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ekingston · 7 months

Note

Your reply on ao3 about your wife’s screenshot and being a cheerleader stuck with me, because I’ve realized I don’t actually articulate enough how amazing some writers (read: you) are. I finished the most recent chapter of soup (after eleven-thousand unacceptable distractions), and I was going to plunk together a quick comment that would absolutely not do enough justice to express the genius I find your writing to be. So instead I opened a google doc and started smashing my keyboard which resulted in a pretty long-winded... something, but allow me to fan-girl for like, a second:

The quality and style of your writing floors me every time. There is an effortlessness about it that makes it totally and completely bingeable but also something that gives a little more each time I read it. For me, it’s the most replayable form of literature: I can go back for the plot, for the character rapport, for the punchy dialogue, or for the voice of the narrator. It fits all the moods. It charms me. It amuses me. I want to hug it.

Your work excites me, and when I think of authors and works that excite me, I’m lumping you in with like, Heartburn which is an all-time favorite for that exact reason: I can binge it in a day or go back and sip on it and discover something clever and witty and just impossibly gorgeous in execution.

And speaking as someone who CANNOT for the life of me write something that doesn’t eventually tumble into a vat of angst, I also just adore the way you manage tension without losing the light-hearted reading experience. Holiday wine is a masterpiece, AND I think Soup is almost better because you juggle so much more: the chorus of characters are taking on their own plot lines, the stakes are higher, you add danger and adventure, you weave a more complex, interconnected storyline, and you massage it all beautifully to act as a supporting cast to the core of the story.

Which brings me to the trope (and a complete tangent): miscommunication. Like, ok look… I usually can’t stand it. But that’s mostly because of the execution: the obvious interruptions, the clear misdirection and disregard for natural intuition, the not asking the right questions, the very blatant ham-fisted forcefulness of it just… I can’t.

AND THEN YOU WENT AND MADE A MASTERCLASS OF IT.

You took every complaint you didn’t know I had and put in the work to make it believable. Kara is charmingly oblivious but not for lack of trying. She perfectly talks past Nia and Alex and Lena not just once but every. time. and every time is just so well-conceived and articulated and *gesticulates hands in the air wildly trying to find the right word* gah. The world of her confusion and misguidedness is so believable and commendable and *gesticulates again* gah. This is the absolute genius of the work. I will give kudos till I’m blue in the face about the story as a whole, but I will die on the ‘Easter crushed the miscommunication trope’ hill.

And this is just ONE EXAMPLE of how you knock it out of the park every single time. I could go on about how solidly you write the characters, how charming your prose is, how epic your one-shots are, or how I don’t even care that I can’t trust your chapter count anymore but this is already a run-on and I'm running out of air.

I don’t know how you write, if there is one draft or a million, if you just stream–of-conscious this into existence, or if you summon the words through a ouija board, but it’s brilliant and commendable and THANK YOU for doing what you’re doing.

so. this message is. a miracle? and you are a GIFT. and i’m not going to be able to elaborate much beyond that, because unlike you, i am terrible; at writing attentive notes, at handling compliments, and—hilariously, maybe, since i’ve finally started thinking of myself as a writer again after a decade of self-loathing false starts—at writing down my thoughts in an easily digestible way.

can i say it’s the nicest thing i’ve ever gotten from someone who isn’t (yet?) a close personal friend? that the timing of it was almost implausibly perfect because it arrived in the middle of the deep breathing exercises i was doing after being made aware of some deeply stupid twitter discourse around Soup that was going on right as i was getting ready to post its final chapter?

i think i’ll stick to the important stuff: like THANK YOU. like how your (AMAZING) note completely obliterated the bad stuff and made me excited not just to wrap up this fic, or even to jump into the next, but about doing it all in the first place. that it was a very needed reminder of what an immensely privileged position i’m in to be able to put something out online that brings people (you) enough joy that you want to come tell me about it. and, obviously, that the specific things you chose to highlight are extraordinarily flattering, and i am absolutely not immune to that kind of thing.

i went back and forth on publishing this ask because it feels almost embarrassing, and boastful. but whatever, you know? you made me feel good about my writing again and provided important perspective and ultimately you put thought and effort and overall awesomeness into it and i’m not going to hide that away when you intended it to be shared.

thank you. SO MUCH.

