Chapter Text
The city didn’t stop. Not for Shadow, not for Sonic, not for the thunder of footsteps or the tremble in his chest.
They were running.
Shoes slapped pavement as they weaved through the crowd. Neon signs reflected in puddles, casting blue and pink over their fur as they dashed around people, across crosswalks, beneath rusted scaffolding and under the sharp shadows of skyscrapers. Shadow didn’t know where they were going. He didn’t ask.
Because Sonic was holding his hand.
The city was blistering around them—honks and shouts and street music spilling like electricity—but all Shadow could hear was the way Sonic’s grip stayed firm, solid, and without question. He held his hand like it was the most natural thing in the world. Like it had always been his to hold.
And Shadow didn’t pull away.
The white gloves they wore masked the warmth, the bare touch of skin he’d surely recoil from. But even then, it was something. It was pressure, connection, presence. Not dragging. Not forcing.
Leading.
They’d passed a newsstand, a steaming halal cart, and a massive LED ad for sunglasses. Shadow had stopped paying attention. Not to the city. Not to the path. Only to the sound of their footsteps, and the ghost of a voice that wasn’t real.
Maria…
That girl—Mary. It wasn’t her. Of course it wasn’t her. Maria was dead. She had died in his arms, and no face—no matter how similar—could change that. But her voice. Her smile. Her eyes. It had been so close.
Sonic tightened his grip slightly to yank them around a corner.
Shadow stumbled mid-step.
Shadow didn’t even notice it.
He was still underwater.
Still drowning in memory.
His mind was miles away.
He didn’t even register when Sonic came to a full, sudden stop in front of him—until it was almost too late. Shadow jolted, nearly colliding with him, their bodies brushing together for half a heartbeat.
“Wha—what the hell are you doing?” Shadow snapped, straightening.
Sonic still held his hand. His chest rose and fell with shallow, hurried breaths. His ears twitched slightly.
“I… I just wanted to make sure you’re okay,” Sonic said, turning toward him. His eyes were serious, deeper than Shadow remembered. “You’ve been quiet this whole time.”
“I’m always quiet.”
Sonic gave a half-laugh, half-sigh and looked down at their hands—still locked together, fingers curled between white gloves. “Yeah, but not like this. Not like... you’re somewhere else.”
Shadow finally yanked his hand away.
The air between them snapped.
“I said I’m fine,” he muttered, voice tight.
Sonic flinched but didn’t argue. Instead, he rubbed the back of his neck, eyes shifting uneasily toward the edge of the block where the train station flickered into view, lit in red neon. “Look, I… I don’t know what’s going on with you. I don’t know if I did something or said something, or if it’s just that weird girl—”
Shadow’s fists clenched. “It’s not about the girl.”
“Then what is it?” Sonic burst, his voice suddenly cracking open. “Because you saw her and you just—changed, man. You shut down. I—I mean, I’m not trying to pry but it’s just…”
Sonic looked down again. He took a step closer.
“I care about you, Shadow.”
The words hit like a weight. Shadow’s throat tightened.
Sonic’s eyes flicked up again. “I know you don’t like talking. I know you get weird when stuff gets emotional. But I’m trying here. Okay? I’m trying. And you just keep shutting me out.”
Shadow said nothing. His arms crossed tight over his chest like a shield.
Sonic glanced away and added, softer, “You were holding my hand.”
Shadow’s eyes narrowed. “You were the one dragging me.”
“Y-yeah, but you didn’t pull away… not at first…”
Shadow scoffed and turned his head. “What difference does that make?”
Sonic shifted on his feet. “I don’t know, maybe it doesn’t. Maybe I just wanted it to mean something. Or maybe I just thought—for a second—that we were past all this ‘tough guy, I-don’t-talk-about-feelings’ stuff.”
“You thought wrong.”
The words stung more than Shadow expected them to. And he hated how Sonic’s ears folded slightly at that, how he looked like he’d just been hit square in the chest.
