A/N: Sorry for the long wait, school work caught up with me. Whelp, here you go.

Disclaimer: All characters belong to SEGA

Chapter 2: Realization

It's a quiet drive.

The eastern sky is somber-colored, darkening the evening sun—blinding the light. Obscure, amorphous clouds line the upper atmosphere and the blurred visage of cars and trees pass by with each mile that flew beneath his tires. I don't dare look at Shadow, something was entirely wrong and I can feel the tension-filled radiation emanating from him, making my uneasiness churn in my stomach. I stare out my window instead; the cool condensation tickling my nose.

I choke up the will and courage to look at him. Just for a second. Without turning my head, I sneak a look out of the corner of my eye, unclear on how to approach him. Unsure how to talk to him.

His firm left hand clenches the steering wheel while his right arm relaxes on the armrest. His eyes watch the road without a flick of distraction. A practically preening sense of connection charge through my veins; my fingers are twitching, itching to reach out and brush his fingers dangling from the edge of the armrest. But I keep my hands in my lap, disciplining my yearning to curl my fingers around his. He gets so stiff and evasive when he's like this; quiet and deep in the crevices of his mind, shutting everything and everyone out like a blockade.

It hurts when he pulls away from me. He's done this so many times before…

Darn it, I just want to touch him—spur some type of reaction in his cold, hard-set face.

…And then massage out the mean cleft in his adamant brow.

…And then trace the frowning outline of his lips with the tip of my finger.

…And then lean over and interlock our lips together in a simple, soothing kiss.

…I sit in silence, watching as his blazing eyes stare straight out at the road in front of us. His demeanor is callous and perturbing as I study the chiseled features of his face. My mouth opens, and then closes. I attempt to speak up but my words are caught in my throat and my thoughts are in a fog. I don't like this feeling of insecurity that washed over me—I never felt this way around anyone before, especially not around Sonic. Mentally scalding my fears in a boiling pot, I inwardly sigh and speak:

"Shadow, is everything alright?" I ask. My voice sounds diffident; weak and unconvincing.

I never sound like that.

I flinch at my hesitance and shrink back into my seat, all attempts of bravery gone out the window.

"Yeah," He said, voice controlled.

"You don't seem okay," I persist. "Talk to me, you're always shutting me out."

He looks over to me without moving his head a fraction in my direction, eyes glazing over in silent rejection.

"It's just been a long day that's all." Shadow shifts his eyes forward to the windshield, but I can't tell if he is watching the road or not. He sounds exhausted, but I know there is more troubling him, there is something he's not telling me.

"What are you thinking about?"

He shrugs his shoulders passively.

"You'll feel better if you express your thoughts to someone else than keeping them bottled up inside," I beam. "That's what I do to get weight off my chest."

Shadow's frown deepens and his response comes immediately and without benevolence, "Well not everyone is you, Amy." His tone is strikingly harsh.

Taken aback and hurt; anger is seeping, boiling, and bubbling in my innards. Frustratingly, I blow out a rough and exasperated sigh, falling back into my seat and pouting like a little child who didn't get what she wanted. I sneer at the comparison and blow up:

"You know what I give up." I throw my hands in the air and let them fall back in my lap with an audible smack on my thighs. I am getting so fed up with this hedgehog—no, no he's more of a rock than a hedgehog, cold and cynical.

I can feel my cheeks getting hotter and redder and angrier and my nerves are fuming as I reply, "Do you know what your problem is!? Huh, do you? You're difficult! I was only trying to help!" I babble angrily.

Unfazed he speaks, "While I appreciate your concerns, I don't believe my thoughts are any of your business. I don't need you prying in my head all the time."

I listen, stunned. I hold back the reflex of letting my mouth hang open in astonishment. That was it? That was all that he could say? He was quiet and I watch as his expression rise up in regret.

Nor Shadow or I have the will to apologize—that's what we have in common; our pride and stubbornness are too impregnable to admit defeat.

I bite my lip and rake my fingers through my hair to calm my nerves. Staring out in the middle of the road, I gaze at the headlights and how they illuminate the road, shining florescent sparkles on the raindrops. We should be close to my apartment by now.

