sdjglkdfj here's part 2! thank u all for ur support and patience so far :) i hope the wait was worth it haha. anywho enjoy!

"We—We have to remove the rest of the armor."

Nobody really has the strength to respond to Tails for a good few seconds. It's been hours since this… discovery, and yet they're all still reeling. It's Sonic. They thought he was dead. Taken by the Black Arms or Eggman or the like. But he's here. And alive.

Shadow lingers in the back corner of the small room, where they've all been doing nothing but staring at Sonic through the one-way mirror. The hedgehog looks miserable; so tired and distraught and broken. Shadow wants nothing more than to hold him in his arms again and tell him everything will be okay, that he's safe, that he missed him so much.

But he can't. He can't do anything right now because everyone's still arguing over how to handle this and they're treating Sonic like he's some science experiment that they have to keep stable and isolated or else he'll explode. And Shadow frankly doesn't know how to confront him, even if he were allowed.

Sonic doesn't remember anything. On top of being—being brainwashed, by Eggman, his walls seem to be crumbling and he's going through some sort of identity crisis. Shadow doesn't know if they should pile more confusion on top of whatever turmoil he's already going through.

So instead he's been sitting here, for hours, propped motionless against the wall with hardened eyes and crossed arms, watching. Listening deftly to the bickering and dismay of his friends and the rest of the rebels. Staring into the discordant, beautiful emerald eyes that can't see him through the glass. Sonic is shaking uncontrollably, still shackled to the ground because he's still Eggman's little soldier (the thought makes Shadow cringe), but he looks so… still. His gaze is blank, like he's—like he's trapped in his own mind.

Shadow figures he probably is, even if he doesn't know it.

He licks his lips and looks to Tails, who's wringing his fingers with red-rimmed eyes and casting a desperate look across the small congregation of people allowed in here.

Amy looks uneasy. "He's very… unstable right now. I don't wanna upset him."

"But Tails has a point," Knuckles says. "He could still be armed or—or there could be a tracking device on it."

"I know, Knuckles, I just—this is a lot to process. I'm scared and, and he's our friend. We haven't seen him in so long."

Another silence, this one longer and more tense. Shadow feels like he's going to choke to death on how thick the oxygen between them feels.

Rouge steps up. "Maybe Shadow could try to talk to him."

He blanches and something cold crawls down his spine. "I don't know if that's the best idea."

"No," the bat shakes her head. "He seemed to recognize you, back there. If there's anyone we can send in to at least talk to him, it's you."

Shadow looks to the others for a consensus, suddenly finding it very hard to swallow the gross knot stuck in his throat. Tails nods hesitantly to him.

"What do I even-? Do I tell him? Am I supposed to interrogate him?"

The fox frowns minutely and turns back to look at Sonic. The hedgehog's breathing still seems rapid and anxiety racks his body. "Just start with calming him down, maybe. We'll have to take this slow, I think."

Shadow takes a deep breath, and plunges.

He thinks maybe he's getting closer. It's not as dark anymore and the sunlight reaches down far enough that it isn't as cold anymore.

The current still pulls roughly at him, so malicious he can't do anything but drift along and wait for it to bring him to his destination.

His lungs still burn.

Shadow approaches him like he's made of glass. Sonic hardly seems to notice.

Green eyes drift lazily to him when he gets close enough and kneels beside him. Sonic looks defeated, completely limp on the ground and panting, on the verge of hyperventilating. He searches Shadow's face wildly, like he's trying to decide if he's a friend or foe.

He smiles tentatively, small and plastic. "Do you… Do you know who I am?"

Sonic stares for a long, long time. Every second that passes makes Shadow's heart thud harder in his chest, so hard his ribs ache.

"Sh.. Shadow."

It's posed like a question, almost.

When Shadow finds his words again, they're heavy on his tongue. "Do you know who you are?"

Another long, dead stare. Impassivity quickly morphs into hysterics, as Sonic's face twists up like he's sucking on a lemon and tears well in his eyes. His tremors crescendo into something that makes Shadow's breath catch in his throat, and he swiftly raises his hands to try and calm Sonic down.

He never speaks, just vigorously shakes his head and locks his jaw to trap the sobs. Shadow wants so badly to just hug him and tell him it's okay to cry, it's okay to be upset. But he—he can't get ahead of himself, this isn't exactly his Sonic, this one is different and unstable and fragile.

"Hey, don't—I'm sorry, forget I asked, alright? Take deep breaths. In and out." Shadow demonstrates with his own deep breaths, that admittedly help placate himself. Sonic watches him in a panic for a few moments, before he sighs heavily and seems to relax a bit. Emerald eyes bore into him intently.

"… Look, I understand that things are confusing right now. But I promise, you're safe now. We're here to help you. I'm going to help you."

Shadow wavers, then holds out a hand. Sonic stares at it bizarrely.

"Do you want me to stay? Or do you want to be alone?"

Something wild flashes across Sonic's face and he grabs weakly for his hand. Shadow simply lets him, and smiles when he feels him squeeze it.

"Don't—" Sonic rasps, and he looks so desperate and scared. "Don't go. I-I don't… Don't understand—"

"Calm down," Shadow says, and Sonic obliges, swallowing the torrent of words that are spilling out of his mouth. "Just try to rest, alright? I'm not going anywhere."

Sonic nods slowly and relaxes against the wall behind him, never once letting go of Shadow's hand. After a while, Shadow settles down to sit beside him. For the first time in over a year, there is a spark of something that flares to life in his chest—hope, joy, he doesn't really know—but it's warm and familiar and it leaves a lingering smile on his face as he doses off.

His vision is clouded by a blob of faces and his hearing swarmed with discordant voices. They're all bickering in hushed shouts and staring at him with big, wide eyes like he might crumble if they look away. Maybe he will. He already feels like he's crumbling anyways.

