”

For a moment, silence stretched between them. Her heart thudded painfully, afraid she had overstepped, asked too much.

But then Shadow leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees, his crimson eyes steady on hers. “If you want me there, I’ll be there.”

Relief surged through her chest so swiftly it almost brought tears. She nodded quickly, her lips trembling into a fragile smile. “Thank you.”

Shadow leaned back again, but something in his gaze lingered—softer, contemplative. He didn’t need to say it aloud; his answer had been more than obligation. It had been promise.

---

The next morning, Amy dressed slowly, choosing a loose dress that didn’t cling too tightly. Her hands trembled as she brushed her quills, nerves tugging at her chest. She wasn’t sure why the appointment filled her with such dread—maybe because it made everything real.

Shadow stood by the door, arms crossed, patient as ever. When she finally turned to him, clutching her purse, his gaze swept over her quickly—not judgmental, simply ensuring she was steady.

“Ready?” he asked.

She nodded, though her voice wavered. “As I’ll ever be.”

---

The clinic smelled faintly of antiseptic and lavender-scented air freshener. Amy sat in the waiting room, her hands folded tightly in her lap, her foot tapping nervously against the tile floor. Shadow sat beside her, arms crossed, gaze fixed ahead with his usual unreadable expression.

But she felt him there. She felt the solidity of his presence, the quiet assurance that he wasn’t going anywhere.

When her name was called, her stomach lurched. Shadow rose with her without hesitation, his steps matching hers as though it were the most natural thing in the world.

Inside the small exam room, Amy sat on the padded table, her hands twisting together. The doctor spoke kindly, explaining the procedure, but her words blurred around the edges. Amy’s pulse thundered in her ears.

Shadow stood near the corner, his eyes sharp, watching everything.

Then the lights dimmed slightly, and the ultrasound machine hummed to life. Cold gel was spread across Amy’s stomach, making her flinch, but she lay back, heart pounding.

The screen flickered.

And then—there it was. A tiny shape, faint but undeniable, pulsing with the rhythm of life.

Amy’s breath caught, tears springing instantly to her eyes. “That’s… that’s my baby…”

The doctor smiled, pointing gently. “Right there. Strong heartbeat. Everything looks good for this stage.”

Amy pressed her hand to her mouth, overwhelmed by the sight. Her heart ached and swelled all at once.

Shadow, however, stood frozen. His eyes locked on the screen, his usual composure faltering for the first time in years.

He had expected to feel nothing. Perhaps mild interest, curiosity at most. But as the faint thrum of the heartbeat filled the room, something inside him shifted violently, as though a dormant part of himself had been struck awake.

Life. Fragile, small, but fiercely present.

He remembered Maria again—not her death this time, but her laughter, her bright eyes, her endless hope for the future. He remembered the way she had always spoken of protecting others, of cherishing life no matter how small.

And now, before him, was a living testament to everything Maria had believed in.

His chest tightened, unfamiliar warmth threading through the armor he had worn for so long. He hadn’t expected this. He hadn’t expected to feel.

The doctor continued speaking, but Shadow barely heard her. His gaze remained fixed on the faint outline on the screen, his thoughts tumbling in directions he couldn’t control.

When the procedure ended, Amy sat up slowly, wiping at her tears, a soft, radiant smile lingering on her face despite the dampness of her fur. She glanced at Shadow, expecting his usual detached nod, perhaps a curt “it looks fine.”

Instead, she found him still staring at the screen, his expression unreadable but… softer. Almost reverent.

“Shadow?” she whispered.

He blinked, finally dragging his gaze to hers. For a long moment, he said nothing. Then, in a voice low but steady, he spoke.

“That’s real,” he said simply.

Amy’s eyes shimmered. She nodded. “Yes… it’s real.”

Something unspoken passed between them then, something heavier than words could hold. For Amy, it was the comfort of knowing she wasn’t alone in this moment. For Shadow, it was the startling realization that he wanted to see this through—not out of obligation, not because Sonic had failed, but because something inside him demanded it.

As they left the clinic, Amy clutched the small printout of the ultrasound to her chest, her heart lighter than it had been in weeks. Shadow walked beside her, his gaze forward, his expression unreadable once more.

But inside, his vow had changed.

This wasn’t just about staying. This was about protecting. About ensuring that fragile, pulsing life had every chance Maria had been denied.

And for the first time in years, Shadow felt the weight of his existence shift—not as a weapon, not as a survivor, but as a guardian.

Chapter Text

The world felt different after the ultrasound.

Amy couldn’t explain it, not fully, but it was as if something had changed in the air between her and Shadow. She had expected him to accompany her, to stand stoic and detached as always, offering her a silent kind of strength. But the look on his face when he had seen the faint shape of her baby—the softness in his eyes, the way his breath had caught—had etched itself into her heart.

Since that day, his presence had grown heavier. Not in a suffocating way, but in a way that wrapped around her, steady and constant. Like an invisible shield she hadn’t asked for but somehow needed.

Amy noticed it in small ways first.

When she leaned down too quickly to grab something from the floor, Shadow’s hand would steady her elbow before she even realized she might wobble. When she stood from the couch, his eyes flickered toward her, tracking her every movement as though she might fall apart at any second. Even in silence, she could feel him—watchful, anchored, unyielding.

It should have felt smothering. Instead, Amy found herself… comforted.

Still, part of her wondered if anyone else would notice.

---

Her answer came sooner than expected.

Rouge had called midmorning, her bright voice teasing through the phone. “Amy, darling, you’ve been cooped up too long. Lunch. My treat. Knuckles is tagging along—don’t worry, he’ll behave.”

Amy hesitated, her gaze drifting to Shadow, who sat by the window, arms crossed, staring out at the street below as though keeping watch. She chewed her lip. “I don’t know, Rouge. I’m not sure I—”

“You need air, sunshine, company,” Rouge interrupted firmly. “I’ll drag you out myself if I have to.”

Amy laughed softly, glancing back at Shadow. “Fine. Lunch sounds nice.”

When she hung up, she turned toward him. “Rouge invited me out. Knuckles too.”

Shadow’s eyes flicked toward her, unreadable. “Where?”

“The café near the square. Nothing fancy.”

He stood almost immediately, his decision sharp and unquestioning. “I’ll come.”

Amy blinked. “You don’t have to—”

“I’m coming,” he said again, final.

And that was that.

---

The café was bright and airy, the smell of roasted coffee beans mingling with the chatter of midday crowds. Rouge was already seated at an outdoor table, sunglasses perched elegantly on her nose, while Knuckles sat beside her with a menu he clearly hadn’t read, already grumbling about prices.

“Amy!” Rouge waved her over with a smile, then arched a brow when her eyes caught Shadow walking closely at her side. “And you brought backup. Interesting.”

Amy flushed lightly, offering a nervous laugh as Shadow pulled out the chair for her before taking the seat directly beside hers. He didn’t bother greeting Rouge or Knuckles—his eyes swept the surrounding tables, his posture alert, like a soldier on duty.

Knuckles noticed first, frowning slightly. “What’s with him? He looks like he’s about to fight the waiter.”

Rouge smirked, leaning her chin into her hand. “Oh, I think I get it.” Her gaze flicked between Shadow and Amy knowingly. “Someone’s playing guard dog.”

Amy shifted in her seat, embarrassed, but Shadow’s only response was a sharp glance that made Rouge chuckle.

“Relax, tall, dark, and broody,” she teased. “We’re here for lunch, not a heist.”

The meal passed with light conversation, though Amy couldn’t ignore the weight of Shadow’s presence. He barely touched his food, his focus always tethered to her—refilling her glass before she could reach for the pitcher, sliding the basket of bread closer when she lingered on it, steadying her chair when she leaned back too far.

Rouge noticed everything, of course. Her smirk only grew with each passing minute.

Knuckles, on the other hand, seemed unsettled. He leaned toward Amy halfway through the meal, lowering his voice. “Is he always like this now?”

Amy glanced at Shadow, who was watching her stir sugar into her tea as if it were the most important action in the world. Her chest tightened, both flustered and oddly touched. “Not always. Just… more lately.”

Knuckles gave a low whistle. “Huh. Didn’t think he had it in him.”

Rouge leaned in, her voice dripping with mischief. “It’s sweet, though, isn’t it? Our Shadow, turning into a doting protector.”

Amy’s cheeks warmed. “Rouge—”

“Don’t worry, honey,” Rouge said with a wink. “Your secret’s safe with me.”

---

After lunch, the group strolled through the square. The day was warm, sunlight spilling across cobblestones as people milled about. Amy walked between Rouge and Shadow, her laughter lighter than it had been in weeks.

She didn’t notice the uneven stone until her foot caught on it.

Her body pitched forward, her purse slipping from her arm.

But she never hit the ground.

Shadow was there in an instant, his arm catching her waist, pulling her flush against his chest before gravity could claim her. The movement was fluid, instinctive, protective in a way that stole her breath.

Amy gasped, her hands clutching at his chest as her heart raced.

“You need to be careful,” Shadow said firmly, his voice low but laced with something deeper—fear, perhaps? Or was it relief? His crimson eyes searched her face, lingering as though to assure himself she was truly unharmed.

“I—I’m fine,” Amy stammered, her cheeks burning.

Rouge’s smirk was practically audible. “Oh my, look at those reflexes. Faster than I’ve ever seen him move.”

Knuckles crossed his arms, whistling under his breath. “Guess that answers my question.”

Amy felt her face flush even hotter, torn between embarrassment and the strange fluttering warmth blooming in her chest. She eased back from Shadow slightly, though his hand lingered at her waist a heartbeat longer before releasing her.

“Thank you,” she whispered, her voice small but sincere.

Shadow gave a short nod, but his eyes remained sharp, scanning the ground as if every cobblestone had become a threat.

The others didn’t press the moment, though Rouge’s sly smile lingered all the way back to the café.

---

Later, as Amy sat at home with her shoes kicked off and her purse resting beside her, she found herself staring at the memory of Shadow’s arm around her, the steadiness of his chest against her hands, the look in his eyes when he had caught her.

She had always known Shadow was strong, but this… this was different. It wasn’t about strength. It was about devotion. About care.

And for the first time, Amy realized that Shadow wasn’t just staying by her side because he had promised.

He was staying because he wanted to.

And that realization settled into her heart like a fragile, glowing ember—one she wasn’t sure what to do with, but couldn’t bring herself to let go of.

Chapter Text

The morning after their outing dawned soft and still, sunlight spilling across Amy’s curtains in pale golden streaks. The apartment was quiet, the kind of quiet that carried a gentle weight—neither empty nor lonely, but filled with the steady hum of someone else’s presence.

