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Stone doesn't consider the alternative, not for another month at least. He has bigger things to be worrying about, namely the doctors recovery.
And while he had hoped the bout of sickness was a one-off, it proves to not be the case. Almost anything can set him off, but he's learned the worst triggers.
Sits with his head between his knees and mouth open to breathe when the CRAB hits a particularly rough patch of water. Knows the worst comes in the early mornings and late evenings where he'll sit on cool tile and count backwards in whatever language he decides upon in the moment.
He doesn't steam milk for his own coffee, makes sure to breathe through his mouth when making one for the doctor. Chooses the food he makes carefully based on trial and error and what he is willing to tolerate at that moment. A multitude of little adjustments he is only half-aware of and is quite sure the doctor has not picked up on yet.
Robotnik is more preoccupied with his own recovery and the melancholy of losing to the little blue rat and co. Spends much of his time sulking, watching TV and rebuffing Stone's attempts to coerce the man into physical therapy or mild exercise. Most days its as if Stone isn't in the CRAB at all. Equal parts relief and pain when Stone realized.
He's been coming to a couple considerations and realizations recently. Needs to get off his ass and make a decision. Denial can only take him so far.
There is of course, the obvious choice of simply ridding himself of the problem. But that consideration has his chest tightening and the feeling of a lead weight in his stomach that he can't really put a finger on. He's not sure why he's so attached already. Its impractical, not-logical and will make this much much worse for him.
For fucks sake, Stone had already run away from a life that had opened up that possibility to him. Shut it down to follow the doctor to the ends of the earth for god knows what reason. But still, somehow, he cannot bring himself to consider that option more than in passing thought.
Early on into the third month, with the doctor passed out on his chair, he has one of the badniks do a blood test and a scan. A confirmation of something he is utterly sure of at this point. Still he sits there in disbelief, stares at the little projection, the little thing currently growing inside him. Tiny, dependent and his.
That's the crux of it he feels. Its his, above everything else. He's nurturing it, caring for it. Has the choice to continue barrelling ahead or pull himself back, it doesn't feel like much of a choice at all. Not really. No one else knows about this, no external pressure, no big eyes and fumbling hands and soft voice. No toothbrushes on the sink. No one with harsh words and a glare and electricity on the fingertips.
It's just him.
His hand has settled over his shirt, on the span of his abdomen, where maybe, imperceptibly to anyone else he can feel the beginning of a curve. He can pick this. He's allowed to be selfish like this.
Briefly he glances up to Robotnik in the chair, head tilted back and snoring loudly. Resolutely does not think about what the doctor might say, might insist. The option Stone would have no resistance against, not when it came to him. He wants to keep this for himself, whatever that means.
The doctor has no time for feelings or illogical dreams of a family or settling down. It was part of why Stone had followed him, that unflinching ruthless drive. And then it had shifted, changed, a one-sided dependency, a need clawing in his throat. Like the foundation of his self had become inextricably tied to one Ivo Robotnik.
Stone, more of a concept than anything. A solider, an agent, an assistant, a barista, a bed-mate. Different masks for every occasion. Steady and adaptable, its just what he was.
He thinks about what he's growing inside him now. What will that make him? If he pulls away, lets himself run yet again. There's a certain kind of irony to this. He ran away from one home, one curated domestic space only to fall straight into another. And now here he is, thinking about running yet again for the exact same fucking reason.
It pulls a delirious laugh from him, high and breaking.
But he gets to make it for himself this time. He gets to be someone. Its resolute in his mind now. He's come to his conclusion, no matter what else.
Stone coaxes the badnik back toward him. Shuts her down and carefully goes through the programming and the memory to delete anything about the scan and the blood-test. Then reboots her systems and sends her on the way. Its his secret, just his.
Now he needs to consider his leaving. He'll want to do it sooner rather than later, before the doctor figures out anything is amiss (if he will ever notice). Stone's not worried about his health or recovery, the surgeries did their job and every badnik scan and battery of tests shows an upward healing trend at a far accelerated timeline.
Personally he attributes it to the lingering chaos energy and elevated levels still found running through the doctor. Thinks ruefully of the scars running over his left side and down his arm, pale lichtenberg figures marring the skin. Lingering spasms and numbness in the nerves, things he's aware of, but not affecting his day to day so much. Especially not when he has far far bigger considerations now. They are not the first scars he's received under the doctors employ, but they very well may be the last.
Eventually he picks himself up from where he is cross-legged on the floor of the CRAB, he should probably sleep but more important than that is getting things ready. He's leaving, its a sure thing now. The same kind of feeling he had when he left Green Hills, when he picked the doctor from the rubble and brought him to the CRAB.
The end point, no matter the cost of the journey. Looking forward is the only way to survive, he knows that.
His bike is stored in the underbelly of the CRAB, it is the only piece of equipment Stone designed and built himself. Perfectly suited to his needs, and the doctor won't be able to track it like he would his own technology. Stone's no Robotnik but he's spent time making himself scarce, he knows how to hide and not be found.
Alongside the bike is the project he's been dedicating himself to when not preoccupied with the doctor and when the nausea isn't laying him low.
His very own drone. Minimal in design, rounded corners and a boxier shape than the doctor prefers. Limbs with claws that can extend for locomotion on the ground or grabbing things. Additional flight and sensors that fold out from the central body and a screen on one of the panels. If he manages to finish her in time, she'll be his sole companion. Another thing that is just his. No hand from the doctor, no one forcing him to make something or commenting on the design. No one looming over his shoulder or corrections or observations. Fully and totally his.
Stone runs his hands over her shell, brings up the programming and the soldering tools and sets himself to work.
He gets her done within two weeks, names her S.A.R.A.(self-adaptive robotic assistant) and keeps her secured with his bike. She'll need some updates still, but as in the name, she's built to be malleable, adaptive, entirely separate from the doctors own network. Another thing of his that can't be traced.