The green light from the dashboard shadows over the bronze sheen of his muzzle, his lips pressed in a hard line.

"I apologize, my intentions were not to anger or offend you," His voice is very low. "I just have a lot on my mind since the Doctor's disappearance. G.U.N. has kept me on their watch. And because of my past transactions with him more than a decade ago, I think they suspect that I have something to do with his absence."

He turns to look at me with a grateful expression. I hold his crimson eyes with my own, comprehending the emotions behind their solid, yet translucent doors.

"Do you think that they will turn on you?" I probe. I am strikingly aware of the sudden seriousness of the conversation; too much is at stake if Shadow wants to live a normal lifestyle. Not every detail of Shadow's past and purpose are secured in G.U.N.'s government files, but I know the deep ties Shadow has with the Robotnik descent—I just hope G.U.N. won't connect the dots.

"There is a chance." Ill-spoken and grim, he balls his fingers into a fist on the armrest.

An uneasy wave of insecurity charges in the air and flits out between us. I can tell by how his face hardens, that he was truly worried about the outcome of these conditions. Sadly, I look down at his constricting fist, then back up to his face, trying to find some form of reassurance.

"We'll make sure that won't happen," I murmur. I place my tiny hand on top of his, warming it up and soothingly rubbing my thumb along his knuckles. "You deserve just as much happiness as anyone else."

His fingers tense and twitch. He looks down at our hands, and then back to me, guise unreadable.

"Amy, I—" He hesitates and the air turns stale and rigid. He's watching me, his scarlet eyes burn with an intensive passion that I find mesmerizing; I can't look away, not even for a second. I'm sucked in those eyes, delving and drinking in their depths. I need to rise up for air—oxygen that I need but do not want.

And just when it seems too much, right when I feel like I'm about to burst, he pulls up to the curb in front of my apartment. It began to storm heavily, the rain hammering down like pelts. I jump in my seat when a sudden strike of lightning streak in the sky—resonating a loud, crashing boom that rattles the car.

"—I'll walk you up to your apartment," He intone.

He shrugs out of his jacket and hands it to me, "Here—so you won't get your hair wet. You can drape it over your head."

…I accept without a word. Giving him a smile, I drape his jacket over my quills as he turns the engine off. I inhale a breath and shudder; his jacket smells like his cologne.

He opens his side of the door, steps out, and in quick speed is over at my door, holding it open and prompting me to step out. Like a gentleman, he reaches for my hand and pulls me out, and I grasp his hand tighter than necessary to avoid slipping on the street pavement. The rain is pounding on my backside as Shadow and I hurry to the doors to the apartment complex. Once we reach the doors, Shadow slides in first, holding it open for me. The wind began to pick up speed, swirling loose curls of my hair around in a flurry of pink and I grip the arms of his jacket tighter to save it from the storm's temper tantrum. We rush to the front door to my room and I can't help the giggle that escapes through my throat when I see Shadow's drenched form. He sneers and sniffs, wringing wet in rainwater. A mischievous spark ignites in his irises and he began to shake his dripping, spiky hair in my direction, causing me to squeal and laugh when water sprayed droplets on my face.

I search and search, through old Macy's receipts, bubble gum wrappers, and unopened utility bills in my purse to find my keys. I stab them in the keyhole once I pull them out and step inside. Shadow stalks behind me, I feel the heat coming off from his body, scalding a hole through my shirt and through my skin, sizzling my longing deeper into my pores. I go through the rounds, walking around my apartment, turning on lights, the heater, and the television.

Shadow walks in the living room with slight uncertainty, feeling totally out-of-place, but then feeling totally in place once he finds a spot on the couch and sinks down, shoulders rounded, legs parted, and masculine arms behind the couch. I chuckle to myself at the sheer normalcy I feel when he relaxes on my couch, like he's meant to be here, like he's supposed to be here. On my couch. In my apartment.