Amy stirred awake slowly, her dreams dissolving into the memory of Shadow’s arm catching her, his voice firm but laced with something he rarely let slip: worry. Fear. She pressed her palms to her face, groaning softly as her heart replayed it again and again—the way he had looked at her as though the thought of her falling was unbearable.

'Why does that make me feel… this way?'

She shook the thought off and slipped from the bed, the floor cool beneath her bare feet. It didn't sound like Shadow was in the chair where he had sat the last few nights. Instead, the faint clink of a glass told her he was already in the kitchen. She hesitated before heading there, deciding instead to sit on the edge of the bed and grab her phone.

Rouge’s name flashed across her messages.

Amy smiled faintly and hit call.

It rang twice before Rouge answered, her voice smooth and warm as ever. “Well, good morning, sweetheart. How are you feeling today?”

Amy exhaled, her voice soft. “Better. Tired, but… better.”

Rouge hummed knowingly. “Mmh. And how’s your shadow doing?”

Amy’s cheeks warmed, her fingers fidgeting with the blanket. “Rouge…”

“What? You can’t pretend I didn’t see it yesterday. The way he practically lunged to catch you? The way he didn’t take his eyes off you for one second?”

Amy bit her lip, glancing toward the door as though Shadow might appear. “He’s… different lately.”

Rouge chuckled low. “Different how?”

Amy’s chest tightened. The words slipped out before she could stop them. “Protective. Gentle in ways I never expected from him. He doesn’t just watch out for me, Rouge. He cares. I can feel it. He makes sure I eat, makes sure I rest, makes sure I don’t feel alone.”

Her voice cracked slightly, and she pressed her hand over her stomach. “After everything Sonic did… after he left… I thought I’d never feel safe again. But with Shadow—” she swallowed hard, her throat thick with emotion, “—I do. And that means more than I know how to say.”

On the other end, Rouge was silent for a moment, her usual teasing replaced by a softer, more contemplative tone. “Honey… that’s not just him doing a favor for you. That’s him letting you in. You know how rare that is.”

Amy nodded, even though Rouge couldn’t see her. “I know. That’s what scares me. But it’s also what… what comforts me.”

What Amy didn’t realize was that she wasn’t as alone as she thought.

Shadow had paused just outside her door, a mug of tea in one hand. He hadn’t meant to eavesdrop—he had been on his way to check on her—but the moment her voice floated through the crack in the door, soft and trembling, he had frozen.

He stood there, silent, every word burrowing deep.

Protective. Gentle. Safe.

Amy’s voice carried no hint of pity, no forced gratitude. It was raw, unfiltered honesty. Words she thought were private.

And, as long as he could remember, Shadow never felt something close to how was feeling now. Something loosened in his chest. He never wanted to admit it, but Shadow was having a few doubts about staying. But Amy's words washed any doubts he had. Any questions whether his presence was wanted, began to ease. She trusted him. She valued him.

He turned his gaze to the floor, closing his eyes briefly as the weight of her confession sank in. It wasn’t Maria’s voice this time guiding him forward—it was Amy’s. And it was enough.

Inside the room, Amy laughed faintly through her tears. “I just… I don’t know what I’d do without him now. He’s the reason I can face each day without falling apart.”

Shadow’s hand tightened around the mug. For someone like him, who had lived years believing his existence was nothing but destruction and solitude, hearing those words was like sunlight breaking through endless cloud.

Rouge, ever perceptive, seemed to sense the depth of Amy’s confession. “Then don’t push him away, sweetheart. Let him stay. Trust him. He’s already made his choice—you just have to accept it.”

Amy exhaled shakily, her voice soft. “Yeah. You’re right.”

They said their goodbyes, and Amy ended the call, wiping her eyes before standing to face the day. She didn’t know Shadow had heard every word.

When she opened the door, she found him there, standing calmly with the mug of tea extended toward her as though he had only just arrived. His expression was unreadable, but his eyes—those crimson eyes—seemed a touch softer than usual.

“You should drink this,” he said simply.

Amy blinked, accepting the mug with a small smile. “Thank you, Shadow.”

He gave a short nod, watching her retreat toward the kitchen.

Inside, though, his resolve had deepened. It wasn’t duty that tethered him to her. It wasn’t guilt, or obligation, or even Maria’s memory.

It was choice.

His choice.

And he knew he wasn’t going anywhere no matter what.

Chapter Text

Amy had always known Shadow as distant, untouchable, a figure who moved through life with walls higher than anyone dared to climb. But now, in the quiet days that followed, she found herself confronted by a version of him she’d never truly seen before.

It was subtle at first.

The way he lingered near her more often, not hovering out of distrust but staying close enough that she never had to reach too far for support. The way he took the lighter grocery bags from her hands without a word, carrying them with ease as though he were made for that small, domestic task. The way he always seemed to notice the little things—her sighs, her silences, the moments when her shoulders slumped as though the weight of everything threatened to push her down again.

Amy had once begged for attention from Sonic, begged to be seen. But with Shadow, she didn’t have to ask. He noticed without her saying a word.

It scared her a little, how much that meant.

That morning, she sat on the couch, a blanket draped across her lap, while Shadow sat across the room repairing something small for her—a broken handle on her kettle she hadn’t even mentioned needing fixed. He worked silently, his gloved fingers precise and careful.

Amy watched him, her hand unconsciously resting against the small curve of her stomach.

The thought crept in slowly, unbidden. 'What if it had been Shadow?'

Her breath caught. The question startled her, but once it was there, it rooted itself.

What if Shadow had been the one she’d told about her pregnancy, instead of Sonic? Would he have turned distant? Would he have vanished? She doubted it. Shadow didn’t run. He confronted. He stayed.

She imagined, just for a fragile moment, Shadow standing beside her at that first doctor’s visit—not as a supporter filling in the absence Sonic had left, but as the father himself. She imagined his crimson eyes softening at the sound of the baby’s heartbeat, his strong hand steadying hers as she trembled with emotion.

Her heart fluttered, equal parts guilt and wonder.

Amy pulled her gaze away, ashamed of the thought. It wasn’t fair to Shadow—or to herself. But the ache inside her wouldn’t be silenced. She had wanted Sonic to be her forever, had built her future on him. And now, standing in the ruins of that dream, she couldn’t help but wonder if maybe, just maybe, there was another path—one where Shadow wasn’t just her protector, but something more.

Across the room, Shadow glanced up from his work, his eyes meeting hers with quiet intensity. Amy quickly looked down, fumbling with the blanket. “Thank you… for fixing that,” she murmured, her voice softer than she intended.

He nodded once, setting the kettle aside. “It’s nothing.”

But it wasn’t nothing. Not to her.

---

That afternoon, they went for a walk together through the park. The air was crisp, filled with the sound of leaves rustling overhead and children playing in the distance. Shadow kept pace beside her, his stride matching hers as though instinctively.

Amy’s mind wandered as they walked. Each step seemed to pull her deeper into her own questions, her own quiet comparisons. Sonic had always darted ahead, running circles around her until she was dizzy with trying to catch up. Shadow, though—he stayed by her side. Always.

She found herself smiling faintly.

“What is it?” Shadow asked, his voice breaking the quiet.

Amy startled, her hand tightening around the strap of her purse. “Oh—it’s nothing. Just… thinking.”

His eyes lingered on her, sharp but not unkind. “About?”

She hesitated, her heart hammering. She couldn’t tell him the truth—that she was imagining him in a role he never asked for, never agreed to. That she was wondering what it would feel like if this baby, her baby, was their baby.

So she shook her head, giving a small smile. “About how nice it is to have someone to walk with.”

Shadow didn’t press her. But the way his gaze softened for just a moment, the way his hand hovered subtly near her elbow as if ready to steady her if she tripped—it made her chest ache all over again.

---

That night, Amy lay awake long after Shadow had settled into the armchair. The living room was dim, moonlight spilling through the window in pale ribbons.

She stared at the ceiling, her thoughts relentless.

She wasn’t in love with Shadow. Not yet. She knew that. Her heart was still too tangled, too bruised from what Sonic had done. But she couldn’t deny the warmth blooming slowly inside her, the fragile hope that maybe—just maybe—love could grow in places she hadn’t expected.

Her hand slid to her stomach again, cradling the small swell that was still barely there. She closed her eyes, her voice a whisper in the dark, meant only for herself.

“What if…”

The words trailed off, unfinished, but the question hung heavy in her heart.

Across the room, Shadow sat with his eyes half-closed, appearing asleep. But he wasn’t. He had heard her whisper, the faint tremor in it.

And though he didn’t know the full weight of her question, he felt the warmth of it settle inside him all the same.

For both of them, the “what ifs” had only just begun.

Chapter Text

The days had begun to settle into a rhythm, one Amy hadn’t expected to find so soon after her world had collapsed. Mornings often started with Shadow insisting she eat something substantial, afternoons brought quiet errands or walks, and evenings ended with him posted near the window, silent but steady.

It wasn’t ordinary—not by any means—but it was safe. Comforting.

And maybe that was why the “what ifs” had only grown louder in her mind.

That morning, Amy sat curled on the couch with a cup of tea in her hands, her gaze lingering on the faint steam rising from the surface. She found herself thinking of the way Shadow had adjusted her blanket last night without saying a word, or how he always noticed when she grew tired before she admitted it. Little things. Small, ordinary kindnesses that carried weight because they came from him.

Her thoughts were interrupted by a knock on the door.

Amy blinked, then rose carefully, setting her tea aside. When she opened the door, Rouge leaned casually against the frame, sunglasses perched atop her head and a playful smile tugging at her lips.

“Well, don’t you look cozy,” Rouge said as she stepped inside without waiting for an invitation. “Tea, blanket, quiet morning—almost like you’ve got yourself a housemate to help around.”

Amy rolled her eyes but smiled faintly. “Good morning to you too, Rouge.”

Rouge’s gaze swept the apartment, noting the neatness, the faint smell of something savory lingering from breakfast. “Shadow here?”

Amy shook her head. “He went out to run a few errands.”

Rouge raised a brow, her grin widening. “Errands? Since when does he run errands for anyone?”

Amy flushed, shutting the door behind them. “It’s nothing. He just… offered to pick up some things for me.”

Rouge sank into the armchair Shadow usually occupied, crossing her legs. “Mmh. Things like groceries? Or are we talking prenatal vitamins, ginger tea, maybe a list of cravings?”

Amy groaned, covering her face with her hands. “Rouge!”

“What?” Rouge said innocently, though her smirk betrayed her. “It’s sweet. Honestly, I never thought I’d live to see the day. Shadow, the ultimate life form, making supply runs like a doting husband.”

Amy’s heart jumped at the word, and she quickly waved her hands. “It’s not like that. He’s just… helping me. Supporting me.”