But Sonic didn’t get angry. He didn’t raise his voice. He took another small step forward and tried again.
“Shadow, please. You don’t have to tell me everything, but… just something. Just so I don’t feel like I’m running next to a ghost.”
Shadow stared at the sidewalk, jaw tense. He could still see her—Maria—no, Mary. Her soft smile. Her voice. The way time had stopped for him and not for anyone else.
She looked just like her.
But she wasn’t her.
And that was the part that gutted him.
“I…” he started, but his voice cracked. He closed his mouth and turned away, grinding his teeth. “It doesn’t matter.”
“It does matter,” Sonic insisted. “Shadow, I saw your face. When you said her name.”
Shadow froze.
Sonic hesitated. “You said ‘Maria.’”
That word alone made the air feel like it had thinned out. Like the weight in Shadow’s chest had doubled.
Shadow’s arms dropped slightly from his chest, but he didn’t turn around. He couldn’t.
“I didn’t mean to,” he muttered. “It just… slipped.”
Sonic didn’t push again. Instead, he said, with something far more gentle than Shadow expected, “Do you want to tell me about her?”
There was silence.
Then—
“No.”
It came out sharper than it should’ve. Not because he didn’t want to. But because he couldn’t.
Sonic’s shoulders dropped a little, and he nodded. He stepped beside him, not too close, but close enough. “Okay,” he said softly. “Okay. I get it.”
A train horn wailed in the distance. Sonic’s ears perked up.
“Oh shoot!” he exclaimed, and without another second wasted, he grabbed Shadow’s hand again.
“Wait—Sonic—”
“We’ll miss it!” Sonic shouted, and just like that, they were running again.
Through crowds. Past honking taxis. Across the last crosswalk, where the red hand was flashing. Shadow couldn’t even find the words fast enough before Sonic was dragging him down the station stairs.
Their hands were locked again.
Still through the gloves, but it felt like more this time.
Like Sonic wanted to hold his hand. Not out of necessity or speed, but something quieter. Something more like comfort.
Shadow didn’t say anything. He didn’t pull away.
They were too late.
Not for the train—no, it hadn’t left yet. It was still sitting like a long silver serpent along the platform, humming with electricity, lights blinking in and out as passengers filed on with tickets in hand, scanned and smiling, wearing luggage like armor. The doors hissed open, welcoming the humans and their bags. But not them.
Not the two aliens.
“Tickets,” a gruff voice barked from the terminal gate ahead.
Sonic pulled Shadow back by the arm, jerking them behind a concrete column before the agent could see them. Shadow tensed immediately, his voice low and sharp. “What are you—?”
“They’re checking tickets,” Sonic muttered, peeking around the pillar. “We can’t go in that way.”
Shadow raised an eyebrow. “You dragged me halfway across the city just to get stopped at the gate?”
“No,” Sonic said confidently, puffing out his chest. “I have a backup plan.”
Shadow narrowed his eyes. “And that is?”
Sonic grinned. “We go up.”
They scaled the train station wall like it was nothing. Up the support beams, slipping past flickering security cameras, and hauling themselves along metal ladders slick with city grime and rainwater. The wind up top was biting, but they were used to worse. Bare fur ruffled beneath the open night as they perched on the edge of the station rooftop, looking down at the long stretch of train beneath them.
Shadow’s face was unreadable. Sonic’s heart was pounding—not from fear, but adrenaline.
“Alright,” Sonic said, eyeing the closest gap between rooftop and train. “Ready?”
“This is idiotic.”
“I’ll take that as a yes.”
And with that, Sonic leapt.
He landed with a soft thud on top of one of the train’s central cars, knees bending to absorb the impact. He turned back just in time to see Shadow follow, silent and graceful like always, his expression taut with annoyance.
The train beneath them was still idling. For now.
Sonic sat down and patted the cool metal beside him. “C’mon. Might be a while before it moves.”