He sacrificed sleep to get it done, spending hours down in the underbelly of the CRAB, choking down the nausea prompted by the smell of solder and electronics. But its completed now, in a state where she will work and he needs less specialized equipment to do any further upgrades.
Not a moment to soon either. Maybe its the fact that he's finally accepted it, but he's started to show. Its not much, just a slight curve of his abdomen. His suit and belt still fit neatly but he doesn't know for how much longer. Coming up sooner than he would like on four months. The doctor hasn't said anything yet.
He pushes down the pang of guilt that tries to surface at the thought of leaving. He's made up his mind. There is no way for him to do this and stay in the CRAB with the doctor. Robotnik barely acknowledges him as is, Stone won't become a burden. He'll extract himself from the equation first. Besides, the man had always threatened to replace him with badniks anyway. He doesn't think he'll be missed all too much.
There's a moment of weakness, curled up on the cold floor in the bathroom late one night. Where he thinks about going back to Green Hills. He knows for a fact the deputy would welcome him back with open arms and a wide smile and the thought is both comforting and terrifying at the same time. But he can't do that. Stone can't be what he wants, anymore than he can be what the doctor wants either.
Stone's not sure he knows how to be anymore. Years of shaping himself to be the right man for the task, to fit into any space required has left him hollow and limp. He doesn't know what it means, to do this, to run away, to be a person instead of a job. It scares him in a way he cannot fathom, doesn't want to deal with right now. The existential issues can come after he's out of the CRAB.
Which means getting himself a place to stay in.
God bless the advanced digital age they are living in. He's always been paranoid, keeps fake ID's and documents just in case. Years of his line of work will do that to a man. And it is surprisingly easy to facilitate getting a house through another party, carefully vetting as much as he can. Money is not a concern for him, he was ludicrously over-compensated for working with the volatile Robotnik and his previous hazardous positions, and he's always been careful. Keeping things tucked away in various locations and ease of access the organization could never dream of.
He settles on Canada. Spent some time there as a child, remembers enjoying it. Picks a home in a smaller town, with yard space and neighbours that aren't too close. Maybe he'll get chickens or goats. He stayed in a foster home that had them, he had liked that.
It feels real now, doing it like that. Having a place to call his own. Packing a few items very carefully into a side-bag for the bike. He doesn't need much, just essentials (and a couple weapons for his own piece of mind). The badniks come around curiously, but he always redirects them, back to their father so they can't snitch.
Four months rolls around and he needs to leave. He can only hide so much from the doctor, even in the mans unaware and apathetic state. Needs to get out before he loses his nerves, resigns himself to a choice that has him feeling more sick than he is most days. He cannot, he will not.
This is his for better or worse. He's made his choice, he just needs to follow through.
Canada is large, but not so densely populated as the U.S. If he pushes himself, he can make it from the west coast to the east coast where he plans to live for the time being in a little over a week. It's not ideal, but the roads are still in good condition for his bike and he's not about to park the CRAB nearby to his hideout.
The doctor is passed out in his chair once again when the CRAB surfaces. There's re-runs of a show playing through the screens and all the badniks are tucked away in their ports. He spends precious time running his hand over each one of their shells before he heads to where his bike is stored.
Double-checks the contents of his side-bags for what must be the hundredth time. Everything is there. Putting on his leathers is slightly trickier, they only just fit now but it will do. He'll need a proper winter vehicle at his house anyway. This is just temporary.
The CRAB will automatically close up and go back underwater once he's safely off-board, he programmed that in explicitly this time around. Makes sure the doctor can't track him and he can't be a coward and back out.
He gets the bike off the CRAB, onto a main road in the dead of night. He'll ride for the rest of the day, find somewhere to stop in the evening. He resolutely does not think about the tears forming at his lash-line, nor the ache in his heart as he steps away.
He needs to do this. Stone can see no other end goal. Its just him now, and maybe that's how it was always going to go. The doctor had a penchant for leaving him behind. Better to bite the bullet now, get it over with before it happens again.
It takes Stone nine days to get to his new home on the east coast. Arriving as the sun sets, thoroughly run out. It took him longer than he would have liked but he'll blame that on his condition.
The contents of his new life can be brought in on one trip and he's dimly aware of the living room light of his closest neighbours being on, curtains partway ajar. He can't bring himself to care about that right now.
The house is quaint, simple. Two bedroom, one bathroom, open living and kitchen and dining. He drops everything in the entry-hall, including himself. Drops his helmet and sits, leaning back against the wall.
Honestly, he'd like to smoke. A habit he had tried to rid himself of ages ago. Not something he can do in his circumstances either. A wry kind of smile pulls on his face.
Stone reaches over to one of the side-bags, slips it open and pulls out its sole occupant. S.A.R.A. He powers her on after carefully checking her over. Watches the flat interface of her screen blink to life as the whole robot comes online.
"Mind a quick scan?" He asks quietly, already starting to pull off his leathers. There's a moment of silence, as the robot settles itself on the floor in front of him, one claw extended with a scanner.
What appears on the screen looks like an actual baby at this point, tiny and curled up within him. He feels his own heart-rate pick up a little bit looking at them. And then, through the speakers he can hear another sound beyond the blood rushing through his ears and the whirring of S.A.R.A.'s internals. Its fast, far faster than his own.
His dedicated little robot assistant runs through a myriad of tests while he sits there on the floor and listens. Stone sits there for a while after, trying to regulate his breathing, rubbing at his eyes harshly.
He's not alone, he's got S.A.R.A. and the little bean incubating within him. That's good, its enough. He can make a life for himself like this.
Stone just hopes he's made the right choice, not just for his sake now.