#also i’m totally going to cheat and add:#MISCOMMUNICATION MY BELOVED #if you’d told me a few years back that i was going to write a slapstick-adjacent romantic comedy of errors #i would have died a little inside #i LOATHED drama that only existed because people refused to open their mouths and speak to each other #you don’t know how thrilling it is to hear that you do too & that you think i got it RIGHT 🥳#anyway you. are a hero.#i’m going to be thinking about this one for a while!#ps it’s the ouija board. 100%#ask me things!#eqt-95 #TSOS #YMHW

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generic-sonic-fan · 1 year

Text

My Soul To Keep

Summary: There’s been a close call. Rouge nearly doesn’t make it, leaving Shadow panicky and uncertain. To allay his fears, Team Dark sits down and discusses their plans for the worst case scenario.

3913 words

Rouge comes home from the hospital three days later.

Omega’s carrying her bag, and Shadow is carrying her, helping her limp over to the couch. The baggy shirt she’s wearing covers the bandages criss-crossed over her stomach. He and Omega had spent those three days, before she got home, blaming themselves and each other. Too slow. Distracted. Extraneous variables. Stupid mistake. They’d slinged it all, at this point, gotten it out of their systems so that she didn’t have to hear the pity party.

It doesn’t stop Shadow’s hands from shaking.

“Set me down, riiiiiiiiiiiiiight here.” Rouge groans as she slides onto the couch cushions. “And set my stuff in the bedroom, okay, big boy?”

Omega tromps off down the hall.

“Anything you need?” Shadow asks.

“More of the happy stuff they have at the hospital.”

“You're clear for another dose of painkillers in three hours and twelve minutes. You need water, and food, if you think you can keep it down.”

“Not hungry, but I’m not going to lose my lunch over it. Did you two eat all the twinkies while I was gone?”

“I AM INCAPABLE OF CONSUMING ORGANIC SUBSTANCES.” Omega returns from the hall.

Shadow goes to the kitchen and fills a tall glass of water. He sets this on the end table beside her. He then retrieves a box of saltine crackers from where they've been shoved in the back of the pantry.

“. . . not what twinkie wrappers sound like.” Rouge mumbles from the couch.

He places the saltines beside her as well. “If you want something sweet, I can make you some tea.”

“Too hot. I’m boiling already.”

“Omega, grab an ice tray, then?”

“YOU FORGOT TO SAY THE MAGIC WORD.”

Rouge snorts. She’s trying not to laugh, but her chest shakes anyway, and she cringes as she smiles.

“Please?” Shadow sighs.

Omega goes to the freezer. Shadow opens the tea drawer and retrieves the peach-and-ginger blend. He grabs a mug from the cupboard, fills it with water, then sticks it in the microwave. Three minutes later, the timer dings. Shadow dips the tea bag into the just-boiling water and waits. Omega returns with the ice tray and starts fishing the cubes into a water bottle. The tea bag is removed, sugar added, and the concoction poured over the ice, sealed over with a lid and straw. Shadow delivers it into Rouge’s waiting hands.

“You’re too good for me.” She murmurs.

“CORRECT. I AM.” Omega touts from the kitchen.

“Stop making her laugh.” Shadow says.

It’s too late, of course. She’s already giggling between pained gasps.

“SHE WILL BE ALRIGHT. IF LAUGHTER COULD KILL, I WOULD ALREADY BE A COMEDIAN.”

“You’re enough of a clown for it.” Rouge says.