Rouge tilted her head, her voice softening with curiosity. “And how do you feel about that, hm? About him?”

Amy hesitated. She wanted to brush it off, to laugh and dismiss it as nothing more than kindness. But the truth lodged in her throat, heavy and insistent.

Her gaze dropped to her hands in her lap. “I feel… safe with him. Like I can breathe again. He notices things, Rouge. He doesn’t let me carry this alone.”

Rouge watched her quietly, her smirk fading into something gentler.

Amy bit her lip, her voice lowering. “Sometimes I catch myself thinking… what if it had been him? What if Shadow had been the father of this baby, not Sonic?”

The room fell still. The words hung in the air like a confession Amy hadn’t realized she was ready to say aloud.

Rouge leaned forward, her tone teasing but threaded with sincerity. “Careful, honey. That sounds a lot like your heart’s already considering possibilities.”

Amy’s face flamed, her hands twisting in her lap. “I don’t know what my heart’s doing. I just know… it feels different with him. And that scares me, because I never thought I’d feel anything again after Sonic left.”

Rouge’s eyes softened, though her smile returned faintly. “Scared or not, it’s written all over your face. You’re not just grateful to him, sweetie. You’re drawn to him.”

Before Amy could respond, the front door opened with the quiet creak of a knob turning.

Both women turned their heads as Shadow stepped inside, a paper bag tucked under one arm. His eyes flicked first to Amy, then to Rouge, his brow arching slightly.

“I brought what you asked for,” he said simply, setting the bag on the counter. His gaze lingered on Amy, who was still flustered, her cheeks warm from the conversation.

Rouge, of course, wasted no time. She leaned back in the chair, smirking at Shadow with a glint in her eyes. “Perfect timing. We were just talking about you.”

Amy’s heart skipped, panic rushing up her throat. “Rouge!”

But Shadow only tilted his head, his expression unreadable. “Were you now?”

Rouge chuckled low, enjoying Amy’s embarrassment. “Don’t worry, handsome. All good things.”

Amy buried her face in her hands, wishing the ground would swallow her whole. But Shadow’s gaze lingered, and though his expression gave little away, something softened in his eyes—something Amy almost dared to believe was warmth.

As he moved to unpack the bag, Amy’s chest tightened. He didn’t know exactly what had been said, but he had heard enough. And maybe, just maybe, that was enough to let him know that her heart was starting to shift in ways she hadn’t expected.

And for Shadow, the knowledge that Amy’s words about him were good things was all it took to strengthen the silent vow he had already made: he wasn’t going anywhere.

Chapter Text

Amy could still feel the heat in her cheeks long after Rouge had left. The apartment had grown quiet again, but her heart refused to settle.

"We were just talking about you."

Rouge’s teasing voice replayed in her head on an endless loop, and Amy pressed her palms against her face, groaning softly. She had wanted to crawl under the couch when Shadow walked in at that exact moment, his presence filling the room in that steady, unshakable way of his.

He hadn’t pressed for details. He never did. But the look in his eyes—the faintest flicker of curiosity, maybe even something gentler—was enough to make her stomach flutter.

Amy paced the small living room now, her bare feet brushing against the carpet. She tried to tell herself it was nothing, that Rouge always teased and she always overreacted. But the truth was, something had shifted.

She thought back to the appointment, to the way Shadow’s hand had lingered against the arm of the chair, his jaw tightening as the grainy image of her baby flickered on the screen. She’d seen something cross his face then, something unguarded, as if the reality of it had reached deep into places he hadn’t meant to share.

And now… she couldn’t stop wondering.

'What if he really stayed? What if this closeness wasn’t temporary?'

Her heart squeezed painfully. It was terrifying to even let herself think it. After all, she had loved Sonic for so long, had imagined her life with him so vividly, only to have that dream shatter in her hands. But with Shadow—
She pressed a hand to her chest, feeling the thud of her pulse. With Shadow, it didn’t feel like a dream she was clinging to. It felt like something solid, present, here and now.

The sound of the refrigerator door closing made her freeze. She hadn’t realized Shadow was still in the kitchen, quietly unpacking the groceries he’d brought back. He hadn’t said much since returning, only moved with his usual efficiency, every action deliberate and wordless.

Amy swallowed, forcing herself to move back to the couch. She curled onto the cushions, pretending to scroll through her phone though her thoughts were nowhere near the screen.

Shadow eventually crossed into the room, a glass of water in hand. Without a word, he set it on the table beside her, his crimson eyes meeting hers for a fleeting second.

“Thank you,” she murmured, her voice softer than she intended.

He gave a short nod, then sat across from her in his usual chair. For a long moment, the silence stretched, heavy but not uncomfortable.

Amy’s embarrassment bubbled up again, and she found herself blurting, “Rouge exaggerates, you know. She likes to make things sound… bigger than they are.”

Shadow’s gaze flicked to her, steady and unreadable. “Does she?”

Amy nodded quickly, her hands twisting together. “Yes, she—she teases. That’s all it was. You don’t need to think anything of it.”

Shadow tilted his head slightly, studying her with unnerving calm. And then, after a pause, he said, “She said they were good things.”

Amy froze. Her heart thudded once, hard, as heat crawled back up her neck.

Shadow didn’t look away. His expression was almost impossibly steady, but his words carried weight, as if he’d been holding onto them since the moment they left Rouge’s lips. “If you’ve been speaking good things about me, then I’ll hear them in my own time.”

Amy blinked, caught between mortification and something far deeper. “I—It wasn’t—” She faltered, because denying it outright felt like a lie. She had spoken good things. More than that, she had confessed to feelings she didn’t fully understand herself.

Shadow leaned back in his chair, his eyes narrowing faintly in thought. He didn’t press further, but the air between them shifted, thicker now, heavier with what remained unsaid.

---

That night, long after Amy had gone to bed, Shadow remained awake. He stood near the window as he always did, arms folded, gaze fixed on the quiet street outside. But his mind wasn’t on the shadows or the silence. It was on her.

Rouge’s words replayed in his head—not just the teasing lilt, but the undercurrent of truth. "We were just talking about you. All good things."

He had dismissed many things in his life, brushed them off as unimportant distractions from his purpose. But those words had struck differently, not because of Rouge, but because of Amy’s reaction. The flush in her cheeks, the stammer in her voice, the way her hands twisted nervously. It hadn’t been annoyance. It had been something else.

He exhaled slowly, closing his eyes.

The image of the ultrasound surfaced unbidden, grainy and indistinct yet powerful. He hadn’t expected it to matter to him, not in any personal sense. But seeing that small flicker of life had unsettled something deep within him. It was as if, for the first time, he wasn’t just an observer standing at the edge of someone else’s world. He was a part of it.

And now, he realized with startling clarity, he didn’t want to step away.

The thought should have alarmed him. His life had never been about belonging. He had been built for destruction, forged with purpose, destined for solitude. Yet here he was, quietly unpacking groceries, running errands, watching over a woman who had been left behind and the child she carried.

And instead of feeling trapped, he felt anchored.

Shadow opened his eyes, his gaze drifting toward the closed bedroom door. He could sense her presence even through the walls—the steady rhythm of her breathing, the faint shift of blankets as she turned in her sleep.

He had made a decision without even realizing it.

'I’m not leaving.'

Not because he felt obligated. Not because she needed protection. But because—for reasons he still struggled to name—he wanted to stay.

Maybe it was her resilience, the way she faced each day despite her heartbreak. Maybe it was the way she had trusted him, allowed him into a space no one else had entered. Or maybe it was simpler than that. Maybe it was just her.

Whatever the reason, the conclusion was the same.

Shadow turned away from the window, settling into the chair once more. His arms folded across his chest, but his expression softened in the darkness.

He didn’t need to speak it aloud. Not yet. But the vow was there, etched into the core of him. He would stay by Amy’s side through every step, through every fear, through every what if.

And when the time came, he would prove to her—not with words, but with action—that he wasn’t going anywhere.

---

Amy stirred in her sleep, half-dreaming, half-aware of the silence in the apartment. For a moment, she thought she sensed something—like a promise hanging in the air, unspoken but steady. She curled deeper into her blankets, her heart easing against the ache that had been there for so long.

She dreamed not of absence, but of presence.

Chapter Text

Shadow rose before dawn, his movements as silent as the lingering night. The apartment was still, Amy fast asleep in her room, her breathing steady enough to reassure him before he stepped away. He paused briefly by her door, listening for the faintest stir, then turned and slipped out into the cool morning air.

His decision from the night before echoed clearly in his mind. He had chosen to stay—not out of obligation, but out of something he didn’t dare name yet. Now, with the day stretching before him, he found himself driven by an impulse unusual for him.

'If I’m going to stay, then I should give her more than words.'

The city streets were quiet as he moved through them, the world not yet fully awake. He didn’t rush, for once. Instead, he let himself think as he walked. He remembered the image on the ultrasound screen—the flicker of life he had not expected to stir anything within him. Yet it had. That small pulse had anchored him, reminding him of something he hadn’t thought possible for himself: a future intertwined with someone else’s.

Shadow stopped at a storefront window, his reflection blending with the soft display of baby items arranged behind the glass. Tiny clothes, soft blankets, a mobile with stars that twinkled when touched. He stood there longer than he intended, crimson eyes scanning objects that had never once belonged in his world.

'Maybe the child could use these.'

It wasn’t about material things. Amy had never asked for gifts, never once implied that he should do more than just be there. But he wanted to give her something anyway—something to show that his choice to stay wasn’t empty. Something for her child, the life she had chosen to keep despite the heartbreak.

His hand hovered over a small plush hedgehog, its fur a soft gray, its stitched smile gentle. Something about it drew him in—not flashy, not loud, but steadfast in its simplicity. Like him, in a way. Shadow picked it up without hesitation.

Hours slipped by as he wandered through the city, picking up not just the plush, but a small set of items: a soft blanket, neutral in color but warm to the touch, and a journal he thought Amy might want—to write her thoughts, her hopes, maybe even messages for the child. He wasn’t sure why he thought of it, but it felt right.

By the time he returned, the sun was high. Shadow pushed open the apartment door quietly, the bags tucked under one arm. He expected to step into silence again. Instead, he was met with the sound of hurried footsteps and a sharp, trembling voice.

“Shadow?”

Amy’s voice cracked as she appeared in the hallway, her hands clutching at her nightshirt, her eyes wide and red-rimmed from tears.

He froze, the air tightening in his chest.

She stared at him as if he had risen from thin air, her breath quick and uneven. “You—you weren’t here.”

Shadow set the bags down immediately, his eyes narrowing, not in anger but in confusion. “I stepped out.”