Shadow sat, stiff and reluctant, legs crossed like he didn’t trust the surface. He looked out across the rails, watching the endless stretch of tracks disappear into the dark.
Beyond the station, the city buzzed like a living organism. Lights in motion. Sirens in the distance. And above, stars that barely pierced the haze.
Shadow exhaled slowly. The wind tugged at his quills. “Where is this train going?”
Sonic glanced at him, unsure how to phrase it. Then he smiled sheepishly. “I… don’t actually know.”
Shadow turned his head, slow as stone. “You what?”
“I said,” Sonic repeated, voice a little more careful, “I don’t know. Not exactly.”
Shadow’s expression soured like spoiled fruit. “You dragged me onto the roof of a random train… and you don’t know where it’s going?”
“Well—hold on,” Sonic said, lifting a finger. “I did say I had a plan.”
“That’s not a plan. That’s wishful thinking and poor navigation.”
“Oh come on, give me some credit!” Sonic dug into his quills and pulled out a slightly crumpled, very much borrowed map of the Amtrak national train routes. “Look,” he said, unfolding it on the metal surface between them. “I grabbed this earlier when you were sulking about that girl. It shows all the cross-country trains. This one’s heading west. See these dots?” He tapped a red line dotted with stars. “These are all the stops.”
Shadow leaned in reluctantly, eyes scanning the path. “So… we pick a state, hop off, and make our way to Montana.”
“Exactly.”
“You’re not even sure this is the right line.”
“It’s close enough,” Sonic said, shrugging. “And besides… we don’t have a lot of options right now.”
Shadow stared at the map in silence for a moment. Then he leaned back, folding his arms behind his head, and muttered, “You suck at plans.”
Sonic grinned, not even slightly offended. “Yeah? Well, I have a plan. You got anything better?”
Shadow scowled but didn’t answer.
Because no, he didn’t.
And yeah… this plan sucked.
But it was still better than wandering around New York, getting mistaken for mascots and ghosts of the past.
The train gave a deep, low rumble beneath them.
The metal vibrated softly under their feet.
Then it moved.
The platform slid away behind them. The lights of the station grew smaller. The city began to fade in a whirl of orange and gold. And just like that, the train slipped into the night, cutting a silver line through the sprawl of New York, heading somewhere—anywhere—west.
Sonic leaned into the wind, smiling. “There we go. Next stop… wherever.”
Shadow didn’t answer. He watched the city disappear.
He didn’t want to admit it—but he was glad they were leaving. New York had suffocated him. And that girl… her face had followed him like a ghost. Still did. Still would.
Sonic watched him from the corner of his eye. His smile faded just a little.
“Hey…” Sonic said, voice quieter now. “You really okay?”
Shadow didn’t respond at first. The wind blew between them, pulling at their fur.
“I’m tired,” he said finally. His voice wasn’t sharp or defensive this time. Just… tired.
“Yeah,” Sonic murmured. “Me too.”
They lapsed into silence again. The city was miles behind now. They passed trees. Empty roads. Brief flashes of highway lights. The train rushed forward into the unknown.
And maybe, for a moment, that was enough.
After a while, Sonic looked down at the map again, the paper fluttering slightly between them. He tapped a spot in the Midwest. “This one’s kinda cool. It’s near a river. No cities for like, miles.”
“Are you picking spots based on vibes?”
“Uh, yes?” Sonic chuckled. “How else do you choose where to start over?”
Shadow shook his head slowly. “You really suck at plans.”
“You said that already,” Sonic smirked.
“It was worth repeating.”
Sonic smiled at the insult, because from Shadow, that was basically affection. Then he shifted a little closer, letting their arms brush.
Still gloved. Still subtle.
But it was contact.
And Shadow didn’t move away.
Sonic dared to look at him again, more fully this time. “Hey… I don’t know who she was. That girl. But if you ever wanna talk—”
“I don’t.”
Sonic hesitated, then nodded. “Okay.”
Another gust of wind swept across them. Cold. Clean. Lonely.