Now Shadow’s laughing, too, despite himself. Rouge takes a big sip of her tea, letting out a faint “Mmmm” as she sucks it down the straw. She then reaches the cup over to the end table. Her hand slips, the cup falls.

She jerks forward to try and catch it and now there’s little dots of red poking through her oversized shirt.

Shadow grabs her shoulders and pushes her back against the couch cushions. He holds her down, rips her shirt open, and feels along the bandages. His fingers grow damp. He presses a firm palm down. She cries out.

“Stay still!” He screams back.

His damn hand won’t stop shaking. She’s bleeding and he can’t stop shaking and it’s not helping and he needs to do better he needs to be better he needs to STOP SHAKING-

The world around slows. Breathe, in and out. Stop the bleeding. Apologize. Check the IV. Find a doctor onboard to rebind her wounds.

“I’m sorry.” Shadow chokes out. “The pressure will stop the bleeding-”

“THE BLEEDING HAS CEASED. STOP APPLYING PRESSURE.”

Shadow lifts his palm. He checks her own. There’s no IV line. There’s. . .

“SLOW YOUR BREATHING. IT IS ADVISABLE THAT YOU EXCUSE YOURSELF TO YOUR ROOM TO CALM DOWN. I WILL ATTEND TO ROUGE. MY KNOWLEDGE OF DESTROYING MEATBAG ANATOMY ALSO LENDS WELL ENOUGH TO MAINTAINING IT.”

A hand on his shoulder.

“SHE WILL BE ALRIGHT. GO.”

He stands. The world sways. His pulse is roaring in his ears and energy crackles at his fingertips. He focuses it without needing to utter the words, and with a resounding crack he’s back in his room. He falls onto the bed, curls himself under the weighted blanket, and lets the burning tears finally fall out of his eyes.

After some amount of time shaking and sobbing like the pathetic coward he is, he sticks his head out of the blanket and listens. Omega is saying something he can’t make out. Then, Rouge’s voice, just barely audible. The walls shake with Omega’s footsteps coming down the hall. Shadow untangles himself from the blanket and sets his feet against the ground.

“ROUGE HAS INSTRUCTED ME TO ‘CHECK IN’ ON YOUR EMOTIONAL STATE.” Omega opens the door.

“How is she?”

“AS I HAVE SAID PRIOR: SHE IS ALRIGHT.”

Of course she is. Of fucking course she is. Just a tiny bit of blood and he lost his goddamn mind about it. He grabs at his quills, pulling them just hard enough to hurt.

“WHAT IS YOUR STATUS?”

“I’m fine.”

“ROUGE SHOWED ME A MEME SHE FOUND ‘RELATABLE’ ON HER INSTAGRAM FEED TWO MONTHS AND SIX DAYS AGO. THE MEME STATED THAT ‘FINE’ STOOD FOR ‘FREAKED OUT, INSECURE, NEUROTIC, AND EMOTIONAL’. UNDER THIS DEFINITION, YOU ARE INDEED ‘FINE’.”

“Shut up! Leave me alone!”

“NOTED.”

Omega leaves. Shadow’s tempted to tear his quills all the way out, but that would leave him with a migraine, and he can’t be where he’s needed if he can hardly stand. Not that he’s much help to anyone. Not like he’d do anything other than flip out at the slightest provocation. Might as well start screaming her name around to complete the look, right?

He immediately catches that thought and curls in on himself. He whispers an apology against his fur, lips forming the shape of the name. Lips part. Teeth come together. Mouth opens, ending on the “ah”. He’s sorry he even thought to take her name in vain. She doesn't deserve it.

She didn’t deserve any of it. Neither does Rouge. He knows he’s projecting; Rouge hates it when he does that. She doesn’t say anything but he knows she hates it.

“ROUGE IS REQUESTING TO SEE YOU.”

Omega stands in the doorway again. Shadow slides off the bed. They return to the living room.

“I’m sorry.” He says the moment his eyes hit the couch.