“You didn’t say anything,” she whispered, voice breaking. She took a step forward, her hands trembling. “I—I woke up and you were gone. And you didn’t come back, and I thought—” Her voice caught on itself, her eyes glossing over again.

Shadow’s breath stilled as realization struck. She hadn’t just been worried. She had been terrified.

Terrified he had left her too.

The weight of that truth pressed down on him, heavier than he expected. For all her strength, all her resilience, Amy was still wounded, still raw from the betrayal that had cut her life apart. He had been so focused on proving his own decision that he hadn’t considered what his absence—even temporary—might mean to her.

Shadow stepped forward, closing the space between them. “Amy.” His voice was low, steady, carrying a weight he rarely let others hear.

Her breath hitched as his presence loomed closer, but she didn’t move away. Instead, she lifted her gaze, trembling. “You weren’t here,” she repeated, softer this time, almost childlike.

Shadow reached out, hesitating only for a second before resting a gloved hand lightly on her shoulder. “I wasn’t leaving. Not then. Not now. Not ever.”

The words slipped out more easily than he thought they would, yet they carried the force of an oath.

Amy blinked rapidly, her tears spilling over as she let out a shaky breath. The tension in her frame slowly melted, her shoulders sagging under the weight of relief. She didn’t collapse into him, but the look in her eyes was enough—trust shining through the cracks of her fear.

“Where did you go?” she whispered, wiping at her cheeks though her hands still shook.

Shadow glanced at the bags by the door. “Out.” He hesitated, then added, “For you. For the child.”

Her brows knit, confusion flickering through the tears as she followed his gaze. Slowly, she stepped past him, hovering by the bags. When she pulled out the small plush hedgehog, her hands stilled, her eyes softening instantly.

“You… you bought this?”

Shadow inclined his head slightly, watching her reaction more closely than he cared to admit.

Amy cradled the plush in her hands, her thumb brushing over the soft stitched smile. Her lips trembled, but this time not from fear. Instead, a small, fragile smile began to form, curling despite the tears that still clung to her lashes.

“You thought of us,” she whispered, her voice full of something unsteady and tender.

Shadow didn’t answer immediately. He didn’t need to. His silence was its own answer, his steady presence its own promise.

Amy held the plush close to her chest, her heart beating hard against it. The fear of his absence lingered in her bones, but now it was tempered by something else. Something warmer.

Relief. Gratitude. And something she didn’t want to name yet, not when her heart was still mending.

Still, she looked up at him, her voice soft but clear. “Thank you, Shadow. For not leaving. For this. For… everything.”

Shadow’s expression didn’t change much, but his eyes softened, the crimson glow less harsh in the light of her gratitude. “You don’t need to thank me. I told you. I’ll stay.”

And for the first time, Amy believed those words in her bones. He hadn’t just said them. He had proved them.

---

That night, as Amy placed the plush hedgehog on her nightstand, she lingered a moment longer, her hand resting on its soft head. She glanced toward the door where Shadow stood silently in the hall, his form steady as a sentinel.

Her heart fluttered with something she hadn’t felt in weeks—not fear, not grief, but the faintest spark of hope.

For the first time since Sonic’s betrayal, she felt like she could keep going. Maybe she didn't need Sonic, after all.

Chapter Text

The morning sunlight slipped softly through the blinds, painting the apartment in a pale golden glow. For the first time in weeks, Amy woke without a heavy ache in her chest. Instead, there was a quiet warmth—subtle, fragile, but there all the same.

Her gaze drifted to the plush hedgehog on her nightstand, sitting upright as if it were keeping watch. She reached out, brushing its stitched smile with her fingertips. Shadow’s gift.

The memory of the night before stirred her heart again—the way she had panicked when she thought he was gone, the way relief had broken over her like a wave when he returned. He had promised he wouldn’t leave. And he hadn’t.

Amy sat up slowly, one hand resting on her stomach. She still had so much ahead of her—doctor visits, the constant swirl of emotions, the uncertainty of being a single mother. But now, there was Shadow. Not as a shadow passing through her life, but as a presence. Steady, grounding.

She bit her lip, her heart tugging. He had gone out of his way to do something for her and the baby. And she… hadn’t done anything for him.

The thought lingered as she padded quietly into the kitchen, her bare feet cool against the tile. Shadow’s boots weren’t by the door, which meant he was either out on the balcony or had slipped out for his usual early-morning walk. Either way, she had a little time.

Amy opened a cupboard, scanning what little she had stocked. Rouge had dropped off groceries a few times, and Shadow had picked up essentials. There was flour, sugar, eggs, and a small tin of cocoa powder. She smiled faintly.

“Baking it is,” she whispered to herself.

Shadow wasn’t the type to ask for anything, much less indulge in something sweet. But she had seen the way he lingered over the tea she made, quiet but appreciative. Maybe he’d accept a little treat. Something warm, something that could say thank you in a way her words couldn’t.

Rolling up her sleeves, Amy tied a dish towel around her waist like an apron and got to work. The familiar rhythm of baking soothed her nerves: measuring flour, cracking eggs, whisking sugar until it turned creamy with butter. She decided on simple chocolate muffins—sweet but not overwhelming, comforting without being extravagant.

As the oven warmed, she leaned against the counter, mixing carefully. For the first time in days, her mind wasn’t consumed by grief or what-ifs. Instead, she thought about Shadow’s face when he’d set the plush hedgehog down, about how his crimson eyes had softened when she smiled at him.

She wanted to see that look again.

By the time the muffins were in the oven, the apartment smelled rich and warm, chocolate and sugar filling the air like a quiet hug. Amy hummed under her breath, tapping her spoon against the mixing bowl as she cleaned up.

That’s when she heard the door open.

Shadow stepped inside, his presence as commanding as ever, though he moved with his usual quiet grace. His eyes flicked instantly toward the kitchen, narrowing faintly as he took in the sight of her—flour dusting her cheek, sleeves rolled up, and the oven humming behind her.

Amy froze for a second, her heart skipping. Then she forced a smile, brushing her flour-streaked hands against the towel. “Good morning.”

Shadow’s gaze lingered, sharp as always. “What are you doing?”

Amy laughed softly, a little nervous but genuine. “I wanted to make something. For you.”

He blinked once, his expression unreadable. “For me?”

“Yes.” She gestured toward the oven. “They’re chocolate muffins. Nothing fancy, but… I just wanted to say thank you.”

The words came out softer than she intended, but she meant them. Every bit of them.

Shadow stepped further into the kitchen, his boots quiet against the floor. He studied her, not the way others might—lighthearted or teasing—but deeply, as if he were weighing the truth of her words.

Amy bit her lip under his scrutiny, her pulse quickening. “You’ve been here for me more than anyone. You’ve stayed when I thought no one would. I—I just wanted to give something back, even if it’s small.”

Silence stretched between them, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. It was heavy, meaningful.

Finally, Shadow’s gaze flicked to the oven, then back to her. “You didn’t have to.”

“I know,” Amy whispered. She tucked a quill to the side, her heart fluttering nervously. “But I wanted to.”

The timer dinged, sharp in the quiet. Amy jumped slightly, then hurried to pull the muffins out, the warm scent intensifying as she set the tray down on the counter. She carefully placed one onto a small plate, its steam curling upward, and held it out toward him.

Shadow looked at the muffin, then at her. Slowly, almost cautiously, he reached out and took the plate from her hands.

Amy watched, holding her breath as he studied it for a moment before taking a careful bite.

His expression didn’t change much—Shadow rarely gave anything away—but the faintest softening in his eyes was enough to make her heart skip.

“It’s good,” he said simply.

Amy let out a laugh she hadn’t realized she’d been holding in, her shoulders relaxing. “Good. I was worried I’d mess it up.”

Shadow set the plate down gently on the counter, his gaze never leaving her. “You didn’t.”

The simplicity of the words, the weight in his voice, made Amy’s chest tighten in a different way. Not painful, not sad—but warm, hopeful.

She turned back to the tray, pulling another muffin free, her hands busy to hide the way her emotions swelled. “Well, there’s plenty more if you want them.”

Shadow gave a short nod, though he didn’t move to take another right away. Instead, he remained still, watching her as if the act of her baking carried more meaning than the muffins themselves.

And for Amy, it wasn’t just baking. It was trust. It was care. It was the start of giving him a place in her life not because she needed him, but because she wanted him there.

As the morning sunlight spilled brighter across the kitchen, Amy felt it more clearly than ever. Shadow wasn’t just staying out of obligation. And she wasn’t just accepting his presence out of desperation.

Something was growing between them—slow, tentative, but real.

And as Shadow finished the last bite of the muffin, his gaze steady and unreadable, Amy realized she wanted to see where it would lead.

Chapter Text

The afternoon sun spilled golden light across Station Square, warming the sidewalks and filling the streets with a hum of weekend life. Amy hadn’t been outside much in weeks, her world shrinking to the walls of her apartment and the steady rhythm of Shadow’s presence. But today felt different.

Maybe it was the muffins still cooling on the counter, the soft look in Shadow’s eyes when he ate one. Maybe it was the way her heart felt lighter this morning than it had in months. Whatever it was, she wanted to step out, to breathe air that wasn’t recycled through her kitchen window.

“There’s a fair nearby,” she said suddenly, glancing toward Shadow where he stood by the balcony doors. He turned at her words, one brow raised.

“A fair?”

“Mm-hm.” She clasped her hands in front of her, trying to hide the nervous flutter in her chest. “Just something small. Rides, food stalls, music… I thought it might be nice to get out. To… to feel normal again, even for a little while.”

Shadow studied her, his crimson gaze searching. For a moment she thought he would say no, remind her of rest, of the weight she carried, of how fragile things still were. Instead, he simply asked, “You’re sure you’re up for it?”

Amy smiled, small but determined. “Yes. With you there, I’ll be fine.”

Those words settled between them like a vow. Shadow didn’t argue further. He gave a small nod. “Then let’s go.”

---

The fairground was a burst of color and sound when they arrived. Strings of lights stretched between poles, even in daylight, and the smell of fried dough, candied apples, and buttered popcorn wafted thick in the air. Children laughed as they darted between stalls, parents calling after them, music drifting from a nearby stage.

Amy inhaled deeply, her eyes brightening despite herself. “It feels… alive here.”

Shadow walked beside her, his presence solid, grounding her even as the crowd pressed around them. He didn’t look particularly impressed by the festivities, but his gaze swept constantly across the fair, ever watchful.

Amy pointed toward a stall where small plush toys were displayed in neat rows, prizes for throwing darts at balloons. “I used to love these games as a kid,” she said, her voice tinged with nostalgia.

Shadow glanced at the stall, then back at her. “Do you want to try?”