Sonic reached down again, hesitating just a moment, then placed his hand back on the roof between them. Open. Palm up.
No pressure.
Just the same invitation.
Shadow stared at it. His throat tightened again. That same ache in his chest—familiar and unfamiliar all at once—rose again.
He didn’t take the hand.
But after a long, quiet moment… his fingers inched closer.
Not enough to touch.
But enough to feel the warmth again. Even through the gloves.
The night stretched on.
The train had long left New York behind, carving its way through fields, towns, empty highways, and moonlit forests. The stars above glittered in specks through shifting clouds, and the air had turned colder now—sharp enough to prickle against fur.
It had been hours since they’d climbed on top of the train.
And for the last thirty-seven minutes—not that Sonic was counting—Shadow hadn’t said a word.
Sonic sat with his arms draped loosely over his knees, legs kicked out, feet tapping lightly on the train’s metal roof. The vibration of the tracks hummed beneath them, steady and relentless. They passed another stretch of dark forest. Another lonely town blinked by in the distance, too far to make out the name.
The landscape had started to look the same. Or maybe Sonic was just bored.
This was supposed to be fun, he thought with a sigh.
He shifted his weight and peeked at Shadow, who sat like a statue with his arms crossed and his eyes locked forward, unblinking. Stoic as ever. Like the perfect portrait of brooding silence.
Sonic leaned over a little and joked.
“You think we’re in California yet?”
Shadow didn’t move. “No.”
Sonic blinked. “Are you guessing?”
“No.”
“…Do you know where we are?”
“No.”
Sonic squinted. “Wait—so you don’t know?”
“I didn’t say that.”
“You just said no three times in a row.”
Shadow turned his head, finally meeting Sonic’s gaze with a flat stare. “You’re the one who lost track.”
Sonic groaned and flopped back onto the roof of the train, arms sprawled beside him. “Man, you are no fun.”
“I’m not here to have fun.”
“Well I thought this would be fun,” Sonic muttered, staring up at the stars. “You know… road trip. Running from the law. Sneaking on a train. Sleeping under the stars. Bonding time.”
He glanced over and gave a hopeful grin. “Y’know, classic outlaw duo stuff.”
Shadow didn’t even blink. “This isn’t a movie, Sonic.”
Sonic pouted. “Could’ve fooled me.”
He sat up again, fidgeting. His gloves tapped against his ankles as he sat cross-legged. He wanted to talk. Needed to, even. The silence had grown too long, too heavy, like the night was pressing in on them both.
He looked sideways at Shadow again, considering.
Then—
“So,” Sonic started casually, “what’s your biggest fear?”
Shadow turned his head so slowly, it could’ve been comical.
“My what?”
“Fear,” Sonic repeated, smiling like he was asking something simple. “Y’know. Like, deep down, what makes your fur stand on end? Something that really gets to you.”
Shadow stared at him blankly for a second. “I don’t have fears.”
“Oh c’mon,” Sonic teased, bumping his arm gently. “Everybody’s got something.”
“Not me.”
“That’s a lie.”
Shadow frowned. “I don’t lie.”
Sonic raised an eyebrow. “Really?”
Shadow just stared.
Sonic huffed. “Fine. What about… I don’t know. Heights?”
“No.”
“Darkness?”
“No.”
“Public speaking?”
“Absolutely not.”
Sonic tilted his head. “Being alone?”
The pause was a little too long.
Shadow’s arms crossed tighter.
“No.”
Sonic caught it, though. That flicker of hesitation. He didn’t call it out. Not yet.
“…Okay,” Sonic said slowly. “Fine. What about me?”
Shadow gave him a side glance. “What about you?”
“Do I scare you?”
Shadow let out a soft scoff. “You annoy me. That’s not the same thing.”
“Alright, I’ll take it,” Sonic grinned. “I’m annoying, but not scary. Got it.”
Another silence fell between them. This one shorter, not as heavy. Sonic leaned forward again, bouncing a little from the steady rhythm of the train.