“It’s okay.” Rouge replies. She’s wearing a different t-shirt now. The old one is bunched on the coffee table. It smells of ginger and peach.

“I’ll do better next time.”

“Well, gee, it’s almost like your best friend could’ve died. I’d be more offended if this didn’t happen at some point.”

He’d been hoping this wouldn’t happen at all, but he doesn’t tell her that. The less therapy she has to give while she herself should be the one getting taken care of, the better.

“IT IS ONLY LOGICAL FOR YOUR MEATBAG BRAIN TO BE EXPERIENCING HIGH LEVELS OF STRESS IN THIS SCENARIO.”

“Not helping, Omega.” Rouge says.

“I AM FORTUNATE TO NOT EXPERIENCE SUCH STRESS. HOWEVER, IN THE DAYS PRECEDING TO NOW, MY RAGE LEVELS HAVE BEEN HEIGHTENED TO THE POINT OF MY PROCESSOR EXPERIENCING OVERHEAT WARNINGS.”

“I know. You yelled at me plenty about it.” Shadow replies.

“I RAGE. I RAGE AT THE MAN WHO IS RESPONSIBLE FOR THIS INJURY.” Omega slams his fists together. “I SHALL RIP HIM INTO 1,684 TINY LITTLE PIECES UPON OUR NEXT ENCOUNTER.”

“You sure will.” Rouge murmurs.

“AND YOU, SHADOW?”

“I’m going to start taking solo missions. Permanently”

“Don’t you dare.”

“DON’T YOU DARE.”

“You only have so much time. I’m not going to have that taken away from you.”

“FALSE. I AM A ROBOT. MY LIFESPAN IS THEORETICALLY AS INFINITE AS YOURS-”

“Shut your trap, both of you!” Rouge says. “It doesn’t matter who’s immortal and bulletproof and ‘Ultimate’ or whatever. You two aren’t so invincible either. You’re not leaving me behind.”

“I’m not-!” Shadow stops himself. “Please, Rouge.”

She closes her eyes and takes a deep breath, cringing as her chest falls up and down. She shakes her head. “I get it. I know why you’re on about this so much. But I don’t know what to say other than that you can’t stop me.”

A pause. Projecting, again. He grits his teeth. He doesn't say anything.

“I’m going to get hurt. Hell, I’m going to die someday. You’re gonna have to get over that because I’m not about to stop living my life over it.”

“I know.”

“YOU KNOW THE VAGUE CONCEPT, IN THEORY. IT MAY HELP IF WE DISCUSS MORE CONCRETE DETAILS.”

“What do you mean?” Rouge asks.

“ROUGE, WHAT SHALL WE DO IN THE EVENT OF YOUR DEATH?”

Rouge’s eyes flick once over Shadow’s face, before puzzling in the direction of Omega. “As in, funerals, and the like?”

“CORRECT. THROUGH MY RESEARCH INTO THE DEATH AND DESTRUCTION OF MEATBAGS, I HAVE DISCOVERED THAT THERE ARE MANY WAYS TO TEND TO A BODY. SOME ARE MORE RITUALISTIC THAN OTHERS.”

“We can talk about this later.” Rouge glances back to Shadow.

She’s begging Omega, with her eyes, to notice what she imagines are eggshells, a covert intention made obvious by her pain and fatigue. It stings a little to think that she’s so concerned with setting him off again.

“Actually,” Shadow finds a spot on the floor and sits down. “I would like to know now.”

“You sure?”

“Maria and I talked about this sometimes.” The name is still heavy in his mouth, and leaves a bitter aftertaste, but he says it with as much normality as he can muster.

“BECAUSE OF HER TERMINAL DIAGNOSIS, CORRECT?”

Shadow nods.

“Makes sense.” Rouge says.

“So. . . what do you want me to do when you are gone?” Shadow asks.

“You’re being a little presumptuous there, hun. I’m not the only one who can catch bullets. Or burn up upon re-entry, as the case may be for some of us.”

