Chaos: Oh. My. God. I have no idea what this is. It really, really creeps me out. I think it's even the first thing I'm rating 'R' (due to suggestion). You know, I've firmly resisted writing Knuxadow for a long, long time. And now the one time I do, Nam isn't even here. How does that make sense? Oh, well. Even posting it doesn't make sense. I guess I like writing Knuckles, and haven't done so for a long time. That, paired with my new thing for Sonadow and Sonic: Sketchy (commentary), and my current need for sleep, I think, spawned this little malevolent... thing.

Warnings; Suggestion, disturbing concepts... implied rape... cut scenes, italics, hidden references,repititionand patterns. Cookies to anybody who works them out, or even understands this gibberish. o.O

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Knuckles is wet. He is cold. But at least he still has his pride.

That's the only thing he has.

He is standing on a thin wooden bar; too thin, especially when as damp as it is now. The wood has swelled up with rainwater, but that only makes the bar slippery and even more likely to break under his weight.

And he can't see anything, either. He didn't know until now the sheer maddening feeling that comes when your eyes are open but you can't see, no matter how hard you stare.

Still, he can put up with that. What is really nagging at his brain is the thought of the drop. It's not a particularly long one, perhaps not even a dangerous one. He knows the ground is there.

But that doesn't stop instinct. No matter he hard he tries, no matter how many hours of training he has put himself through, he can't suppress instinct. Instinct that takes one metaphorical look at the black space below him and panics.

The rain's hissing is maddening, and it keep running into his eyes, over his spines, through his fur, chilling him to the bone. It threatens to make him give in and willingly tumble from his thin perch.

But he has dealt with threats before.

He won't move. His pride won't let him move.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

"You realise what you are getting into, don't you?"

"Don't play around with me. I'm serious!"

"Oh, so am I."

"Then say something, for God's sake."

"You really do not know..."

"Damn it, give-

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Oh, the irony of his situation. He would laugh bitterly, but he has to keep all his muscles tightly clenched or his teeth will start chattering, he will start shivering, his body desperately trying to pull some warmth into itself.

And that would be a sign of weakness. He won't show that. Not any more.

He'll stand here and bear it until the eyes that he knows are watching – laughing, burning eyes – are satisfied, or bored. Both work equally.

And when he is free he will kill Shadow the hedgehog.

And then maybe he will cry.

He isn't sure.

He's never made the wrong choice before, and he doesn't know what to expect.

He never knew what to expect.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

-me an answer!"

"Yes."

"What?"

"My answer is yes."

"… You'd better not be making fun of me!"

"Oh, do I need to prove myself to you? Come here-

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Memories. He realises now that memories are as brutal as actual wounds, maybe worse. The rain, the cold, the screaming instinctive need to rip himself free, they are nothing to the memories.

The pain.

The kisses.

He wishes to give in, to break down, but his pride will not let him. Instead it takes his hand and shows him a new strength, one he has not spent his life training for - it shows him how to be bitter, to turn to ice, not to forget but to hate.

He controlled his emotions before, as best he could, until that one fatal outburst. That one dreadful mistake. Now he realises the fire that pure hatred can bring.

It is hot. And he is cold.

He welcomes it.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

-and let me show you."

He obeyed, did not question why he obeyed in that moment of simple, desperate need.

'Kiss' wasn't a word good enough to sum up what he experienced. It was beyond that, something distant and close at the same moment, as though he had been in a bubble all his life and it had just popped. And he was falling into an expanse beyond anything he had known, falling alongside pieces that were familiar to him, but yet entirely different.

He wanted more. A need became a craving that was never satisfied. Moments, hours, they were never enough. Kissing, stroking, touching, and all the time the red fire in those eyes, blazing with some mysterious feeling, seemed to become more and more intense.

"Do you trust me?"

"With everything-

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

He hates.

He has let himself get fooled, get lost in bliss. He has fallen completely under the spell that the dark form and dancing ruby eyes cast.

A look, a secret smile, a wink perhaps, and he followed like a trusting puppy.

The memories torment him, an injured sting to his pride with every remembered second. But he will endure. If he can pass this night, his pride says, he will become stronger. He will learn to rise again when he is knocked down.