She shook her head quickly, laughing. “No, no. I’d probably miss every shot. I just like the memories.”

He didn’t press her. Instead, they wandered slowly through the fair, Amy’s steps lighter than they had been in weeks. For the first time since everything fell apart, she felt something close to peace.

But peace was fragile.

And it shattered when her gaze drifted toward the far side of the fair.

Her breath caught.

Not twenty feet away, walking hand-in-hand with a woman Amy didn’t recognize, was Sonic.

The world seemed to narrow around her. The chatter of the crowd dulled, the laughter and music fading into a muted hum. All she saw was him—familiar blue quills, the easy grin she once loved, now directed at someone else. Someone who wasn’t her.

Her stomach twisted violently. Her hand moved instinctively toward her abdomen, as though shielding the life inside her from the sight.

Shadow noticed immediately. His gaze followed hers, sharp, and his body went rigid when it landed on Sonic.

In an instant, Shadow shifted. He stepped slightly in front of her, his form a barrier between her and the sight she couldn’t look away from. His voice was low, controlled, but unyielding.

“Don’t.”

Amy blinked up at him, her breath shaky. “But he’s—”

“I know he is—!" Shadow’s tone sharpened, protective. His crimson eyes softened only when they met hers. “But you don’t need to see this...”

Her chest ached. Her heart screamed at her to keep looking, to demand answers, to cry out that she was still here, still carrying what Sonic had left behind. But the rawness of it was too much. The pain of seeing him happy, free, unburdened—it was a blade twisting in her chest.

Tears threatened to spill, but Shadow’s hand was suddenly at her back, guiding her gently but firmly away from the sight. His touch wasn’t forceful, but steady, grounding.

“Come,” he said, his voice quieter now, almost gentle. “This way.”

Amy let him lead her, her feet moving even as her heart lagged behind. She fought to steady her breaths, each one trembling as she struggled against the tears burning at her eyes.

They stopped near a quieter corner of the fair, away from the main bustle. Shadow positioned himself between her and the direction Sonic had been, his presence a wall she hadn’t realized she needed so desperately.

Amy pressed her hands to her face, her shoulders shaking as the tears finally slipped free. “Why… why does it still hurt so much?” she whispered, her voice breaking. “After everything, after how he left… why does it still feel like this?”

Shadow stood silent for a long moment, his gaze fixed on her, his own chest tightening at the sight of her pain. He wanted to tell her not to waste her tears on someone who had abandoned her. He wanted to rage at Sonic’s cowardice, his selfishness. But more than that, he wanted to give her something no one else had.

A steady presence.

“You loved him,” Shadow said finally, his voice low, steady. “You don’t stop feeling that overnight. The wound is deep. But it doesn’t define you.”

Amy’s hands dropped slowly from her face, her tear-streaked eyes meeting his.

Shadow’s gaze was unflinching, fierce but not cruel. “He left. I didn’t. And I won’t.”

The words struck through her pain like a flare of light in the dark. She swallowed hard, her throat thick. “You mean that?”

“I don’t say what I don’t mean,” he replied simply.

Amy’s chest tightened, her tears flowing anew—but this time they weren’t just from grief. They were from relief. From the truth of his words. From the way his presence filled the void Sonic had left.

Shadow didn’t reach for her. But he stayed, unmovable, his eyes never leaving hers as if to remind her: 'I’m here. I’ll stay here. Even when it hurts.'

And, standing amidst the echoes of her heartbreak, Amy began to believe it.

Chapter Text

The streets were quieter now, the fair’s laughter and music fading behind them as Shadow walked Amy home. His stride was steady, purposeful, his crimson gaze fixed straight ahead. Amy walked close at his side, clutching the small bag of candied nuts she’d insisted on buying before they left, though she’d barely eaten any.

Her mind was still tangled in the sight she wished she could unsee—Sonic with someone else, his smile wide and easy, his hand warm in another’s. The memory pricked sharp as glass. Each time it surfaced, Amy pressed her hand against her abdomen, grounding herself in the tiny heartbeat that had nothing to do with him anymore.

She stole a glance at Shadow as they walked. His posture was rigid, his jaw tight, but his silence wrapped around her like a shield. He hadn’t said much since guiding her away from Sonic, but he hadn’t needed to. His presence had done more than words ever could.

The apartment building loomed ahead, its familiar brick walls a quiet promise of safety. They reached the door, and Shadow held it open for her without a word. She stepped inside, took off her shoes, and let her feet sink into the familiar softness of the rug in the entryway, the scent of home curling around her like a blanket.

For a moment, silence hung thick between them. Amy let out a shaky breath and turned to face him, her green eyes softened by exhaustion but warmed by something else too—gratitude.

“Thank you,” she said quietly, her voice gentle, almost fragile.

Shadow’s head turned slightly, his eyes narrowing—not at her, but at some unspoken thought. He gave no reply.

Confusion flickered across Amy’s face. She tilted her head, her brow furrowing. “Shadow?”

It was then she saw it—the raw, unfiltered anger simmering in his expression. His crimson eyes burned, his fists clenched at his sides, his chest rising and falling in sharp, controlled breaths.

Amy’s heart skipped. For a moment, fear whispered through her—not fear of him, but of the intensity of the storm in his face. She realized quickly it wasn’t directed at her. It was something else... someone else.

Sonic.

Amy’s lips parted. “You’re angry…”

Shadow’s voice came low, dark, vibrating with barely restrained fury. “He doesn’t deserve to smile like that. Not after what he’s done.”

The words hit Amy like a stone dropped in still water, ripples spreading through her chest. She looked down, her fingers tightening around the bag she still held.

“He left you,” Shadow continued, his tone sharper now. “He left you—pregnant, hurting, alone—and today he walked around as though nothing in this world weighed on him. As though you never mattered.” His fists trembled at his sides. “That makes my blood boil.”

Amy swallowed hard, her throat thick. She’d thought the sight of Sonic would only hurt her, but now, seeing Shadow’s anger, she realized it hurt him too. Not for himself—but for her.

Slowly, carefully, Amy stepped closer. “Shadow…”

His gaze finally shifted back to her, his fury still simmering, though his eyes softened as they met hers.

“You’re right,” she whispered, her voice breaking slightly. “He left me. He left us. And it hurts. It hurts so much. But… if I let that anger consume me, if I let it dictate everything I feel, then he still wins.”

Shadow’s jaw clenched, but he listened.

“I don’t want to live my life defined by the pain he gave me,” Amy said softly, tears welling but not falling. “And I don’t want you to carry that anger for me. You’ve already carried so much.”

For a long moment, Shadow stood silent, his chest heaving with quiet rage, his fists still tight. But Amy’s words—her quiet strength despite everything—worked their way through the storm.

His fists slowly unclenched. His shoulders eased, though tension still lingered in his frame. He exhaled, long and heavy, as though releasing a fraction of the fury threatening to consume him.

“I can’t forgive him,” Shadow said at last, his voice low, raw. “Not for this. Not for abandoning you. Not for smiling like none of it matters.” His gaze hardened. “But I’ll make sure his choices never define you. Or your child.”

Amy’s breath hitched, her hand instinctively brushing against her stomach. His words weren’t just protective. They were a vow.

She stepped even closer now, close enough that she could feel the heat radiating off him. Her green eyes glistened with tears, but her lips curved into a small, trembling smile. “That means more to me than you know.”

For a moment, silence lingered, but it wasn’t heavy anymore. It was steady, grounding.

Amy turned and set the untouched bag of candied nuts on the counter. Her hands lingered on the surface, steadying herself as she exhaled deeply. Then, with a voice soft but firm, she said, “Stay tonight?”

Shadow’s eyes softened, the anger giving way to something steadier, deeper. He gave a small nod. “I’ll stay, just like I have been.”

Amy smiled faintly, the storm inside her settling just a little. And as the night crept in through the window, the two of them sat together in the quiet, carrying a weight that was no longer hers alone.

Chapter Text

The apartment was quiet, save for the hum of the refrigerator and the occasional sound of a car passing on the street below. Amy sat curled on the couch, her knees drawn close as she leaned into the cushions. She looked calmer than she had at the fair, though her eyes still held the faintest trace of exhaustion.

Shadow stood at the edge of the living room, his crimson gaze flickering to her before drifting away. He usually took the armchair—his silent post of watchfulness—but tonight, something tugged at him. The image of Sonic laughing with someone else still burned hot in his mind, but alongside it now was Amy’s trembling smile when she’d whispered thank you.

He crossed the room and lowered himself onto the couch beside her. The cushion dipped slightly under his weight, and Amy blinked up at him, surprised.

“You’re not sitting in your usual chair?” she asked softly, a small smile tugging at her lips.

“Not tonight,” Shadow said simply, his tone firm yet low.

Amy nodded, her gaze softening. She shifted just slightly, enough that her shoulder brushed his arm. It wasn’t much, but it was enough for Shadow to feel the warmth of her presence seep into him, grounding him.

They sat like that in silence. The kind of silence that wasn’t heavy or strained, but full—comforting in its own way. Amy’s breathing began to slow, her eyelids drooping as she fought the pull of sleep.

Shadow remained still, his crimson eyes fixed on the dim glow of the lamp across the room. His thoughts stirred, restless.

'He left her.'

The words repeated like a hammer striking steel. Sonic’s absence wasn’t just cowardice—it was betrayal. To abandon her in the moment she needed him most, to discard the future he himself had spoken of, and then to flaunt a new life as though Amy had never mattered. It was unforgivable.

Shadow looked down at her—her head tilting, her breaths growing shallow with sleep. She had trusted him enough to let her guard down tonight. To lean on him, literally, when once they had been little more than civil acquaintances.

Her trust was fragile, but real.

He thought of Maria again, of promises whispered on the ARK so long ago. Protect those who need it. Don’t let them suffer alone.

Shadow clenched his jaw, his gaze softening despite the heat in his chest. He couldn’t erase Sonic’s betrayal. He couldn’t wipe away the pain Amy had carried for weeks. But he could make sure it didn’t define her. He could stand in the space Sonic had left behind—not as a replacement, not out of pity, but because Amy deserved someone who would never run.

Her head slowly drifted against his shoulder, the crown of her pink fur brushing lightly against his quills. Shadow stiffened at the contact at first, his muscles locked in instinctive tension. But then… something inside him loosened.

Her weight was light, almost delicate, yet the gesture carried something heavier—trust. A wordless statement: I feel safe here.

Shadow stared at her, at the peaceful curve of her lips, at the faint glisten of dried tears along her cheek. Something stirred deep within him. Something he couldn’t explain.

It wasn’t just protectiveness anymore. It wasn’t just a vow to keep her safe.