“HA. HA. HA.” Omega vibrates up and down.

“I’m being serious! Tell me- what do you want me to do?”

“Guess I should get around to penning a will, shouldn’t I? I’m not letting my collection go to just anyone.”

“I WOULD REQUEST CUSTODY OF YOUR EXTENSIVE GEMSTONE COLLECTION.”

“Why?”

“TO SELL AND PURCHASE MORE WEAPONS WITH.”

“My point exactly.” Rouge rolls her eyes. “But besides that. . . well, I’m not going to lie, I actually have thought about this a fair amount. Shadow, Omega, I’m reserving my place on your fireplace mantle.”

“We don’t have a fireplace?”

“Not yet, silly. In the future, when you’re both rich and famous and have a house with one. I want the spot right and center. My Nan had her urn on Mama’s fireplace, but she got shoved behind pictures of the family dog. If you do that to me, I’m coming back to haunt your asses.”

“Are you sure you want your ashes kept in one place?”

“Well, someone has to keep an eye on you two.”

“TO ENSURE THAT I DO NOT SELL YOUR EXTENSIVE GEM COLLECTION?”

“Not just that. But to make sure you’re doing okay, you know? And so that you have something to look at and remember me by.”

“MY MEMORY BANKS, UNLIKE YOUR FEEBLE ORGANIC BRAINS, DO NOT REQUIRE SUCH JOGGING. HOWEVER. . . I UNDERSTAND THE INTENDED SENTIMENT. SURROUNDING ONESELF WITH OBJECTS THAT ARE PLEASING IS A DESIRABLE OBJECTIVE.”

“'Pleasing'? Oh please, it’s going to be absolutely lavish. I’ll put that in the will- I want my urn to be absolutely encrusted with my gems. I want to be more valuable than the Mona Lisa by the time I’m finished.”

“People will be looking to steal you, then.” Shadow says

“Which is why I picked the two most lethal people on the planet to keep me!” Rouge throws her head back as best she can, despite already having her head resting on the arm of the couch, and winks.

“REST ASSURED, ROUGE. NOT A SINGLE FINGER WILL BE LAID UPON YOUR URN FOR AS LONG AS I FUNCTION. THIS I SWEAR.” Omega pounds a fist against his chest.

“You two will be old fogies by that point anyway. You’ll need something to keep you on your toes.” She smiles.

“Thank you.” Shadow says. “For trusting us with this.”

“Of course. Who else could I possibly pick?”

Shadow reaches for her hand. She sees this and dangles it off the couch cushion for him to hold. He grasps her wrist, first, feeling the pulse beating inside of it. Then he slides between her fingers and presses their palms together.

“Okay, I’m done. What about you, Omega?” Rouge looks over.

“I DO NOT UNDERSTAND.”

“We just went over what happens when I kick the bucket- what about you?”

“BOLD OF YOU TO ASSUME I WILL PERISH.”

“It’s a contingency.” Shadow clarifies. “Take this seriously. What would you like us to do?”

“A MORE IMPORTANT CONSIDERATION IS WHEN YOU SHOULD DECLARE ME ‘DECEASED’. I AM INORGANIC. I CAN ALWAYS BE REPAIRED.”

“And?” Rouge prods.

“. . . I WISH TO REMAIN MYSELF.” Omega eventually says. “IN THE EVENT OF PROGRAM CORRUPTION OF OVER 65%, I DESIRE TO BE DEACTIVATED.”

“What, and the other 35% is somehow not worth our time?” Shadow snaps, harder than he means to. “Are you not worth getting to know again?”

“YOU CONFLATE THE CORRUPTION OF MY PROGRAMMING WITH THE LOSS OF YOUR MEMORIES. THOUGH MY KNOWLEDGE OF ORGANIC AMNESIA IS ADMITTEDLY QUITE PRIMITIVE, I CAN ASSURE YOU THE TWO ARE DIFFERENT.”