“…You ever get bored?” he asked.
“I don’t get bored,” Shadow said automatically.
“Okay, you’ve gotta stop saying stuff like that.”
“Like what?”
“Like you’re not even remotely a person.”
Shadow narrowed his eyes. “I am a person.”
“Then act like one.”
“I am acting like one.”
Sonic snorted. “Well, you’re acting like a grumpy one. Which, I guess, tracks.”
Shadow looked away, chin tilting back toward the wind. His expression was unreadable again.
But Sonic wasn’t done. Not even close.
“Do you even like trains?” Sonic tried.
“They’re fine.”
“Okay. That’s progress.”
“…It’s a vehicle. It serves a purpose.”
Sonic shook his head, half-laughing. “You’re so weird, dude.”
“I’m not weird.”
“Shadow, you’re sitting on top of a train with your arms crossed like you're posing for an action movie poster.”
Shadow let out a breath—almost a sigh. It could’ve even been a laugh if Sonic squinted.
Sonic nudged his shoulder gently. “You’re not fooling me, y’know.”
Shadow didn’t respond, but Sonic kept going.
“You do have fears. You do get bored. And I know you’ve got opinions about stuff. You’re just too stubborn to say any of it out loud.”
“Not true.”
“Oh yeah? Prove it. What’s something you like?”
“…Silence.”
Sonic rolled his eyes. “Something else.”
Shadow looked down at his gloved hands for a second. Then, quietly: “Stars.”
Sonic blinked.
“Huh?”
“I like the stars,” Shadow said, not looking at him.
Sonic watched him for a moment, caught off guard by the honesty. He leaned back, bracing his hands behind him, and tilted his head toward the night sky.
“…Yeah,” Sonic said. “I like them too.”
They watched the sky for a while in quiet.
Sonic scooted a little closer, stretching his legs out and leaning back on his palms. His feet kicked lightly in the air, brushing the metal edge of the train car. He didn’t say anything right away. He just let the wind pass between them.
Then, softly:
“Do you remember the first time we looked at the stars together?”
He turned his head just slightly. Not all the way. Just enough to glance at Shadow, to see if his words hit anywhere deep. Shadow’s ears flicked, his posture stiffening for a second—then settling again.
Sonic smiled, faint and tired but real.
“On the moon. I remember it so clearly, even if it was months ago. We were on the edge of the platform. Everything was so quiet.”
Shadow didn’t respond right away. His eyes remained fixed on the sky, as if he was still there—on the moon, on that platform, not here.. But then, just as the wind began to rise again, he gave a slow nod.
“I remember.” His voice was low. Hoarse, like it had been buried in his chest too long.
Encouraged, Sonic sat up straighter. “It was the first time I realized space wasn’t scary. Not with you around.” He let out a small laugh. “Kinda funny, huh? Being in outer space, thinking about stars… and I was just thinking, ‘Damn. Shadow’s actually really cool.’”
Shadow blinked slowly. He didn’t turn to face Sonic, but there was something different in his body now. Something less rigid. Something that listened.
Sonic scratched the back of his head. “I always wanted to say that. That I thought you were cool. Even back then. Even when we were fighting.”
Silence again. But Sonic wasn’t afraid of it now. Not this kind.
So he filled it with truth.
“I didn’t think I’d ever get to just… talk to you like this. Train roof, cold wind, stars overhead. Y’know. Weirdly peaceful.”
Shadow’s voice came next—soft, almost brittle.
“You always talk.”
Sonic snorted. “Yeah. Guess I do.”
Shadow finally turned his head, eyes meeting Sonic’s. The glow of the moon softened them, gave them a shine Sonic didn’t know they could hold.
“…Why are you trying so hard?” Shadow asked.
Sonic blinked, genuinely surprised. “Trying so hard?”
“To talk. To ask things. You keep… reaching.” Shadow’s eyes narrowed slightly, not in anger, but in confusion. “Even when I give you nothing back.”