I go to my bathroom, grabbing a fresh towel from the rack, but before I leave I take in my appearance in the mirror. I look hectic, hair clinging wildly to my face, eyes too bright, and cheeks too red. Turning on the faucet, I splash some cold water on my face, then comb through the knots and tangles in my hair. Not enough air is reaching to my lungs and I take deep breaths focusing on the sounds of the humming television glowing in the other room, but then I'm fully aware that Shadow is there—possibly waiting for me.

I take one more reassuring breath before reasserting myself to stand up straight and confidently walk out to the living room, dismissing that fact that I was practically hyperventilating in the bathroom.

As I walk in, Shadow's surfing through channels with the remote only occasionally stopping for a second more to decide whether the channel is redeemable to watch, and then flicking to a new one—uninterested.

"You can stay here till the storm calms down," I squeak out, tossing the fresh towel to him.

"Sure, if you don't mind that is," He replies, carefully, hesitantly.

I wave my hand passively in the air, "Oh please Shadow, I don't mind. It's no big deal."

But it is a big deal.

The air around us, electrified, jolts of wanting and negligence charging the electrons and protons in our bodies, uncertain on how to react to each other's energies.

I sink down in the seat next to him on the couch, crossing my legs and picking lint off my gloves, ignoring the sight of him and the smell of him. I can feel him watching, unadulterated fervor practically emanating from his pores. I watch the television, stationed to a nightly talk show, but the sound is mute to deaf ears, and all I can focus on is the sound of his light breathing. My heart is frenzied into palpitations, pounding and rattling my ribcage, which I'm sure he can hear. He shifts his weight on the couch till he is facing me; I turn my head to him and watch his eyes watching mine.

Oh God, he's so serious and passionate. I don't think I can handle much more of his complexity.

I gulp down the spit accumulating in my mouth. He leans in closer but hesitantly, testing the waters. I couldn't ignore the urges to lean in closer too; to experience all he has to offer.

"Sh-Shadow?" My lips worry his name.

"How do you cope with it?" He asks suddenly but his voice is low, rumbling with deep bass that make my nerves jitter. His lips pursed and eyes open, yearning—like a child eager to learn a new lesson, wanting to be filled with knowledge.

I blink, "Cope with what, Shadow?" He wasn't making any sense.

Impatiently, he rounds his head to the ground, trying to search for words. His ruddy eyes scan the carpet before trailing up my body: my feet, thighs, belly, neck, lips, and then my eyes. His eyes are hooded, in a way I would call seductive, and I cross my legs together, smoldering the heat traveling up my body. He sucks in a breath, his chest fur puffing out of his polo in the process, and then blows it out through his nostrils.

"…With the feeling of insecurity."

I tilt my head in disbelief. I'm put off by his choice of words; never thinking a sentence like that would ever leave his mouth.

Shadow?

Insecure?

But I approach earnestly: "Well," I begin.

"It all depends on where the insecurity is emanating from, I guess. It could come from the body, mind, or spirit and at any time. But you can't let weakness deter you from your goals. Instead, see it as a way to learn a little more about yourself, it sinks into that mantra of finding methods to improve ways of personal enhancement and how you view yourself as a genuine person."

I notice how tasteless my speech is; I could be boring him. But he continues to stare, undistracted and intensive. The lighting from the television ghosts over his irises, warm and flaring like a campsite fire.

I smile a bit and continue, "You should know when your insecurities take form, and then you'll be able to handle the feelings once you acknowledge them."

I learned this the hard way, throughout my teenage years, when I was stupid, naïve, and foolish.

He hums in contemplation. He stares down his hands in his lap, flexing his knuckles and fingers, an expression of uncertainty flits across his face. I take his hands in mine, marveling their strong structure. I lock my eyes with his, and his are startled…

Scared.

"If there is anything you need to talk about, you can always come to me. I hope you know that," I murmur with more intensity than necessary.

I want him to understand. He should not be afraid to tell me his feelings. It's—it's just…

"… We've been through so much together; I don't want to lose you again."

"Amy, I'm not going anywhere." His voice is firm but his hands are shivering in mine. He hesitates, "I just needed time." There is a hint of pain in his voice.

I turn his palm over and study the geometric outlines of his hands through the gloves. "I can give you time, Shadow. Just talk to me. Please?"