Shadow is here to hold his hand, the only constant that he can appreciate. Shadow calms him down. Shadow keeps him safe.

He feels so hopelessly alone. And he's so sick of it.

They ask him lots of questions that he doesn't know the answers to. What is your name, do you know where you are, how do you feel. They all filter into the growing whirlpool of confusion and panic, spinning steadily and quickly gaining momentum in his head. He doesn't know anything and he doesn't understand why they can't understand that. He just wants to sleep.

All the while, Shadow rubs soothing circles into his palm. They have long since pried away his thick black armor and given him a gray sweater that's much too large for him, but it's soft and comfortable and they insisted that he looked cold. It's strange because he feels anything but. He's drenched in sweat and he feels like he's coming down with a fever, but he supposes that he has been shaking for a long time, now.

He's also begun to notice how they all tiptoe around addressing him with a name, which is frustrating in itself. They keep asking him if he knows his own name when they clearly already do, but then they refuse to say it.

Eventually he grows weary of sitting in this dark, humid interrogation room. It's been hours and he just wants to rest and be alone.

His ears fold back against his head and he tries to work his tongue, but it feels thick and numb in his mouth. "… Who am I?"

The only other two that have had the will to remain in here, an orange fox and a pink hedgehog, blink owlishly at him. They exchange a fleeting, anxious glance with Shadow.

The fox rakes his hand through his bangs. They hang low now, as opposed to a few hours ago when they seemed perky and just a little messy. "What do you mean?"

"My name," he says, and those words alone feel forbidden as he utters them. "Why won't you tell me what it is?"

It's the pink hedgehog that speaks this time, albeit hesitantly. "We just—you're very… uh, stressed right now. We don't wanna overwhelm you more that we already have."

This makes him angry. They don't want to overwhelm him? Why can't they just leave him the fuck alone? Why can't they give him some real fucking answers?

He nearly voices this but Shadow squeezes his hand. When he turns to look at him, Shadow looks tired and sad.

"We're trying to help you," Shadow says. "I know you're confused and scared right now but I promise, we're going to help."

But the questions keep bouncing around in his skull and beads of sweat cling to his quills and his entire body aches with pain and he can't really tell if that's true.

Somehow Shadow convinces the others to let Sonic stay with him in his dorm. He can't blame them all for being wary. So it's a surprise to him when they finally concede. He'd insisted that Sonic's mental state would only worsen if they threw him back into a cell, and besides, if he ended up trying to pull anything, Shadow would be able to apprehend him immediately. That apparently convinced them enough.

(Besides, he can't help but feel the pure selfish need to just hold Sonic in his arms again. He never said this to the others, but somehow he feels like they can tell anyways.)

He settles Sonic down on the bed gingerly, and brings the blankets over him. The speedster sheds his sweater and sinks easily into the mattress, letting a long, heavy breath wash out of him. Shadow smiles a little at how relaxed he looks, before walking to the other side of the bed to lay down beside him.

Sonic clutches the blankets tautly, his gaze fixated on the ceiling. There are dark purple bags under his eyes.

His body is also riddled with dark purple bruises, some of them gray and green. But Shadow doesn't bring them up.

Tentatively, he stretches an arm over to link his fingers loosely around Sonic's. Emerald eyes drift over to him. They're dark with exhaustion.

"I'm glad you're here," Shadow whispers. Sonic just continues to stare, blinking lethargically. "… I missed you."

Sonic swallows thickly and Shadow watches his throat bob. He then releases a trembling breath and lets his eyes fall shut, but Shadow simply watches him. It feels surreal to him. He's been conscious of the fact that Sonic is alive and here for the past twenty-four hours or so, but right now, snuggled beneath blankets in bed, it is the first time that Sonic looks like himself. At peace. Calm. Content.

Shadow circles his thumb over his boyfriend's knuckles and lets slumber creep over him.

He drifts through a sea of darkness.

Tiny, insignificant bubbles of air race upwards, past him, too fast for him to catch and too tiny to matter. His lungs feel like they're shriveled up in some dark pit inside himself, already devoured in the ravenous, agonizing hunger for oxygen that has overtaken all of his senses.

It's strange. He can move about fluidly, if a little sluggish. The darkness extends out for an eternity, so large that his feeble mind can't even begin to comprehend it. But he feels so trapped. The pressure feels like it's making him collapse in on himself. His entire body feels like its decaying, melting into the void.

The only thought his mind can conjure is a bunch of scrambled numbers that only rack his body with more pain. They're endless and incessant and he doesn't know if he wants them to go away or not, because if they go away then at least the pain will stop, but then he'll be left alone again, without any thoughts of his own.

He's so tired of being controlled. He doesn't even know what's been doing it, but he just knows that there's been—something. Something tying strings around his wrists and ankles and throwing him around like a worthless puppet.

The numbers sear into the forefront of his mind and he curls into himself to try and ease the flaring pain. It does little to help. He wants to scream but he's too scared that the water will seep into his mouth and flood into his lungs if he does.

Six, his brain keeps repeating to him. He doesn't understand it.

Six six six six six six six—six, s—six, S… S-So… Soni—s—

Soldier.

The pain ebbs away and he takes a gulp of bitter saltwater without even realizing it.

Soldier. Return to your handler.

(—no, go away, stop—)

Return to your handler. Return to your handler. Return to your h—

Wakefulness surges through his nerves, suddenly and painfully, like a jolt of electricity.

The soldier opens his eyes and he doesn't know where he is.

Shadow has grown to be a light sleeper. He always was, relatively, but months of living on edge, on fear of being discovered by the enemy, has conditioned him to stir awake at the slightest movement or sound. It's a nuisance, when all he wants is to rest but the distant clatters of someone shifting around in the kitchen, or in the medical bay, or wherever keeps him conscious and jittery. But he supposes it's for the better. He doesn't technically need sleep, anyways.