It was heavier. Deeper. A feeling that twisted his chest and quieted his restless mind all at once. He didn’t understand it fully, but he didn’t fight it either.

His arm moved almost of its own accord, resting carefully along the back of the couch—close enough to shield, but not enough to wake her. His gaze lingered on her sleeping face, and for the first time in a long while, Shadow felt the faintest ache of something he had buried long ago.

Not anger. Not vengeance. Something far gentler.

He turned his eyes forward again, exhaling through his nose. His mind was a storm of conflicting thoughts, but one truth cut through them all with clarity: Sonic’s betrayal would not leave Amy broken. Not if Shadow had anything to say about it.

The minutes stretched into hours. Amy shifted slightly, murmuring softly in her sleep, her head pressing more firmly against his shoulder. Shadow didn’t move. He didn’t dare. His stillness was not from rigidity this time, but from an unspoken decision.

He would stay.

Not out of obligation. Not out of revenge. But because something inside him had shifted tonight, something he couldn’t name but could no longer ignore.

When the clock ticked past midnight, Shadow glanced down again. Amy slept soundly, her small hand resting near her stomach, unconsciously protective of the life growing there.

Shadow’s crimson eyes softened. His vow to protect her had taken on a new edge, sharper, clearer. It wasn’t just about shielding her from Sonic’s shadow. It was about standing in the light with her, through every moment of this journey.

And though Shadow had no words for the feeling yet, he knew one thing with absolute certainty:

He didn’t want to leave.

Chapter Text

The faintest glow of dawn spilled through the curtains, painting the living room in shades of gold and gray. The air was still, heavy with the hush of early morning.

Amy stirred first. Her lashes fluttered as the weight of sleep began to lift. She shifted against something warm, something solid, and slowly blinked her eyes open.

At first, she didn’t register it. Her cheek rested against dark fur, her body curled comfortably along the couch. But as awareness settled, her heart skipped a beat.

Her head was on Shadow’s shoulder.

Her breath caught, and her eyes widened as the realization hit her. She had fallen asleep—right there, pressed against him—and Shadow… Shadow hadn’t moved an inch.

Heat rose in her cheeks, spreading fast, her fingers twitching against the fabric of the couch cushion. She sat very still, half-tempted to spring away before he noticed, but something made her pause.

He was still.

His crimson eyes were closed, his posture upright and unyielding even in rest. Shadow didn’t sleep often, at least not like others, but now he seemed caught in that rare state—quiet, composed, yet somehow deeply present.

Amy’s heart softened as she studied him. He could have shifted. He could have pulled away. But instead, he’d stayed perfectly still all night so she could rest. The realization curled in her chest, warm and almost overwhelming.

Her blush lingered, but so did a small, shy smile.

Carefully, she lifted her head, freeing his shoulder. The sudden absence of warmth left her feeling strangely bare. She tucked a quill back slightly and straightened her posture, trying to compose herself.

Shadow’s eyes opened the moment she moved. Crimson and sharp, yet softened by the quiet morning. He looked at her without surprise, as though he’d known she’d stir at that very moment.

“You slept well?” His voice was low, steady, carrying none of the stiffness she feared.

Amy’s hands tightened slightly in her lap. “Y-Yeah… better than I have in a while.”

Her cheeks betrayed her, warming again under his gaze. She turned her head slightly, pretending to fuss with the blanket draped across her legs.

“You didn’t move,” she murmured, her voice softer than she intended.

Shadow’s expression didn’t change much, but something flickered in his eyes—something she couldn’t quite place. “You needed the rest.”

Amy’s lips parted, a response caught on the edge of her tongue, but no words came. What could she even say? Thank you for letting me use your shoulder as a pillow? It sounded ridiculous in her head.

And yet, gratitude swelled in her chest. Gratitude… and something else. Something... she felt with Sonic before.

The silence that followed wasn’t awkward. It was steady, filled with the quiet hum of the morning and the faint sound of city life waking outside. Amy stole another glance at him, noticing the faint shadows beneath his eyes, the way he seemed both untouchable and yet impossibly close.

Her thoughts drifted before she could stop them.

What if this had been Sonic?

She swallowed hard, the old ache creeping back. Sonic had been the one she imagined all these little moments with—the late nights, the laughter, the closeness. But Sonic hadn’t been here. He had walked away.

Shadow hadn’t.

Last night, he’d sat beside her. Last night, he’d let her fall asleep against him without a single complaint. And this morning, he was still here, unshaken, as though guarding her even in his rest.

Amy’s chest tightened with something she didn’t want to name yet.

“I must have been a bother,” she said finally, forcing a small laugh, though her voice carried a nervous edge.

Shadow turned his head slightly, crimson eyes meeting hers again. “You weren’t.”

Two words. Simple, direct. But they landed with unexpected weight, unraveling the knot of worry in her chest.

Amy’s lips curved into a faint smile despite herself. She tucked the blanket aside and rose carefully from the couch. Her body was stiff from the awkward sleeping position, but her heart was lighter than it had been in days.

“I’ll make us some tea,” she said quickly, needing something to do with her hands, with the nervous energy humming in her chest.

Shadow watched her move toward the kitchen, his gaze steady. He said nothing, but inside, his thoughts stirred like the morning wind.

He hadn’t expected her to lean on him. He hadn’t expected her to fall asleep on his shoulder. And he hadn’t expected the feeling that came with it—the warmth, the quiet ache in his chest that made him unwilling to move a muscle for fear of disturbing her peace.

It wasn’t just protectiveness anymore. It wasn’t just a vow to shield her from Sonic’s absence.

It was something else.

Something he didn’t yet have words for.

As Amy busied herself in the kitchen, Shadow leaned back against the couch, his gaze following her softly. Whatever this was—whatever it was becoming—he knew one thing for certain.

He didn’t want it to end.

Chapter Text

The kettle whistled softly, filling the kitchen with steam. Amy hummed under her breath as she poured hot water into two mugs, watching the tea leaves swirl and bloom. The fragrance of chamomile drifted into the air, carrying with it a calm that matched the slow, golden light spilling through the curtains.

When she turned back, Shadow was still on the couch, his posture steady, crimson eyes following her with quiet attentiveness. There was something almost surreal about it—the image of him there, in her home, not as a visitor passing through, but as someone who belonged.

She carried the mugs over carefully, setting one down in front of him before settling on the opposite cushion. Steam curled between them, catching in the light. Amy wrapped her hands around her mug, letting the warmth seep into her fingers.

“Here,” she said softly. “It should help. After… well, after last night.”

Shadow inclined his head slightly, lifting the mug with precise, deliberate motions. He didn’t sip right away. Instead, his gaze lingered on the surface of the tea, as though studying its reflection.

Amy smiled faintly, though her cheeks were still warm from earlier. “You know,” she began, stirring her tea with her spoon, “you really didn’t move at all last night.”

Shadow’s gaze flicked to her, sharp and unreadable, but she caught the faintest flicker of tension in his shoulders.

She tilted her head, letting her smile turn playful. “Did you really sit there perfectly still the whole night just so I could sleep on your shoulder?”

His jaw tightened, and for a moment he didn’t answer. He took a slow sip of tea instead, letting the silence hang between them. Amy raised a brow, amused.

Finally, Shadow spoke, his tone low and clipped. “You needed the rest. That was more important than my comfort.”

Amy bit back a laugh, her eyes glimmering. “That’s not an answer.”

Shadow’s gaze narrowed, but he didn’t deny it. His silence alone was enough of an admission, and Amy leaned back, a soft laugh escaping her.

“Well,” she said, her voice warming, “thank you. Really. I can’t remember the last time I slept so soundly.”

Her words weren’t teasing now. They carried a sincerity that reached across the space between them, and Shadow felt it settle into his chest like an anchor.

He hadn’t minded. Not at all. In fact, the thought of her leaning on him—trusting him enough to surrender to sleep—had brought a strange calm he hadn’t felt in years. For once, his presence had brought comfort instead of fear, safety instead of destruction.

And though Shadow said nothing, the truth pulsed in him with clarity: he didn’t regret a single moment of staying still for her.

Amy took another sip of tea, letting out a quiet sigh. The warmth of the drink mingled with the warmth in her chest, leaving her lighter than she’d felt in weeks. She glanced toward the window, where sunlight stretched across the table in golden patches, and for the first time in what felt like forever, she thought: 'This morning feels good. Really good.'

No heaviness. No loneliness clawing at her when she woke. Just quiet companionship.

She looked back at Shadow, who sat with his mug balanced carefully in his gloved hands, his gaze distant but steady. There was something grounding about him—about the way he carried himself, unshaken, always present.

Amy’s heart tightened. She hadn’t realized how badly she needed a morning like this until now.

“Shadow?” she asked softly, breaking the silence.

His gaze shifted to her. “What is it?”

She hesitated, her fingers tracing the rim of her mug. “I just… I wanted to say that I’m glad you stayed. This morning... it’s been… one of the best mornings I’ve had in a long time.”

Shadow’s crimson eyes lingered on her, searching her face as though weighing her words. Slowly, he gave a small nod.

“I told you,” he said quietly, “I’m not going anywhere.”

Amy’s lips curved into a small smile. She believed him. More than that—she felt it.

They sat together in the warmth of the morning light, sipping their tea in companionable silence. The weight of the world, the pain of the past, all seemed to recede for just a little while. And in its place was something simple, something fragile but real—peace.

Amy closed her eyes for a moment, letting it sink in. She knew the road ahead wouldn’t be easy. There would be more tears, more fears, more moments where the ache of Sonic’s absence threatened to undo her. But right now, with Shadow at her side, she felt like she could face it.

When she opened her eyes again, she caught him watching her—not with judgment, not with pity, but with a quiet intensity she couldn’t quite name. Her chest fluttered, her cheeks warming all over again. She turned her gaze back to her tea, her heart beating faster than it should.

Since Sonic left, Amy Rose felt hope—delicate, unsteady, but blossoming all the same.

And for the first time in years, Shadow the Hedgehog realized he didn’t mind the closeness. Not one bit.

Chapter Text

The afternoon sunlight had mellowed by the time Amy found herself pacing the kitchen, staring at the half-empty shelves of her pantry. She hummed under her breath, one hand resting on her stomach as she debated out loud.

“Strawberries… or maybe blueberries. No, strawberries. Definitely strawberries.” She sighed, realizing she had none left. “Figures.”

From the living room, Shadow’s voice cut through her musing, deep and even. “You’re out?”

Amy turned to find him leaning against the doorway, arms crossed, crimson eyes steady on her. There was something in his expression—half curious, half… watchful.

“Yeah,” Amy admitted with a small laugh. “I’ve been craving strawberries all day. Maybe I could stop by the store..."