Sonic paused, and his voice lowered as he shrugged. “Because I want to.”
Shadow looked like he didn’t understand. Or maybe he didn’t want to.
So Sonic leaned forward a little, his gaze focused, the playful edge in his tone dimmed into something more sincere.
“I like you, Shadow.”
Shadow’s breath caught, just faintly, just once. He didn’t speak.
“I mean it.” Sonic didn’t stutter. “I know you’re hard to talk to. I know you close up and don’t say much. But I like being near you. I like the way you get all serious when things matter. I like how you never give up, even when everything hurts. I just… I want to get to know you. Not just the mission partner version. You.”
The wind wrapped around them again, stirring fur and ruffling quills. Sonic shifted his body closer, their legs almost touching now. The train rumbled beneath them, but it felt like the only real thing here was Shadow’s silence—and the starlight painting across his fur.
“You looked so lost just now,” Sonic said. “Like you were staring into the stars and hoping they’d talk back. So I wanted to say something first. That’s all.”
Shadow’s eyes dropped for a moment. His arms were still wrapped around his knees, but Sonic noticed the way his fingers twitched.
“…They remind me of her,” Shadow finally said. “The stars.”
Sonic didn’t need to ask who.
“The girl in New York.”
Sonic blinked. “Huh?”
“The one you saw me talking to,” Shadow said, barely above the sound of the wind. “The one with the blonde hair. Her name was Mary.”
Sonic sat upright again slowly, heart tightening. He turned to face him completely, sensing that this wasn’t just a throwaway sentence.
Shadow kept his eyes down now, focused on his gloved hands resting around his knees. His voice was slower now, heavier. “She… she reminded me too much of her. Of Maria. It was stupid. The hair. The voice. The way she smiled like she didn’t carry a single worry in the world. And then I asked her name and—God—she said Mary and I just…” His jaw clenched.
“I freaked out. I didn’t know what to do with that.”
Sonic didn’t speak. He sat there, quiet, unmoving, listening.
“I guess for a moment I thought she was some kind of… sign,” Shadow continued, bitter amusement flashing in his voice. “Some cosmic punishment. Or maybe a second chance, I don’t know. But it hurt. Like someone took a nail and drove it straight into the part of me I try not to think about.”
There was a silence. Not awkward. Not tense. Just still.
“I know I can’t undo what I’ve done,” Shadow said. “Maria’s gone. She’s been gone. And the world just… moved on. But I didn’t. I can’t forgive myself, not really. Not when every time I remember her, I just remember how bright she was. How much light she had inside her. And I’m still here. Alone.”
Sonic’s chest hurt in a way he didn’t expect. Shadow’s voice was so raw—quiet and cracking, like a glass sculpture on the edge of breaking.
“I’m scared,” Shadow said suddenly, as if the words had pushed past his lips without permission. “I have fears. Stupid ones.”
He looked away, as if ashamed. Sonic didn’t interrupt. Didn’t tease. Didn’t joke.
“I’m scared of heights,” Shadow admitted, almost laughing under his breath. “I hate being stuck up high. That’s ironic, isn’t it? For someone who’s been on that tall tower. I hate the feeling. I hate how exposed it makes me feel. I’m scared of silence, too. Not like… normal silence. But the kind that creeps in when you’re alone in a room and there’s nothing left to say. And at Tom and Maddie’s place, I get bored when there’s nothing to do. I know it sounds ridiculous, but it makes me feel like I don’t belong. Like I’m wasting their kindness.”
Sonic shifted closer, his voice softer now. “It doesn’t sound ridiculous.”
Shadow’s eyes finally met his. There was no anger there. No challenge. Just something tired. Something achingly human.
“I just don’t know who I’m supposed to be when I’m not fighting.”
Sonic swallowed hard. That hit a little too close to home. He knew what that kind of emptiness felt like—when you weren’t moving, or speeding forward, or fighting some big battle. Who were you then?