It's just a nice solace, from everything else he has to deal with. A comforting few hours where he can simply close his eyes and let his mind fall silent.

Now, however, as wakefulness startles in him and urges him to lurch upwards, it isn't just a minor nuisance, an irritant that scrapes at his temples. It is a horrible feeling of unadulterated fear that lapses over him, like a rough, untamed wave, pulling him under into a manic frenzy.

The body beside him is climbing out of bed.

He grapples lamely but it's already standing, moving stiffly towards the door. Shadow's tongue is heavy in his mouth and a bitter flavor finds its way in there from his dry throat. He blinks the sleep away and is already slipping out of bed as well, before his mind has fully caught up and processed who else is here and why they are leaving. He just knows they shouldn't be.

"Wait, where…?"

The silhouette falters and glances to him. Glassy green eyes pierce through the darkness of the room and something cold lances through Shadow, sudden and chilling.

"Hey," he murmurs, stumbling forwards. The hedgehog grabs Sonic's wrist, stares at him carefully, pauses. Sonic makes no move to say or do anything. His expression is utterly dead. "Come—Come back to bed. Just lay down. Do you need anything?"

Sonic blinks languidly, and he trembles just slightly. "I need t'… need to go—"

"No, no," Shadow says, as gently as he can. He starts trying to lull his partner back to the bed, but Sonic is stubborn and frozen in place. "If you need something, I'll get it for you. You just need to lay down."

"I—" the cerulean male swallows thickly, gazing longingly at the door. "… My handler, need to…"

Shadow's heart stutters. He moves to grip Sonic's shoulders, firm and strong. "Calm down. You're not—you're here, okay? Not there. Don't worry about that."

"No!"

Sonic wrenches away from him. And Shadow's too—scared, because the last thing he wants is to upset him, or alarm him, or make it worse—

"I-I have to…" Sonic looks so lost, so confused. "Have to… I'm being bad, I-I…"

"You're not," the agent says, insistent. He tries to reach for Sonic again. "Just take a deep breath, honey—"

Sonic rears back, like some skittish woodland creature, and with a snarl, he slaps Shadow's hand away. Hard.

There is a long, thick silence that drapes over them, and Sonic's nearly hyperventilating, but then he just—he blinks, rapidly this time, and his eyes are filled with tears and horror and pain and it hurts so bad to look at, but Chaos, it's miles better than the hot, angry emptiness from moments ago. Shadow exhales slowly, but doesn't move, too scared he'll upset him again.

They just stare at each other for a long time, before Sonic seems to crumble. "… S-Sorry, I'm sorry, I didn't mean—I'm so sorry." He tries to take in oxygen but it won't filter in, he's choking on his own breath and—

"Hey, calm down, calm down. You didn't do anything wrong. Just breathe."

Emerald eyes linger on him, potent and wide with terror, before he finally gasps for air and lets them flutter shut. Sonic staggers wearily into his chest and just about collapses entirely. Shadow is resolute in his embrace, not letting him fall. He'll never let him go. Not again.

Sonic sobs into his chest fur, squeezes at his sides with taut fingers. "Sorry, I-I'm sorry, I don't—"

"You don't have to apologize," Shadow whispers into his ear. Sonic whimpers.

"Tell me," he moans. With a frown, Shadow pulls away slightly to stare into his puffy red eyes. Sonic digs his fingers further into his sides. His voice is hoarse and miserable and gut-wrenching. "P-Please, tell me."

Shadow is so scared to let go. Instead he rubs his thumb gingerly against Sonic's cheek. "Tell you what?"

"Tell me who I am," is his reply, and it sounds so terribly broken that Shadow can feel something like a knife twisting in his gut. "Please, Shadow… Please…"

He sighs; obliges.

Shadow leads him to a small and dank bathroom. He settles him on top of the counter, just beside the sink, and turns to draw a bath. A tense silence permeates the space between them, filled only by the heavy rush of steamy water from the spout. It continues for several minutes until the water is about three-quarters of the way up the tub, and Shadow turns the knob until it is completely silent again and the waters falls still.

He's helped down from the counter and walked slowly to the bath. Shadow urges him to get in without speaking. And it's sensible, really. His entire body is mottled with purple and gray and sickly red. His fur is matted and greasy. It's sensible for him to be bathed.

But there's something—something—nestled deep in his core that's screaming at him. Telling him to get away get away, because the water is dangerous, it'll swallow him whole. When he's in water he's stuck, too slow, unable to escape.

He sways and takes a step backwards. "I-I don't wanna."

Shadow looks at him and when he looks back he doesn't see surprise or annoyance in those bright ruby eyes. It's almost understanding, as if Shadow expected this reaction from him. "Why not?"

"It's…" He doesn't know. He asked Shadow for answers because he doesn't understand anything and he's sick of it. He doesn't know why he's scared of a stupid bath. "I just don't."

He's cast a longing look, one that asks for permission, almost precarious, before Shadow slips his hand into his. The dark hedgehog rubs easy circles into his palms.

"Do you remember your exercises?"

He stares bizarrely at Shadow. What kind of question is that?

Wordlessly, Shadow pulls off his gloves and dips a hand in the warm water, before bringing it up to him and extending it out. He hesitates before grasping it. Moisture smears against his hand and chills race up his spine.

"Now just take a deep breath," Shadow says, with a practiced, calm demeanor. "In and out."

He does.

The ebony male nods to him, then beckons to the tub. "Can you dip your hand in?"

This is… weird. There's something vaguely familiar about this. An old habit. "Yeah."

He does. The heat of the bath saps at his fingertips, and there's anxiety swirling in his chest but Shadow reminds him to take a deep breath and it helps quell his tremors, just a little.

"Do you remember this?" Shadow asks, again. "At all?"