“Are they?”

“65% IS A SIGNIFICANT PORTION OF FUNCTIONALITY LOST, A HIGHER MARGIN THAN I WOULD HAVE ALLOWED EVEN A FEW MONTHS AGO. IT IS DOUBTFUL, AFTER CROSSING THAT MARGIN, THAT I WILL EVER BE FUNCTIONAL AGAIN WITHOUT SIGNIFICANT REWRITES. ANY ‘REPAIRS’ GIVEN WILL BE GENERATING PROCESSES THAT HAVE NEVER EXISTED. YOU WILL BE CREATING SOMETHING NEW. I DO NOT WISH FOR A NEW PROGRAM TO USE MY FORM. I WISH TO BE DEACTIVATED.”

“It would be like. . . someone putting fake memories in your head.” Shadow whispers. Rouge’s hand grips tighter around his.

“CORRECT. DO YOU REQUIRE ANY FURTHER CLARIFICATION?”

Shadow shakes his head.

“GOOD. MOVING ON, UPON DEACTIVATION, I DESIRE FOR MY BODY TO BE MELTED DOWN AND MY ALLOY USED TO CONSTRUCT LETHAL WEAPONS.”

“Fitting.” Rouge smiles.

“I HAVE CALCULATED THAT I WILL HAVE ENOUGH SUITABLE MATERIAL TO MAKE TWO ROCKET LAUNCHERS, SIX RIFLES, AND APPROXIMATELY EIGHT PISTOLS.”

“Any preference in caliber?” Shadow asks.

“THE MORE DESTRUCTIVE, THE BETTER.”

“I’ll ensure there’s a 50. cal somewhere in there.”

“YOU- AND ROUGE, IF APPLICABLE -WILL HAVE FIRST CHOICE OF WHAT IS PRODUCED.”

“Thank you. I appreciate it.” Shadow says.

“ONE MORE RULE.”

“Go for it. Shoot.” Rouge says.

“YOU MAY ONLY USE THESE WEAPONS IF YOU MEAN IT. YOU MAY ONLY KILL, INJURE, OR DESTROY WITH THESE WEAPONS. TARGET DUMMIES DO NOT COUNT.” Omega crosses his arms.

“May I take them out to the target range to practice with them as long as I utilize them on a proper mission soon after?” Shadow says.

“I SUPPOSE THAT IS ACCEPTABLE.”

“How about for home defense?” Rouge asks. “You don’t mind if you hang from a wall most of the time, do you?”

“ALSO ACCEPTABLE. DETERRENCE COUNTS AS PROPER USE.”

“Good. Thanks, big boy. That’s a really great plan. You’ve thought about this a lot too, huh?” She says. “Glad I’m not the only one. I felt a little weird about it.”

“IT IS NOW SHADOW’S TURN TO DISCUSS HIS PLAN FOR AFTER HIS DEATH.”

“There’s no point. You two aren’t going to have to worry about it.”

“Given that you’re the only one of us who’s had a funeral already, I call bullshit.” Rouge replies.

She’s referencing the strange little event that Sonic held with all of his friends after the ARK. She’d gone. Said a few words, though she never told him what they were. What could you possibly have to say about a person that had spent only a few hours being on good terms with you? Sonic had found things to say too, apparently. Perhaps the guilt made it easy.

“I know what I want, and that’s to stay alive so that you two never have to worry about it.” Shadow replies.

“IT’S A CONTINGENCY.” Omega steps closer. “TAKE THIS SERIOUSLY.”

Shadow looks down. He lets go of Rouge’s hand. He folds his hands in his lap. He notices, upon further studying, a bit of red on his fur where there shouldn’t be. He hadn’t even washed his hands after dealing with Rouge’s wound.

“I haven’t thought about it much.” He says.

“Okay, do you know what you don’t want, at least?”

An urn, he almost says. The idea of being confined to one place for all eternity, lingering, haunting, is. . .