Shadow tilted his head slightly, as though considering something. Then, to her surprise, he straightened and said simply:

“I’ll come with you.”

Amy blinked. “What? To the store?”

He nodded, as though it were the most natural decision in the world.

Her lips parted, caught between surprise and warmth. “Oh. I mean… sure. If you want to.”

“I said I’d stay close,” Shadow replied, his tone even but not unkind.

Amy felt her chest tighten just a little at those words. She smiled, softer now. “Alright then. Let’s go.”

---

The grocery store wasn’t far—a short walk down the block—but the cool air felt refreshing after being indoors most of the day. Amy carried a small basket, while Shadow walked at her side, his presence a steady anchor against the noise and bustle of the store.

At first, she thought she might feel awkward. But as the minutes passed, she realized how strangely natural it felt. His quiet strength made her feel… safer, somehow.

They paused by the produce section, where Amy made a beeline for the strawberries. She leaned over the display, picking through the cartons until she found one that looked perfect.

“These will do,” she said cheerfully, holding them up.

Shadow only gave a small nod, though his gaze lingered on her as though committing the sight to memory.

Amy tucked the carton into the basket and continued through the aisles, humming quietly. Every now and then, she caught Shadow’s reflection in the polished floor or mirrored signs above the shelves—his tall, composed figure walking right beside hers, carrying none of the distance she was used to from him.

It felt… nice. Too nice.

By the time they reached the register, Amy’s basket held a few more items: milk, bread, tea, and of course, the strawberries. She set them on the conveyor belt while Shadow stood just behind her, his gaze sharp but not intrusive.

The cashier, a middle-aged fox with kind eyes, gave them a friendly smile as she scanned the items. “Afternoon, folks. Stocking up for the week?”

Amy smiled back. “Something like that.”

The fox chuckled as she rang up the strawberries. “Ah, cravings. I remember when I was pregnant with my first. My husband must’ve run to the store three times a week.” She glanced at Shadow then, her grin widening. “Good of you to come along. Husbands don’t always volunteer for errands like these.”

Amy froze. Her cheeks went hot in an instant, and she stammered, “Oh, he’s not— I mean, we’re not—”

Shadow’s expression didn’t so much as flicker. He remained silent, his crimson eyes fixed on the cashier with that same calm intensity. If the comment unsettled him, he didn’t show it.

The cashier only laughed softly, waving a hand. “Ah, my mistake. Still, it’s nice to see someone sticking close. You don’t see that often.”

Amy fumbled to pay, her pulse still fluttering wildly in her chest. The moment they stepped outside, she finally let out the breath she’d been holding, pressing a hand to her flushed face.

“I can’t believe she thought we were married,” Amy muttered, half-embarrassed, half… something else she didn’t dare name.

Shadow walked beside her in silence, the grocery bag slung easily in one hand.

Amy glanced at him, her heart still racing. “You didn’t correct her,” she said softly.

His eyes shifted to hers, unreadable but steady. “It didn’t matter,” he said simply.

Amy’s breath caught. For a long moment, neither of them spoke, the quiet between them stretching, heavy with unspoken meaning.

Then Shadow shifted his gaze forward again, his tone steady. “Let’s get you home.”

Amy nodded quickly, though her thoughts were anything but calm. She hugged the carton of strawberries close to her chest, trying to steady her heartbeat.

Because for one fleeting moment in that store, the image of Shadow as her husband hadn’t felt strange at all. In fact, Amy, deep down, almost hoped it could come true...

Chapter Text

The apartment was peaceful that evening, softened by the warm glow of the lamp in the kitchen. The world outside had dimmed into a muted hush, the streets below alive with only the distant hum of passing cars. Inside, Amy stood at the counter, rinsing the carton of strawberries she had been craving all day.

The berries shone red beneath the water, their sweetness filling the air. Amy carefully sliced them, arranging the halves neatly into two small bowls. She hummed quietly to herself, the motions soothing after the long day. But her thoughts weren’t calm.

That moment at the store kept replaying in her mind—the cashier’s easy laugh, her offhand assumption, the word husband lingering like a ghost. Amy’s cheeks warmed just thinking about it. Shadow hadn’t flinched, hadn’t denied it. That unsettled her more than anything. Or did it?

Would it have been so strange if he had?

Amy shook her head, trying to chase away the thought, but it clung stubbornly. She picked up the bowls and padded into the living room.

Shadow was there, of course, seated on the couch in his usual composed posture. He’d removed his gloves and set them on the coffee table, his hands loosely resting on his knees. His gaze flicked toward her as she approached, steady and unreadable.

“I cut the strawberries,” Amy said softly, holding out one of the bowls.

Shadow accepted it with a small nod, his claws barely grazing her fingers as he took it. The touch sent an unexpected shiver down her spine, and she quickly turned to sit beside him, close enough that their shoulders nearly brushed.

They ate in silence at first, the strawberries sweet and cool against the quiet hum of the evening. Amy stole a glance at Shadow out of the corner of her eye. He didn’t eat quickly, nor with disinterest—he savored each bite, as though even something so simple deserved his full attention.

Amy smiled faintly. “Do you like them?”

“They’re good,” Shadow replied, his voice low and even.

Amy let out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding, her smile growing. “I’m glad.”

For a moment, the silence felt comfortable. Safe. Amy leaned back slightly against the couch, her hand resting absently on her stomach. The sweetness of the strawberries lingered on her tongue, but her mind wouldn’t stop wandering.

That word again. Husband.

Amy’s chest tightened. She thought of how Shadow had carried the groceries, how naturally he had walked beside her, how steadfastly he had stayed through everything Sonic had abandoned. He hadn’t wavered once.

And before she could stop herself, the words slipped out.

“You’d… make the perfect husband.”

The sentence hung in the air like a fragile thread, trembling between them. Amy’s eyes widened the moment she realized what she’d said, heat flooding her cheeks.

“I—I didn’t mean—” she stammered, her hands tightening around her bowl.

Shadow froze, strawberry halfway to his mouth. His crimson gaze shifted to her, sharp but unreadable, like he was trying to process the weight of her words.

Amy swallowed hard, looking down at her strawberries as though they could swallow her whole. “I just meant… you’re so dependable. You’ve been here through everything. You didn’t have to, but you did. That’s all I meant.”

Her voice wavered, soft but earnest.

Shadow lowered the strawberry slowly, setting it into the bowl with deliberate care. He didn’t speak right away, but the silence between them felt heavier now, charged with something Amy couldn’t quite name.

Finally, he said, his tone low, almost guarded: “You think too highly of me.”

Amy looked up, startled. “No, I don’t.”

Her voice was firmer this time, carrying a conviction she hadn’t planned. “If anything, I don’t think highly enough. You’ve been more of a partner to me in the past weeks than Sonic ever was.”

Her words struck deeper than she intended, and she flinched, realizing she had spoken them aloud. But it was the truth. The truth she had been avoiding.

Shadow’s gaze lingered on her, something flickering in the depths of his crimson eyes—something she couldn’t decipher. He looked away after a moment, his voice barely above a whisper.

“…You deserve better than what he gave you.”

Amy’s heart thudded painfully in her chest. She wanted to say more, wanted to reach out, but the words stuck in her throat. The moment hung there, fragile and uncertain, until Shadow finally leaned back, his composure returning.

“Finish your strawberries,” he said quietly. “You need the energy.”

Amy nodded, though her appetite had nearly vanished. She ate in silence, her thoughts a storm of confusion and warmth and longing she wasn’t ready to admit.

But one thing was certain: she hadn’t been wrong. Shadow would make the perfect husband. And that truth terrified her more than anything.

Chapter Text

The evening stretched long after the strawberries had been eaten and the quiet had settled. Amy had grown drowsy on the couch, her head tilted slightly toward Shadow as she struggled to keep her eyes open.

“Maybe I should…” she mumbled, trying to stand. But the warmth of her exhaustion won out, and before she could move, her eyelids fluttered shut again.

Shadow glanced at her, the soft rise and fall of her breathing the only sound in the room. He stayed still, unmoving, as though any shift might disturb her peace. She had fallen asleep so easily beside him, trusting him enough to let her guard down completely. The thought stirred something inside of him, something deep and unfamiliar.

Carefully, he rose, adjusting the blanket draped across the back of the couch and pulling it gently over her. Amy shifted in her sleep, murmuring faintly, but didn’t wake.

Shadow lingered for a moment, watching the faint smile that tugged at the corners of her lips, the way her hand still rested protectively over her stomach even in sleep. A quiet resolve hardened inside of him.

He needed air.

Shadow slipped his gloves back on and stepped out into the night, the cool breeze brushing against his fur as the door closed softly behind him. The city streets were calmer now, lit by the occasional street lamp and the glow of storefront signs. His footsteps echoed against the pavement as he walked, thoughts swirling like the restless wind.

That was when he heard it.

“Shadow?”

The voice cut through the stillness, too familiar, too unwelcome.

Shadow turned sharply, his crimson gaze narrowing.

Sonic stood a few feet away, hands shoved casually in his jacket pockets, his usual carefree grin plastered on his face as though the world hadn’t been split in two by his choices.

“Well, if it isn’t my old buddy,” Sonic said, tone light, almost teasing. “Didn’t expect to run into you out here.”

Shadow’s jaw tightened. “Don’t call me that.”

Sonic tilted his head, feigning confusion. “What? Buddy? C’mon, don’t be like that. We’ve been through a lot together.”

“Not enough to erase what you’ve done.” Shadow’s voice was low, sharp, every syllable laced with disdain.

Sonic’s grin faltered slightly, though he tried to mask it with a shrug. “Look, I know things got… complicated. I just wasn’t ready, alright? Settling down, being a dad—it’s not me.”

Shadow stepped closer, his crimson eyes glinting under the lamplight. “So you ran. Left her alone. Left your child alone.”

For the first time, Sonic’s expression wavered. He rubbed the back of his neck, his usual confidence slipping. “Amy’s strong. She doesn’t need me like she thinks she does.”

“She wanted you,” Shadow snapped, the force in his tone startling even him. “She believed in you. And you threw her away like she meant nothing.”

The words hung heavy in the night air. Sonic’s grin was gone now, replaced by something uncertain—defensive.

“I didn’t mean to hurt her,” he muttered. “I just… didn’t know what else to do.”

Shadow stepped closer, his glare narrowing. “You abandoned her. You abandoned your child.”

Sonic bristled. “I didn’t abandon anyone. I just—” He faltered, then forced the words out, sharper now. “I wasn’t ready, Shadow. You don’t understand. A family? Being tied down? That’s not me. Amy should’ve known that.”

The heat in Shadow’s chest surged. His voice came out like a growl. “You should've thought about that before talking to her about wanting a family. She gave you everything. And you ran the moment responsibility fell into your hands.”