"I…" he wavers, pulling his hand out of the water and watching beads of liquid drip back down to the porcelain tub. "I don't know."

Shadow laces his fingers around his own, the dampness mingling between their palms. There's a tight squeeze that helps ground him; makes his stomach flutter. "The bath is safe. It's shallow and warm. We can drain it. You can always get out. You're in control."

He nods, processing Shadow's words. "I'm in control."

Silence falls over them again but it isn't tense, it isn't too heavy. Shadow helps him step into the tub and sit down in the water. It ripples against his bare chest and he shudders as warmth crawls along his skin. It's soothing, despite the numb screams of anxiety that protest against this in the back of his mind. He's in control. He's safe.

Shadow clears his throat, crouched down beside the bath and still holding his hand. "We used to practice this a lot. You've never liked water."

No, he supposes. He hasn't.

He scrubs mindlessly at a clump of dried, blackened blood on his thigh, and it starts to flake away in the bathwater. "Sorry about… earlier," he mutters. "Got confused. I thought—I don't know. It was like I couldn't think, I just… I had to leave."

Shadow looks at him almost urgently. "Do you know where?"

"N-No." His ears fold back against his head. "Sorry."

He swashes his hand freely back and forth, watching the surface oscillate in its wake. He locks eyes with Shadow.

"Can you… tell me, now? Everything. I'm so tired of—of not knowing."

Shadow smiles tiredly and runs a hand through his disheveled blue quills.

There's a voice in the back of his head warning him against it, but Shadow tells him everything. He tells him about the ARK, how he nearly died, and how they found each other again. He tells him about their adventures, saving the world together, side by side, with all their friends. Of how they always managed to thwart the evil and reign victorious. Of their stupid dates at that old, run down diner, where Sonic always insisted that their chilidogs were the best in the city. He tells him that he was a hero; is a hero.

He tells him how much he loves him. How he loved Shadow, too.

Sonic looks uneasy, with his knees drawn to his chest and slumped so low that the bathwater is nearly to his chin. He's processing. He doesn't leave a single comment or ask a single question as Shadow rambles on and on, so long that his mouth feels dry and his throat burns. All the while he starts to wash Sonic with a cloth.

Finally, Shadow helps him out of the bath. Sonic shakes like he'll fall to his knees if he lets go, so he doesn't. He makes sure to prop him against the counter before he scours the bathroom for a towel and pulls the drain from the tub.

He wraps the hedgehog up tight in the old towel, and rubs his arms soothingly. "Are you alright?"

Sonic pauses, then nods. His eyes are wide and glassy again but there's still—still that underlying sorrow and confusion. He's still himself, not that thing Eggman made him into.

"My name is Sonic."

Shadow smiles unsurely and squeezes his shoulders. "Does that… jog any memories?"

He sniffs and bows his head. "I don't know."

Something melancholy churns in the pit of Shadow's stomach. That seems to be all Sonic is able to say, lately. He can see the frustration brimming in his jade eyes, the distraught. The agony of feeling closed off from the world, from his entire life. If he could trade places just to make Sonic feel better, Shadow would, in an instant.

"I wanna sleep."

Shadow bobs his head and guides him back to the bedroom.

Behind them, the last of the bathwater swirls down the drain.

In his dreams the pressure alleviates, almost imperceptibly so. But he notices. He notices how much more fluidly he can move, how sometimes a miraculous rush of air floods into his lungs and keeps his heart beating just a little longer.

But it's still too murky. And the surface is still too far away.

It gets a little easier. Shadow manages to coax him out more and more, just so he can interact with the others and feel less alienated. Sometimes he'll catch a smile flickering across Sonic's face, or a softening of his gaze when he's asked what he wants for breakfast.

It is, regardless, far from easy. He's constantly plagued with a newfound worry, especially whenever he and Sonic are apart. He can't help it, really. And given that he hasn't gotten a single patronizing stare from any of the others since Sonic began his recovery, Shadow assumes that they are vividly aware of this.

They begin talking to Sonic more. Tails grows less wary and Amy quickly returns to her overly flamboyant self. Knuckles is still standoffish but he always has been, so Shadow figures he can't expect much from him. But he can tell that Sonic feels just a little safer, a little calmer, as every day passes.

He's cautious about their boundaries. This Sonic, although being Sonic, is not his Sonic. He is, essentially, an entirely new person. It doesn't concern Shadow (because he refuses to let it) because he knows it must only be temporary. Soon enough it'll all come back to him. His memories—they're just repressed, behind months of brainwashing and gas-lighting. They just have to sift through all of that to find them again.

Case in point, Shadow doesn't want Sonic to feel uncomfortable. He'll be there for him in an instant, of course, but he won't shy away from keeping his distance. This Sonic isn't his boyfriend. He's hardly even his best friend. He's simply a vessel, finding his way, and he needs support. It's obvious enough that despite being an amnesiac, Sonic still clings to his subconscious affection for Shadow. He still eagerly allows him to snuggle in bed or hold his hand. But Shadow, unless he receives full, emotionally stable consent, refuses to go beyond such. Not even a small kiss.

It hurts him, just a little, knowing he can't really… reunite with Sonic. Because he's here, he's safe, Shadow can hold him in his arms again and keep him from harm, but—but he's still not quite here. He still has episodes where he wakes up a different person, where he thinks he's just a soldier again. He still has panic attacks and meltdowns because of his arduous identity crisis. And, even if he does remember one day, Shadow knows it still won't be the same.

This isn't his carefree, arrogant, fun-loving boyfriend anymore. He's… severely fucked up. Of course, this doesn't deter Shadow in the slightest. He has already made it his mission to continue to fight for Sonic for the rest of his life, no matter what it takes, because he will always love him no matter the circumstances.

It's just… stupidly hard. But they'll get through it. They have to.