He nods and pulls his hands away, turning his head toward the television.

Dismissing everything.

Dismissing me.

But I refuse for him to cut this short. Desperately, I touch his cheeks, bringing his face back to me. My heart hammers hard inside my chest, and I can barely contain the words that want to bubble out of me as it cracks and opens and lets so much feeling loose.

"Please—please don't avoid me," I whisper.

"Amy, I won't." He brings his hands to caress my cheeks, and does so lovingly and gingerly, "I promise."

I can taste his breath on my tongue and instinctively, we lean in closer. My eyes widen, absorbing the situation, doubting but for only a second, if this is reality. Everything is muggy and my head spins in a tango. He leans in closer still, never taking his eyes away and his hands still on my face. My eyes are moving in hyper speed, darting over his eyes. And his lips.

And then he presses his lips to mine.

Everything just became so simple, yet so complicated. My body is flushed and I close my eyes to relish this moment. I am aglow with feeling and with sentiment as his warm lips move in unison with mine. I'm woozy and dizzy than any flu I've ever had.

We break away for a moment to catch our breaths, but we quickly come together again, eager to taste each other. There is a warm well of affection bubbling inside me, a feeling that has grown for years, but just sprung forth in a concentrated abundance at this escalated moment. I just can't put my finger on it.

I can feel my heart beating more rapidly, my lungs emptying and filling as if there isn't enough air in the room to fill me. This feeling blossoms inside my chest, heating it up like a hearth. I'm balancing my body and mind, and I almost completely lose it when Shadow runs his hands through the tresses of my hair.

I-I can't handle it. The swelling of my chest, the pounding delirium of my head, the heat of my arousal, everything is spinning out of control. I gasp for breath each time we break away, but I hone in on his mouth again, yearning for more. Our kisses seem never-ending, I quiver and moan when he sucks on my upper lip with a growl. I'm addicted to the taste of him, the feel of him, the smell of him, everything.

Something explodes in my chest, and I can feel it.

Love.

My lips squelch off his bottom lip and I slither my hands down from his face and to his chest. The fingers in my hair grip tighter, pulling me closer and mashing our lips harder. His husky breath fills my mouth in earnest, I want him closer to feel more of his body heat. I am overwhelmed and reeling and I am thankful that my mouth is preoccupied. So I don't yell my feelings out to the high heavens. Because all I can think in my head is that I love him.

I love him.

I love him.

I love him.

I love him more than I can handle. I love listening to his voice in the morning and at night when he calls. I love his beautiful mind, intelligent and cunning, but eager to learn more. I love his eyes, expressive as they are, and deep and intensive. I just simply love him, the evolving innervation welling up inside me for years has finally broke free.

My eyelids flutter. And it feels beautiful.

His hands move down my back as his kisses get hungrier; I'm engulfed in his wanting and I feverishly rub my thighs together. Eagerly, I struggle with the buttons on his shirt, determined to take it off. I pull him down with me on the couch, my ribs squeezing tightly at my chest.

The feeling of me under him must have snapped him back to his senses, because all too soon his kisses stop and he pulls away. Our breathing is labored and my eyes are in chaos, darting everywhere in a disarray.

He sits up and rearranges his shirt. With his eyes hidden from me, he stands.

"I-I'm s-sorry!" I'm nearly panicking and a heart strangling sensation runs down my chest.

His voice is tiny and so unlike him when he replies, "No, I apologize. It's getting late."

I shake my head, releasing all the fuzzy dots from my brain.

In the silence, my heart is seizing. And it's terrible.

I try to break the tension:

"I…I… Shadow, I really—"

I grow quieter with each word I try to conjure up and there is only the sound of our breathing for an agonizing moment, but when he speaks, it cracks my heart.

"I have to go."

"Okay," I say, but all I want to do is desperately beg him to stay.

He walks over to the door and opens it. Before he steps out however he murmurs, "Goodnight, Amy."

I hear the click of the door and he's gone. I speak to the air.

"Goodnight Shadow."

I hang my head in my hands and silently add, "I l-love you."

A/N: Hope you enjoyed. Again, I'll try to update as often as I can. Thank you for your patience.