“Not sure.” He replies.

“Graveyard? Cremation? Something weird and different? Don’t tell me you’re going to donate to science.”

“Absolutely not!” His quills flare.

“NOTED. I WILL NOT PERMIT ANY SCIENTISTS TO STUDY YOUR CORPSE.”

. . . Maria’s body had been studied, according to the records, then her existence sterilized like the rest of the ARK had been. Shadow knows, consciously, that the drop pod room is empty, but without having seen what had happened after, it is difficult to believe she isn’t still laying there.

“Cremation.” He finally says. “I want my body destroyed.”

“So who’s shelf are you sitting on?”

“No one’s.”

“Scattered, then? Any particular location?”

He pauses. “Mount Everest.”

“Huh. Interesting. Is it okay if it’s, like, at the bottom? Or do we have to go all the way to the tippy-top?” Rouge asks.

“The top. Spread to the winds.”

“Making me work real hard for this.”

“I WILL DO IT. I AM A ROBOT; I DO NOT REQUIRE OXYGEN NOR DO I EXPERIENCE FATIGUE.”

“Thanks,” Shadow says.

“Why there?” Rouge asks.

“To make it inconvenient for you.”

Rouge rolls her eyes. “Sure.”

“And. . . do it at night. Under the stars.” He adds.

“YOU HAVE SELECTED THE HIGHEST POINT ON THIS PLANET. YOU THEN FURTHER REQUEST TO BE SCATTERED UNDER STARS. ARE YOU SURE YOU DO NOT WANT YOUR REMAINS TO BE EJECTED INTO SPACE? DO NOT LIMIT YOURSELF. SUCH AN ARRANGEMENT IS FEASIBLE. I WILL MAKE IT SO.”

“No! That wasn’t the promise.”

It’s only when the silence sweeps over the room that he realizes what he’s said.

“. . . wish she’d picked a shorter mountain.” Rouge says.

“We always tried to spot it from the observation deck whenever we passed over.” Shadow lets a hint of a smile cross his lips.

“CLARIFICATION REQUESTED: YOU ARE REFERRING TO MARIA, CORRECT?”

Shadow nods.

“ARE YOU REQUESTING THIS AFTER-DEATH RITUAL BECAUSE IT IS WHAT YOU TRULY WISH, OR BECAUSE IT IS SOMETHING SHE WISHED FOR HERSELF?”

His smile disappears.

“Omega.” Rouge hisses.

“SHADOW HAS EXPRESSED TO US THAT HE DOES NOT WANT TO LET HIMSELF BE DEFINED BY THE PAST. I AM ONLY AIDING IN THE PURSUIT OF THIS OBJECTIVE.” Omega speaks to her, but turns to him, staring him down.

“It’s both.” He finally responds.

“INFORM US OF YOUR SIDE, THEN.”

“It’s that. . . I don’t want to be trapped somewhere.” He says. “No offense, Rouge.”

“None taken. Guess you’ve spent long enough in a jar already, being lusted after by powerful men. I get it. No biggie.” Rouge winks.

Shadow glares, but he can’t hold it for long before a snicker slips out. “That’s the worst way you could’ve put it.”

“FALSE. THERE ARE WORSE WAYS. FOR EXAMPLE-”

“No thanks, we’re good!” Rouge says.

Omega tilts his torso downwards and lets out a long-winded negative ping. Rouge laughs and manages to keep a grin on through the pain.

“Stop making her laugh!"

“S-starting to agree with Shadow on this one.” Rouge slips out between giggles. “Ouch.”

“You should get some rest.” Shadow stands up from his spot on the ground. “It’ll help you feel better.”

“When’s the next round of pills?”

Shadow looks at the clock. It takes him too long to do the math, but he gets it eventually. “One hour, forty-one minutes.”

“Ughhhhhhhhhh.”

“ARE WE FINISHED WITH OUR PRIOR CONVERSATION?” Omega tilts back upright.