Two weeks pass and they decide to let him out into the field. Shadow isn't quite sure how they came to this decision, as he certainly doesn't agree with it, but Sonic is so insistent and he is vastly outnumbered.

Sonic is anxious to get out, which, okay, Shadow can give him that. He'd be anxious to get out of the stuffy compound too, after being holed up for weeks. It's just—scary. If he freaks out or gets hurt or anything—

Rouge is at his side, suddenly, squeezing his shoulder. "It's gonna be fine, hon. Blue can take care of himself."

Shadow crosses his arms and tenses. "I know."

When he turns back to their bedroom Sonic is already suited up, pulling on his boots. He convinced the others to let him wear his old, scuffed up armor—mainly because, although once the Hero of Mobius, he's now a trained assassin. And, therefore, the suit was his best bet. Plus, Tails was excited enough to repair and upgrade it himself.

The hedgehog presses something at the back of his neck and obsidian nanobots glide over his face to form his helmet. He exits the room and stops beside Shadow to give him a determined nod.

"Remember," Shadow says, lowly. "If you need to get out of there, for whatever reason, you just tell me. It can get intense out there."

Sonic stares for a moment, but it's impossible to read his eyes from behind the tinted mask. "Okay."

Their mission is simple enough. They're just scoping out a nearby Black Arms hive some scouts had reported to them the other day. But it's likely going to get messy, and Sonic receiving another episode of PTSD or an anxiety attack is the last thing he's going to need. Sonic can handle himself, though. He trusts him, even in the unstable state he's in.

Shadow guides him down the winding halls till they meet up with the others and Knuckles gestures for them to follow after him. The mission is to be silent, hence why it is nighttime. Anything to hide them from the aliens is useful.

They head out towards the nearest metropolitan area—a wrecked, vacated Empire City—and discover the hive only a few miles away, on the outskirts. This one is particularly large and nasty, its gushy black walls slick with an unknown fluid. The structure is lumpy and vaguely dome-shaped, and tunnels branch out of it and weave around abandoned buildings and beneath the ground like the rotting roots of a sickly tree. A few Black Arms grunts patrol around outside, but they know enough to know that the majority of the aliens are inside.

Most of the group decides to wait outside (because the Black Arms love to call for help from nearby pods) while Shadow leads the charge inside. Knuckles and Rouge and the rest are able to take out the lurking aliens, and Shadow approaches the entrance with Sonic.

Shadow pulls out a pocketknife and plunges it into what he assumes to be the front door to the hive. It's this big, thick, leathery material that almost looks like it writhes in pain when Shadow stabs it, and it's enough to elicit a little bile in the back of his throat. Sonic watches him work silently, as he starts slicing along the edges to cut it down so they can break in.

Once he's cut a hole in it, the wall-material flops over like a massive tree frond, and Shadow is quick to catch it to avoid any noise, before slipping inside. Sonic is right behind him.

They stay low to the ground and take a moment to scan their surroundings. It's dark and the air is heavy, and Shadow feels sort of like he's inside the stomach of one of the aliens. Everything is coated in a vulgar film of slime, and not too far away, more Black Arms soldiers are travelling up and down the corridors, transporting supplies and conversing in their strange language.

Shadow glances around until he spots the main hall—which is really more of a large, gross tunnel lit up with dim yellow lights along the flooring and walls, and eerie red veins streamed arbitrarily down it. He gestures to it to get Sonic's attention.

"That's where we need to go," he murmurs under his breath. "We need to take out their leader. It'll send them into a frenzy but they're easier to deal with that way."

Sonic studies the tunnel before nodding at Shadow. He says, soft but firm, "Right behind you."

When they arrive in what Shadow can only describe as the throne room, Sonic tells him, absolute, undeterred, "Let me do it."

The alien rests in the center of the room, bolted to the floor and ceiling through the broad, black veins that run from its body and along the walls like snakes. They thrum steadily, with whatever sort of liquid is pumping throughout the hive to keep it thriving and sturdy. Shadow can feel it pulsating through the walls; through the small squish each step of his makes against the uneven floor. If he thinks too hard about it, he might get nauseas, so instead he focuses on Sonic's words.

"Are you sure?" he whispers back. They keep their voices low to avoid detection. Similarly, they're currently hidden out in the corridor, peaking cautiously into the room to look at the dormant beast.

This one is larger than the others, its skin scarred and lit up with unnatural bulbs and glowing streams of alien light; the top of its head is pointed like a crown. Although it seems asleep, Shadow has no doubt it is doubly more menacing than its lesser companions. It's the leader of this hive, after all—the one they've got to take out.

Sonic nods, and withdraws his knife. Considers. "Yes."

Shadow tentatively reaches over to squeeze his hand once. "Be careful."

And Sonic looks at him strangely, this weird fog in his eyes, but then he shakes his head to rid of whatever thoughts clouded his mind, and nods affirmatively. Carefully, he crawls into the room, his blade at the ready, and approaches the creature. Shadow holds his breath and watches.

When he gets close enough, Sonic stops and raises up his wrist, moments away from plunging it into the skull of the alien, but then he just—stops. Trembles. Stumbles backwards.

A pang of worry slams against Shadow without warning, and he's already scrambling to his feet before he really comprehends what he's doing. He figures he should probably regret drawing attention to himself, but Sonic clearly isn't okay, and that's top priority in his mind. "Hey, are you-?"

Sonic falls against the wall behind him and black muck squelches against his suit. He gasps, seeming to gradually come to his senses, and tries to stabilize himself.

But it's too late. They woke it up.