But that skill will not be important, for he will not make a mistake again.

And he will pay for his first one in Shadow's blood.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

-I have."

A smile came, quirked with satisfaction, and a deadly glint in the red eyes. All it did was make him hunger; make him move closer for more.

"Good."

Shadow's teeth sank into his shoulder and he let out a low moan of ecstasy, forgetting everything. They were tiptoeing the line between pain and pleasure, and he could never have enough of the unsure quality of it.

Everything with Shadow was unsure. The hedgehog himself was like smoke in a breeze, everywhere and nowhere, a flicker of jet-black flame. Kisses one moment and insults the next, caresses and claws intertwined.

Knuckles was in love.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Whoever said 'it is better to have loved and lost than to never have loved at all' was an idiot. Ignorance was bliss. Nothing was worth the pain he was feeling now.

A falter. The wooden bar beneath him cracked! He cursed as his balance was thrown off – his backspines, deeply embedded into the thicker bar behind him, gave a cruel tug, threatening to tear.

Unexpected. But of course, the windmill had burned out years ago, that would have caused weaknesses in the wood that he hadn't anticipated.

Unexpected. Like Shadow.

Hate.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

"What are you doing?"

Black smoke around the Emerald, his Emerald. Shadow turned and stared at him, eyes dancing with reflected green light, and his suspicions melted with enchantment. The two things he lived for, both so beautiful.

A whisper of jets against stone and the hedgehog was beside him, streaked arms tracing his shoulders like silk and eyes now so intense that they seemed almost wicked.

"Do you trust me?"

"Yes." He said it without thought.

"Shut-

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

He straightens, trying to regain his stoical pose again. The bar shifts dangerously, the wood groaning faintly under the noise of the storm; he can't get a good balance without breaking it further.

He swears angrily. Now his spines are yanking him back a little, making it harder and harder for him to resist just ripping free and getting away from this torture. But then he would be bald, and humiliated, and Shadow would win again.

He never thought he would think it, but he should have listened to Sonic. "Shadow is bad news, take it from me. He's cuckoo up here." Peach fingers had tapped blue spines meaningfully, with the same grace and movement that Shadow's used.

He swears again. The dark hedgehog is haunting his thoughts.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

-your eyes."

He did. Mistake, mistake, mistake.

Kisses.

More than kisses.

"I love you."

They went to the Emerald shrine often after that.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

But he will not forget, though the pain is terrible. The memories feed his hate; without them, he would forget, he would forgive.

He would lose everything again.

He will never forget.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

He was sitting on the Emerald. Shadow was crouching like a cat atop one of the pillars, eyes brilliant with light, reflected and not.

"Which of us do you love more?"

He was silent, feeling the trusting hum of the Emerald through his bare fingers. Shadow ghosted down, closer, waiting expectantly.

"You." He said at last.

"Good." He was never quite sure how Shadow did it – with a kick, a punch, a Chaos attack, he couldn't tell – but there was a sudden terrible explosion, and he was thrown back in a shower of sparkling shards.

Shock. A green splinter of Emerald was stuck in his chest, close enough for him to watch the glow dimming. Shadow's fingers pulled it free. And a pink tongue licked away the blood.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Lightning sears across his eyes, near-blinding him. The storm is only just beginning. He wonders whether Shadow is still watching him, or has already left.

Hatred has become rage. And rage is building, like a volcano inside him, as the memories replay.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

For the first time, he fought.

They had fallen from the line, into the abyss of pain. Shadow had gone too far. His eyes were no longer red – they were fire, empty of anything except an overpowering hunger and lust.

Knuckles fought. But it was not enough. Bewilderingly, it was not enough. And he understood his mistake with bitter pain, let it out in screams.

Shadow was not in love with him. Maybe he had been, at some point, but there was a madness inside him that had spiralled far from control. There was no longer any consideration, any care, any feeling.

The black hedgehog enjoyed himself. Knuckles did not. And now he realised that that made no difference whatsoever.

Then there was darkness.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

And then he was on the windmill, in the cold, in the night, in the storm. And he was going to kill Shadow.

-.-.-.-.-.FIN-.-.-.-.-