Rouge glances between the two of them.

“SHADOW, ARE YOU NO LONGER ‘FINE’?”

“Huh?” Rouge asks.

“‘FINE’, AS IN THE ACRONYM THAT STANDS FOR-”

“Yes, I am feeling better.”

“LIKE IT OR NOT, YOUR FEEBLE MEATBAG BRAIN IS BETTER EQUIPPED TO HANDLE CONCRETE DETAILS THAN VAGUE CONCEPTS. ILLUMINATING THIS SUBJECT HAS ALLOWED YOU TO PROCESS IT MORE EFFECTIVELY.”

“How do you know so much about my ‘meatbag brain’, anyway?” Shadow asks.

“I RESEARCH ORGANIC PSYCHOLOGY, SPECIFICALLY THE STRESS RESPONSE, TO BETTER DISABLE THE WRETCHED DOCTOR EGGMAN WITH. IT IS. . . COINCIDENTAL THAT THIS KNOWLEDGE IS USEFUL FOR OTHER SCENARIOS.”

“Mhm. Sure, hun.” Rouge says. “But thanks.”

“Thank you, Omega.” Shadow concurs.

“YOU ARE WELCOME.” Omega steps back. He looks around the room, before his optics settle on Rouge. “DO YOU REQUIRE ANYTHING?”

“I’ll look after her.” Shadow says.

“GOOD. I AM GOING TO GO PLAY VIOLENT VIDEO GAMES NOW.”

Omega tromps down the hall and shuts the door of his room. His “shut” is a normal person’s “slam”, but given that the door’s still on its hinges, Shadow knows he’s alright.

He looks back down at Rouge. “Is there anything you’d like?”

“More tea?”

“Hot or iced?”

“We have any ice cubes left?”

Shadow returns to the kitchen. He grabs the mug, fills it with water, and sets the microwave going. He grabs the tea bag. His eyes catch on the ice tray sitting on the counter. All the slots are filled with water now.

“I’ll run to the store. Be back before the microwave timer goes off.”

“Yeah, fuck cashiers! Steal things!” She cheers.

He makes for the door. Soon he’s skating down the streets, whizzing past cars as he scans for a generic corporate superstore. A lucky break, for once- as he comes upon a Walmart, someone’s holding the automatic doors open. He skids inside, yanks open the freezer door, grabs a bag of ice, then reverses course.

When he steps back inside the apartment, the microwave dings.

“Just in time. Got worried you actually decided to pay for it for a moment.” Rouge leans out from the couch.

“If you fall off, I’m not catching you.” He sets the bag of ice on the counter.

“Sure you won’t.”

He goes to the microwave, opens it, and puts the tea bag in. Then he opens the bag of ice and fills the water bottle. He puts the rest of the bag in the fridge- he has to really shove it in there to get the door closed.

He returns, a few minutes later, to the couch with tea in hand, and passes it to her. He makes sure her fingers are looped through the handle of the cup before he lets go. She holds it. Sips it for a while. She hands it back to him. He places it on the end table.

“Want some television?” He asks.

She nods. He grabs the remote from the television stand and powers everything on. As he hands the remote to her, Rouge reaches for his other hand.

“Hey,” She whispers as she curls her fingers over his.

She doesn’t say anything more. She doesn’t need to.

#team dark #shadow the hedgehog #rouge the bat #e123 omega #fanfiction #sth #tw panic attack #tw self loathing #Shadow is not the most reliable narrator in this one because the self-loathing is THAT strong #this one's got a more experimental narration style than I usually try #something more immediate and emotionally intimate I hope #tag this as a ship and omega will come to your house and tear you into 1684 tiny little pieces #and don't worry my beloved omega fans!! omega is a big part of this fic!! equal screentime justice for our guy!!#<- said as someone who's been disappointed by team dark fics before that barely mention him #they are ALL family here #please do enjoy!!#e-123 omega

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