The armored hedgehog clutches his temples as the thing begins to stir, grumbling in the back of its throat as the veins tethering it to the ceiling and ground start to retract, and it pulls itself to its feet. Sonic looks desperately at Shadow, and he's shaking, just slightly. "I—shit, I'm sorry, I just panicked, I don't—"

"Look out!" Shadow shouts, firing his pistol at the monster as he lunges into the throne room. It screeches as the bullet burrows into its shoulder, losing its balance and bearings momentarily, before it steadies again. This one apparently has thicker skin than its subordinates, evidenced in how it literally plucks the bullet out like it's some annoying bug nibbling at it. Its skin wraps over the wound before settling back into place, and suddenly it's as if Shadow never shot it to begin with.

At least that's enough to slow it down, though, because as it recuperates Sonic lunges forward, shoving the thing on its back as he tries to drive his blade right through its chest. Except that's futile too, because the plating there is even harder, impenetrable. Sonic tries to chip away at it before hastily deciding to go for the neck. He barely nicks its chin before the beast hooks one of its massive paws around the hedgehog's waist, and chucks him across the room.

Shadow is frozen, for a moment, trying to scan its body and find a weak point that he can easily access. There's also panic thudding inside his chest with each reverberating heartbeat, as he finds it hard to tear his gaze from Sonic, slumped against the wall on the other side of the room.

The creature turns swiftly to Shadow, and bellows out an ear-grating cry, and charges towards him like a maniac. Its eyes simmer with a feral rage that he's grown accustomed to over the course of the war, from all the other aliens, but this one seems far more passionate and terrifying. He hardly has a chance to brace himself for impact from how fast it tears across the space between them.

And he expects pain—he expects claws ripping into him and alien slobber dripping over his face and the crushing weight of the massive thing pinning him down. But instead, there's an explosion, the entire hive seems to shake, and a ravenous heat presses against him—and then the alien cries pitifully and there is nothing.

Shadow pries open his eyes and inhales sharply, a rush of adrenaline rolling over his body because holy fuck, he's still in one piece.

The hive, conversely, is not.

It's more of a crater of black goo now, with the ceiling almost completely torn off and all the alien corpses strewn about, in plain sight. Shadow is briefly stalled by the sudden sensation of the night's cool breeze, and he simply processes. Swallows in the scene around him. Sonic, he realizes, is clambering slowly to his feet, still several meters away but at least intact.

There is a chilling laughter from up above that makes Shadow's blood boil.

Dr. Eggman hovers not too far away in his Egg Mobile, a gloating smirk at his lips as he shimmers ever so brilliantly in the moonlight. He seems particularly conceited here, and it is from this deduction that Shadow pieces everything together. He notes how the Egg Mobile seems more bulky than usual, equipped with a massive cannon that hangs beneath it like the stinger of a wasp. How smoke sizzles from its nozzle, the immediate aftermath of a blast; how, adjacently, the devastated hive simmers with hot black goop.

When he looks over to Sonic, he sees a paralyzed, stiff silhouette that can't tear his eyes from the madman. Shadow raises a placating hand, slow enough to not startle the man that practically holds them at gunpoint, and calls over to him, "Hey. Sonic. Look at me."

And he hopes.

Sonic eventually obliges in a slow, robotic motion, and Shadow wishes so badly right now that he wasn't wearing his helmet.

"Are… you alright?"

Sonic is silent. And then—"F-Fine."

Okay. Okay. Good. He's still… himself. (For now.)

A rush of something, icy and terrible and agonizing, races down Shadow's spine.

The doctor laughs drily. His gaze is locked directly onto Sonic. "Took you long enough to show your face. I've been on a wild goose chase, looking for you."

At this point the rest of the resistance members that tagged along for this mission are approaching, from where they'd been hiding outside of the hive. They're slow and uneasy.

"What do you want?" Shadow snaps, because he's frankly already fed up with Eggman's presence. The corporeal anxiety that wafts off of Sonic in suffocating waves doesn't help, either.

"Well, I'll put it like this," he replies, and the cannon attached to his Egg Mobile starts to heat up with a dull yellow light. "You can give me back what is mine, or I can kill all of you."

"You're outnumbered."

Eggman shrugs, and there's something so blasé about him that puts Shadow on edge. "Well, technically, yes. But I've also just obliterated an alien hive, and caused quite a scene with that blast. I'd give it another five minutes before more Black Arms start to show, and I don't think they'll be very happy."

And—fuck. Fuck. Shadow hadn't considered that, but the doctor is right. That's why they keep these missions quiet in the first place—because the aliens are all connected, somehow, and they can sense when their brethren are injured. They're going to seek vengeance, one way or another.

He opens his mouth to object, to find anything to say, rifle around for some sort of advantage, when Sonic steps up. "I'll go."

Shadow clenches his jaw. "No, you can't just—"

"You need to run," Sonic tells him, and his words drive right into Shadow like a sharpened blade. "And—And you need to stop pretending you can salvage whatever the hell I'm supposed to be. I'm not him. I haven't been him in a long time, and you have to accept that."

He—no, Sonic, he can't—

"Please, Shadow." He taps the base of his skull and his helmet recedes into the collar of his suit. Sonic's eyes are heavy and tired and sad, and Shadow feels an aching feeling twist around his heart. "Just go."

There are screeches in the distance, loud and terrible, and he knows there is no time.

Shadow flees, alongside the rest, and ignores the moisture that pricks his tear ducts.

He's thrown into his old room.

(No, that isn't right.)

He's thrown into his old cell.

It's smaller than he remembers, and as he reels on the floor, sprawled out and gasping for breath, he feels a tightness coil up in his chest. The oxygen feels like it's running thin in here, and the door is locked and he won't have any way out—

But his handler will be back soon. He'd told him simply that they only needed a few minutes to prepare, and then—and then he would be wiped again, and he would forget.

It's for the better.

That's why he's here, isn't it? Because he realized, back in the hive, that he couldn't keep living a lie. He couldn't keep playing pretend, trying to be someone he's not, constantly living in the shadow of someone else; of someone better than him.

Sonic was strong. Sonic was full of life and joy and love. He never faltered, never quit, never gave up.