Sonic’s expression hardened, his grin finally dropping. “What did you expect me to do? Stay and be miserable? Pretend I wanted a life I didn’t?”

“You could’ve stayed because she needed you,” Shadow snapped, his voice rising, cutting through the still air like a blade. “Because that child is yours. Because walking away was the act of a coward.”

Sonic flinched, then set his jaw, defiance flashing in his eyes. “Easy for you to say. You’re not the one being asked to give up freedom for crying babies and responsibility. You don’t get it, Shadow. You’ve never been me.”

“No,” Shadow spat, stepping closer, his crimson eyes burning with fury. “And I thank any sort of god for that. Because I would never choose selfishness over the ones who depended on me.”

The streetlight flickered overhead, casting their faces into sharp contrast — Sonic’s strained, defensive; Shadow’s carved with raw, unyielding anger.

For a long moment, the silence between them felt suffocating. Sonic’s bravado cracked just slightly, but he lifted his chin, as if daring Shadow to strike.

Instead, Shadow’s voice dropped low, controlled, but dripping with venom.

“You may have left her. But I won’t. Not now. Not ever.”

The words landed heavy, a vow as sharp as steel.

Sonic’s grin twitched back, brittle and forced. “Fine then. Be her savior if that’s what you want. But don’t pretend you’re better than me, Shadow. You don’t know what it’s like to be chained.”

Shadow’s fists clenched, his fury so taut it threatened to snap. His voice came out like a blade drawn in the dark.

“I know what it’s like to lose everything. And I’ll be damned before I let you take anything more from her.”

Sonic stared at him for a bit longer, his grin failing completely. Then, with a shrug that was more hollow than casual, he turned on his heel. “Have it your way.”

Shadow didn’t move until Sonic’s figure disappeared into the night. His chest still burned, fury still seething through every vein. He turned back toward the apartment, his steps heavy, his vow echoing with every beat of his heart.

Amy had been left behind once.

And he would never let it happen again.

Chapter Text

The door clicked softly behind him as Shadow stepped back into the apartment. The night clung to him like smoke, the echoes of his confrontation with Sonic burning through his chest. His fists were still tight, claws biting into his palms through the gloves.

Anger blazed in his crimson eyes, but he forced his steps to be measured, deliberate. He couldn’t wake her. He wouldn’t let his rage spill into her peace.

The living room greeted him with its muted glow, the lamplight casting a soft golden halo over the couch. Amy was still there, curled beneath the blanket he’d draped over her, her quills spilling across the cushion like a tangle of rose-colored silk.

For a moment, Shadow just stood there, staring. The fury in his chest collided with something else entirely — something tender, protective. Shadow knew that he should tell her what happened tonight...

Amy shifted slightly, a soft murmur escaping her lips as though sensing his return. Her eyes fluttered open for the briefest of moments, heavy with sleep, just enough to catch the sight of him.

“Shadow…?” she whispered groggily, her voice barely audible.

“I’m here,” he said quietly, almost a growl, but low and steady.

Her lips curved faintly, a sleepy smile ghosting across her face. Then her eyes drifted closed again, her breathing evening out as sleep reclaimed her.

'Damn it...'

Shadow exhaled slowly, the storm still raging behind his gaze. He couldn't tell her. It could ruin all the progress Amy made. He then moved toward her, crouching slightly beside the couch. His gloved hand hovered above her shoulder, almost touching, but he hesitated. He could still feel the burn of Sonic’s words in his mind, the raw cowardice of a hedgehog who had walked away from this — from her. From their child.

No, he needed to not think about that bastard of a hedgehog right now. Shadow wouldn’t let her stay here, folded awkwardly on the couch. She deserved more than that.

In one fluid motion, Shadow slipped an arm beneath her knees, the other carefully supporting her back. He lifted her effortlessly, her body instinctively curling against him. Amy murmured softly in her sleep, her head nestling against his chest, but she didn’t wake.

Shadow stood there for a moment, just holding her, the weight of her small frame stirring something deep and unexplainable within him. He could feel the warmth of her breath against his fur, the faintest trust in the way she relaxed into him even without consciousness.

Slowly, he carried her down the short hallway, each step careful and deliberate. He nudged her bedroom door open with his shoulder and crossed to the bed. The sheets were still slightly rumpled from the morning, the air faintly scented with roses and chamomile.

He lowered her gently onto the mattress, pulling the blanket over her with painstaking care. Amy shifted once, her hand brushing unconsciously across her stomach, as though even in sleep she remembered the life growing inside her.

Shadow’s gaze softened. His rage was still there, simmering beneath the surface, but in this moment, it bent toward something else.

He stood over her for a long moment, watching the steady rise and fall of her chest, listening to the quiet rhythm of her breathing.

Finally, he whispered into the stillness, his voice low but fierce with conviction:

“He’ll never hurt you again. No one will ever hurt you again. Not while I’m here.”

The words vanished into the dark, swallowed by the hum of the night.

Shadow turned, retreating silently toward the doorway. But before leaving, he cast one last look back at her, the peaceful curve of her sleeping form.

Shadow felt that his path was no longer uncertain.

He knew exactly where he belonged.

Chapter Text

The first thing Amy became aware of was warmth. A soft cocoon of blankets wrapped her in a way she didn’t remember arranging herself. She blinked against the faint sunlight filtering through the curtains, her eyes adjusting to the golden haze. The hum of early morning traffic outside her window was distant, muffled by the glass, leaving the apartment in a hush so fragile she hesitated to break it by moving.

Her hand slid against the smooth sheet, and her brow furrowed. The last thing she remembered was resting on the couch. She had been tired—too tired to think properly—and her head had slumped against the cushion while Shadow sat nearby. But now…

She pushed herself upright, her pink quills messy from sleep, and realized she was in her bed. The blanket was drawn snugly around her shoulders, tucked with the kind of care one wouldn’t give themselves in half-sleep.

Her lips parted slightly, the realization dawning with a quiet flutter in her chest.

'Shadow moved me...'

The thought made her cheeks warm. He wasn’t exactly the type to hover—or at least, not in ways she noticed. He was quiet, reserved, sometimes frustratingly so. And yet here she was, carried to bed in the dead of night, her comfort seen to without a word.

Amy lingered in the silence, brushing her hands over her stomach as if to ground herself. It wasn’t just her anymore. Every action, every decision, came with the weight of someone else growing inside of her. The fact that Shadow recognized that—enough to move her gently so she wouldn’t wake with a sore neck or stiff back—wasn’t lost on her.

She swung her legs over the side of the bed and stood carefully, stretching. Her body still ached from the subtle strains of early pregnancy, but she was learning to move with them, to acknowledge rather than fight them.

The apartment was still, save for the faintest murmur of a voice. Amy froze, ears twitching toward the sound. It was low, steady, coming from the kitchen.

Shadow.

She padded down the hallway slowly, her footsteps instinctively soft against the floorboards. Something in his tone, the way it rose and dipped with a rhythm not meant for her ears, kept her from announcing herself.

“…Yes. I understand.” His words were clear now, clipped and even. The kind of voice he used when he was keeping control.

Amy hesitated near the corner of the hallway, leaning ever so slightly against the wall. A guilty part of her whispered that she shouldn’t listen—but another part urged her to. She had been left in the dark too many times before. With Sonic, silence had been a weapon. With Shadow, silence was something else, but she still needed to know what it carried.

“A few days won’t matter,” he said after a pause. His voice was low, firm, but laced with something heavier beneath the calm.

Amy’s fingers brushed against the wall for balance. A few days?

He was leaving...

Her heart skipped uncomfortably. The thought of him being gone—even temporarily—pressed against the part of her that had grown used to his steady presence. He had become her constant, the one she didn’t need to ask for help but who helped anyway. The thought of waking up tomorrow without him in the other room made her chest tighten.

“Rouge,” Shadow’s voice shifted, softer, but with a weight that made Amy’s breath catch. “I’ll take the mission. But…”

He trailed off. Silence followed, long enough that Amy pressed closer, straining to hear.

When he spoke again, the words were quieter, edged with something unguarded.

“I don’t want her left alone. Not like this. Stay with her while I’m gone.”

Amy’s hand flew to her mouth, stifling the gasp that threatened to escape.

Shadow’s voice dropped again, low enough that she barely caught it. “She won’t ask for it. She never asks. But she needs it. She’s been through enough. And, in case of that bastard of a hedgehog pulls something, I... Won't be here to help. I need you to be my temporary replacement."

Amy’s throat tightened, and tears pricked the corners of her eyes. Not the same tears she had shed all those weeks ago, when her heart broke under the weight of Sonic’s abandonment, but something warmer. Different. These tears came from the simple, raw truth of being thought of. Protected. Valued.

Her heart thudded painfully against her ribs. She had known Shadow was protective, but hearing it like this—unguarded, when he thought she was asleep—was something else entirely.

On the other end of the line, Amy imagined Rouge’s smooth, knowing voice. She couldn’t hear the words, but she could imagine the teasing edge, the way Rouge had always seen more than she let on.

Shadow’s reply was curt, but the undertone of relief threaded through it. “Good. I’ll be ready to move out by tomorrow. Contact me with details when you can.”

A click. The call ended.

For a moment, Shadow stayed silent in the kitchen. Amy could picture him standing there with the phone still in his hand, his crimson eyes narrowed, his thoughts heavy.

She retreated quickly, padding back a step down the hall, her heart racing. She didn’t want him to catch her eavesdropping, though part of her longed to tell him what his words had done for her.

She slipped quietly toward the bedroom again, pausing just inside the doorway as if she had only just risen. Her hand brushed her stomach, cradling it absentmindedly.

'He thought of us. Not just me, but us.'

When Shadow’s footsteps finally moved from the kitchen, Amy cracked the door, letting him pass without seeing her. He carried himself with the same rigid control as always, but Amy noticed the tension around his shoulders, the faint storm in his eyes that lingered even in silence.

She exhaled softly once he was gone, her chest still tight. Shadow wasn’t a man of declarations. He didn’t confess things openly, didn’t spell out his thoughts. But in those few overheard words, Amy had been given more than she ever thought she would again. A quiet promise. A reassurance that she wasn’t alone.

And as she slipped back into her room, sitting on the edge of her bed with her hands folded gently over her belly, Amy let herself smile. Just a little.

Because Shadow had made sure she was carried to bed last night. Because he had spoken to Rouge about her with concern she hadn’t even realized he felt. Because even if he left for a few days, he was already planning for her safety.

Amy felt like she wasn’t holding the world up by herself. And that realization meant everything. Though, there was one thing that began to flood Amy's thoughts. Can she really handle it if Shadow were to leave?