“I think…” Sonic started slowly, “we’re both trying to figure that out.”
Shadow’s gaze didn’t waver, and Sonic realized just how close he was sitting now. His hand was just an inch from Shadow’s. He could see the way Shadow’s fingers curled slightly into the fabric of his glove, the way his shoulders stayed drawn tight like he was afraid to relax, like he didn’t believe he was allowed to.
Sonic looked down at their hands. His heart was beating a little too fast.
Sonic didn’t know what he was doing. He just wanted to be close.
He wasn’t sure when it started—this strange twisting warmth in his chest whenever Shadow opened up, whenever he looked at him with those dark, intense eyes. It wasn’t obvious, but it was there. Quietly growing. Unfolding like a secret note passed under the table.
A small smile tugged at the corners of Sonic’s mouth, and he withdrew his hand, just barely.
But he didn’t move far. And Shadow didn’t look away.
Sonic sighed and looked upward, letting the wind play with his quills again.
“I think you shine too, y’know,” he said casually, voice almost lost to the breeze. “You just don’t see it yet.”
And then—he heard it. The soft hum ahead of them. The sudden increase in sound.
The train was approaching a tunnel.
A long one. Filled with glowing lights. The kind of tunnel that felt like magic, like a dream dipped in electricity.
Sonic’s eyes lit up.
He jumped to his feet, a blur of black, and spread his arms wide to either side, standing near the edge of the roof. His stance was steady, balanced—born of a lifetime of speed and wind and trust in his own feet.
The wind pressed against him like a lover’s touch, wrapping around his arms, sweeping through his fur. His mouth parted in a breathless grin, and for a moment, he looked like a painting—some kind of wild-hearted angel, basking in motion and energy.
“Sonic,” Shadow called out behind him.
“What are you doing?” he asked, wary, watching as the tunnel’s glowing mouth approached.
Sonic turned his head just enough for his eyes to meet Shadow’s.
“I’m living,” he said, his grin wide, heart open. “I’m living my life.”
And then—right as the train began entering the tunnel—all he could think of was that he felt infinite.
Light poured through the tunnel. It was everywhere—flickering patterns of gold and blue and white racing over the walls and ceiling, through the blur of steel beams overhead. The world became a glowing river of light, warping reality into something that felt holy.
Shadow watched him.
Watched the way Sonic laughed into the wind, how he tilted his head back and closed his eyes. How unafraid he was. How free.
And in that moment—
All Shadow could do was stare.
All he could do was admire him.
That feeling in his chest—the one he always ignored, the one he didn’t know what to name—it cracked open wider.
Because Sonic glowed in the light, the way Maria had.
But he didn’t remind Shadow of her. No, it wasn’t like that.
Sonic wasn’t replacing her memory.
He was his own kind of light.
He was something else entirely.
Sonic turned to him again, and his smile softened, more real, more vulnerable.
Their eyes met.
Neither of them said anything. But they didn’t need to.
In the glowing lights of the tunnel, Sonic’s face softened again. His lips twitched like he wanted to say something, but instead, he just smiled and looked away, cheeks faintly flushed beneath his tan fur.
And even though neither of them said it aloud—
They both felt it:
That something between them was changing.
The train roared away behind them, disappearing like a fading memory into the distance. Sonic stood in the soft dirt just off the tracks, the grass still damp from night’s lingering chill. His arms were stretched above his head, back arched in a yawn as he laughed and waved.
“Thanks for the ride!” he shouted, cupping his hands around his mouth like the train could hear him, his voice echoing into the quiet wilderness. “You were... weird! But cool! Thanks for the memories!”
Shadow stood beside him, slightly behind, arms folded and lips pressed into a line — his usual pose. But the corner of his mouth twitched upward, just a little.
Sonic noticed.
“C’mon, Shadow,” Sonic said with a grin, grabbing his wrist. “Let’s find our way back. I think we’re in Wyoming? Hopefully?”
Shadow didn’t resist the tug.