He is weak. He panicked instead of just stabbing the alien and killing it. He's scared, and drained, and the sight of water still makes him uneasy, and sometimes he just feels so stuck, so alone, like he's trapped in this little cage and the iron bars are smelted around him, hardened and thick and unbreakable, a prison that never wilts.

And he feels guilty. He's felt the guilt tugging at him persistently, ever since he woke up, really woke up, and his mind was still a whirlwind of soldier and Six, and Shadow was there, and Shadow held him. He felt it persist in the heavy, sad looks the others would cast him as he roamed the halls of the resistance's base. In the way Shadow would stare at him distantly, whenever he pretended to be asleep and the bedroom was too dark for Shadow to tell that he was awake. In the way he'd nearly catch the remnants of whispered, hushed conversations, that echoed bitter words of 'but it's not really him.'

So this—this must be better, right? At least here he has a purpose, at least here he can't mess up. Once his mind isn't plagued with these muddled thoughts anymore he can just follow orders and rest and forget. He can just be.

The robots return to fetch him.

They drag him down the long, dark corridors of his handler's headquarters until he's back in a far too familiar room and he's being strapped down to the same cold, metal chair he always sits in. Steel fingers work intricately to place electrodes on his skin and tighten his leather bonds. His handler stares at him from across the room, his face a blank slate.

He thinks of the alien, sleeping in the throne room of the hive. He thinks of drawing his knife and lifting it up and nearly plunging it right through its skull. He thinks of the fear that seized him, the hesitance, the words that rang clearly and painfully through his head that told him no, not anymore, not again. He thinks of the raw urge stewing in his gut that knew, in perfect resonance with his conscience, that he can't kill anymore. He can't.

His handler says something to the robots and they press a few buttons on the machine and it starts to whir to life.

He's going to forget everything, any second now. He's going to forget who he is, who he was. Shadow.

And he—he doesn't want that.

He wants to go back. He wants to be held in Shadow's arms again and he wants to feel safe. He wants to learn about who he used to be. He wants to hear more stories about how brave and compassionate and strong Sonic was. He wants to tell Shadow that he's sorry, for not being good enough, for hurting him. He wants—

—He wants to breathe again.

Lightning consumes his body, hot and seething, and he's pulled under again.

This time, he is not alone.

A hand makes its way into his line of vision, more of a dark silhouette than anything else amongst the murky waters. His ears ring with pressure and salt burns his eyes and his skin feels pruned. But the hand stretches out before him, a calling gesture, and somehow he finds the strength to fight against the current and grab onto it.

The hand squeezes his own. He exhales, and the last bit of air left in his lungs escapes his nose and flitters away in tiny bubbles. He closes his eyes and doesn't let go.

And then there is a rush. It's thrilling, and it gets his heart beating faster and faster and he suddenly realizes he doesn't remember the last time he's felt so alive. It's like he's being dragged along by a roller coaster, except this is so much better because somehow it awakens his senses enough for him to know that he's being pulled straight upwards, towards the surface.

The water glides across his body, rough and coarse and nearly painful but he doesn't care, he's swallowed in a feeling of exhilaration, and all he can think is faster, faster, faster.

A blast of cold slaps him in the face and he peels open his eyes against the sizzling, vibrant sunlight that rests on the horizon. He is surrounded by hundreds of miles of open sea. But this time he's not stuck underneath. This time he's breached the surface.

He laughs, a stupid thing, and his vocal chords feel sore as they work in his throat. Oxygen pours readily inside of him and he breathes, really, truly breathes, and it's the most magnificent sensation he's ever experienced. The sun is warm on his face and he calms down enough to wade steadily at the surface of the ocean. He simply balks, spinning around and absorbing in the beautiful, gorgeous, amazing sky wrapped overhead in a dome of indigo. Seagulls flutter by and the clouds look so light and puffy, he feels as though he could almost reach up and graze them with his fingertips.

The hand slips away from his, and he turns.

He meets a pair of green eyes. They belong to a sleek, nimble body, drenched to the bone and shivering slightly from the cold waters. But this person's got a smile painted on their face, and their quills are so amazingly blue against the dark sea and the pale sky that it's almost too wonderful of a sight for him to take in.

The stranger's eyes glisten with mirth when they speak, and their voice sounds so easy and strong it sparks jealously in his chest. He still feels so shaky and tired, and his throat burns raw with saltwater. He just doesn't have the energy to talk.

"Hey," they say to him, and they drift forwards to wrap their arms around him. He lets them. "It's okay. You're okay, now. I'm sorry I took so long. But we're here."

He wants to tell them, it's fine, I didn't think anybody would come for me anyways, but then he blinks and they are gone. He now drifts alone in the deep, calm waters. There is a new warmth that continues to encircle him, even now, as he is no longer held in their embrace.

And he smiles.

I'm okay now.

He breathes.

The alarms screech into Shadow's ears like nails on chalkboard. He grinds his teeth irately and pushes himself further, deeper into the labyrinth of grays and reds and cold, frantically scanning his surroundings.

It's strangely vacant here, save for the occasional badnik that he whips past so fast they hardly have time to react to him. In any other circumstances that would probably be cause for worry, but here, now, he only has one priority, and it has consumed him wholly. He doesn't care what the doctor is planning. He just need to find Sonic.

Eventually he stumbles upon what he'd presume to be some sort of control room. It's decently sized and, surely enough, occupied by the man of the hour. There is a large contraption in the center of the room, several wires running from it to a metal chair, in a tangled mess.

Sonic is sitting in it, strapped down and hooked up like a science project. He's unconscious, and his entire body convulses unnaturally as electric currents ripple over him.

Shadow kind of wants to throw up.

Instead, he kicks down the door, Chaos Energy thrumming in his blood and making such an action swift and effortless. Eggman jostles at the loud noise and takes a step back as the hedgehog enters the room. Shadow figures he's quite a sight: glowing red with Chaos, a sneer pulled at his lips, shaking with palpable anger. The doctor seems to think as much.

"Let him go," he says, each word drenched in venom. It is a simple demand, and he hopes Eggman is sane enough to abide.

He does not. Instead, the man slowly walks over to a control panel against the wall, fiddles with a few buttons—and then the large machine Sonic is connected to hisses and the engine dies. Sonic falls still, his eyes remaining closed. He almost looks peaceful.

"Soldier," Eggman barks, and Sonic startles awake, like a deeply buried instinct. It makes Shadow's stomach turn. "At attention."

Sonic blinks blearily, trying to take in his surroundings. His wrists are bound to the arms of the chair and he seems completely dazed. Every now and then, a shudder crawls over him and he grimaces involuntarily.

The doctor attempts to cross the room to reach the hedgehog and Shadow makes to stand in the way, but then Eggman draws out a gun. "I'd stay back if I were you."

Fuck. In any other case this threat would mean nothing to Shadow—he'd take a bullet any day for Sonic—but being incapacitated right now, not even sure of the current mental state of Sonic, deep within the bowels of Eggman's territory, doesn't necessarily spell out anything good for him. Begrudgingly, Shadow lifts his hands up and backs up to the wall. Eggman grumbles and strides up to Sonic, starting to unfasten his bindings.

The blue hedgehog watches the doctor with a dim look on his face, almost like he's half asleep. He looks twitchy, though Shadow figures he can chalk that up to the electrocution. Subtly, slowly, Sonic's features draw into an almost-frown, and Eggman seems oblivious as he frees him from the chair and takes off the electrodes stuck to his body.

And then he shoves his gun in Sonic's face. "Prove your loyalty to me, soldier. Kill him."

Shadow's blood runs cold and he shifts his weight uneasily. Sonic looks at the thing like he's never seen a gun in his life, and blinks languidly. Mulls it over.

He takes it; feels its weight flow to his hands. Looks the weapon over, and grips it tightly.

A smile, sickly and large, stretches across Eggman's face, and he takes a few steps backwards to observe from afar. Shadow can tell the fucker is just—eating this up. He wants to be mad, wants to shove a Chaos Spear down his goddamn throat, but then—then Sonic stands up and his finger curls over the trigger and he lifts up the pistol, and Shadow freezes up.

"Sonic," ghosts from his lips, an impulse, and Shadow instantly thinks that it's stupid because the last thing he needs is to freak out the unstable person wielding a loaded weapon, but Sonic just stops at the sound of that name. His eyes are wide and so, so green as they gaze right over at Shadow. "… Honey, look at me."

He flinches at the way his voice breaks off into a cracked whisper. Sonic swallows thickly but doesn't lower the gun. He keeps it trained right at Shadow's face.

"I love you," he tells him, because he doesn't know what else to do, now. He's going to die here. There is no going back. "Always will. Just do what you have to do. I won't be upset."

Sonic is weirdly stiff and he seems a little more awake now—less stuck in his lazy trance. Shadow can almost see his lip quivering, if he squints. It's such a quiet, unnoticeable thing.

He flicks the safety off. Shadow closes his eyes and waits.

Gunpowder explodes across the room.

A fatal silence drapes over them all.

And Shadow opens his eyes.

He exhales, a shaky thing that leaves him alongside a great deal of tension—albeit, not all of it. His muscles are still tight and he doesn't attempt to move from his spot, because he doesn't really know what just happened other than something isn't right, because I'm not dead.

Sonic's back is to him, and his entire body is racked in violent tremors, his shoulders hunched with stress. He hiccups quietly and a pang of remorse hits Shadow so hard it draws tears.

He asks, just a quiet murmur, "Sonic?"

When he turns around there are tears streaming down his face and a wretched, distraught look in his eyes. The pistol slips from his fingers and clatters to the ground, and it's now that Shadow notices there is blood splattered on the wall behind him, and he can see a large body slumped against it.

Sonic wipes his eyes uselessly and he opens his mouth, but no words come out. Shadow is with him in an instant, hugging him like if he lets go the whole world will crumble around them. Sonic wavers only briefly before a sob tears from his throat and he holds Shadow back, burying his face into his shoulder. They slowly settle to their knees, too weak and shaken to stand.

"Shadow," Sonic stutters out, "Shad—Shads, I'm—it's me, it's me, I'm so sorry…"

And he locks up, blinks wildly, pulls away from their hug; cups Sonic's face. "You're-?"

Sonic nods frantically and his face screws up as more moisture pools in his eyes. "It's me, I—I remember, Chaos, I remember, I'm so—"

Shadow kisses him, such a thoughtless, gentle thing, because he's known this whole time that the first thing he was going to do when he found him again was kiss him. Sonic barely reacts at first, until he just relaxes in his arms, exhales, and reciprocates. It's brief and doesn't go anywhere beyond that but that's okay, because they're here, they're together, they're safe.

"Sorry," Sonic murmurs, and he curls up to tuck his head under Shadow's chin. "So sorry, didn't remember sooner, couldn't—"

Shadow quiets him with a firm kiss on his forehead, and he rubs easy circles on his back. "Don't apologize. You did nothing wrong. It's okay."

A whimper slips out from Sonic, and he holds Shadow tighter, like his life depends upon it. Shadow smiles into soft blue quills and hugs him back, just as tight.

There's still a war waging outside. Still an army of aliens swarming the planet. But Shadow isn't worried anymore, because he has Sonic, and he knows that if they're together they can do anything. So he relishes in this moment, and they just hold each other for a little while.

And they breathe.

aaaaaaahh,, so. that's that! i'm pretty proud of this fic, and it's been in the works for a few months now, so i'm glad to finally finish it. if u enjoyed lemme know with a fav, or leave a review!