The sun hadn’t risen yet — but something about the air, the weight of it, the color of the horizon, made both of them believe that morning was near. A lightness in the world, a soft hum in the air. As if dawn had already peeked its head above the clouds and whispered, almost.
Their feet hit the road, and they ran.
No words for a while. Just the rhythm of their footsteps, soft gloved hands occasionally brushing, the cool wind slicking back their quills.
It wasn’t long before Sonic’s energy started to bubble up again — and Shadow, trailing just behind him, was the perfect target.
“You’re being slow today,” Sonic called over his shoulder, smirking. “What, tired already, Grandpa?”
Shadow didn’t respond.
Sonic dropped his speed just a little, just enough to fall beside him.
“You sure you’re okay? Not gonna collapse on me, are you?”
“I’m fine,” Shadow muttered.
“You don’t look fine.”
“I said I’m—”
Sonic nudged him. Not hard, just enough to make Shadow stumble for a second.
“Hey,” Shadow growled.
Sonic grinned. “Just making sure you’re awake. I don’t want you falling asleep and faceplanting into the road. You’d get quill burn. Not pretty.”
Shadow narrowed his eyes. “Do you ever stop talking?”
“Nope.” Sonic nudged him again, this time a little gentler, more playful. “Especially not when someone’s being all grumpy and slow.”
“I’m not slow.”
“You’re not fast today, either.”
“I’m pacing myself.”
“Uh-huh,” Sonic said, nudging him a third time — but this time Shadow swatted at him, and Sonic jumped away with a light laugh. “Okay, okay, I’ll stop. For now.”
They kept running. But now, Sonic stayed closer. Their arms brushed more often, not on accident. Sonic’s chest ached in this strange, unfamiliar way — not the kind that came from running too hard, or from fear.
He wanted… to hold Shadow’s hand.
To reach out, not just to tease or push him off balance, but to intertwine their fingers and feel his pulse.
It was dumb. It was weird.
Sonic didn’t do stuff like that. He was the kind of guy who punched shoulders and slapped backs and said, “You’re cool, bro,” instead of whispering something softer. But…
But he couldn’t get the image of Shadow out of his head. Knees pulled to chest, staring at the stars like he was lost again. Like he needed someone to remind him the world was still here.
Sonic wanted to be that someone.
He wanted to cradle his cheek. Just rest his palm there. Warm and steady. Maybe tilt Shadow’s face up so he could smile at him and say, “You’re not alone, y’know?” Maybe see what Shadow looked like when he smiled back, genuinely.
But now wasn’t the time.
So instead, he teased. He bumped his shoulder. He poked and provoked and poked again, just to keep Shadow awake, just to keep him close.
After a while, Sonic slowed again and turned his eyes to the sky. “Still night,” he said quietly.
Shadow followed his gaze. The stars were fading now — dimmer than before — but still there.
“Not for long,” Shadow murmured.
Sonic smiled. “Yeah. I can feel it too. Morning’s just around the corner.”
Shadow staggered half a step.
Then Sonic did it again.
And again.
“Stop that,” Shadow said, voice flat.
Sonic laughed.
“You’re so tired, you’re actually swaying,” Sonic said, nudging him once more. “C’mon, man, I’m keeping you awake. That’s a service, you should be thanking me—”
Shadow shoved him back without looking, but there was no weight behind it. Sonic just spun from the gentle push, stumbling over a root in the ground with a playful yell.
And then—
Trip.
“Wh—hey—!”
Their legs tangled.
Bodies collided.
And the world spun.
For a brief, chaotic second, they were a blur of blue and black, a mess of limbs and fur and surprised shouts, tumbling across the dew-damp grass. Dirt kicked up in the air. Shoes scraped the earth. Gloved hands grabbed for anything. Then—
Whump.
They landed. Hard.
Sonic was on his back.
Shadow was on his side, draped across Sonic’s legs, one hand splayed beside him in the grass. Their chests rose and fell rapidly, breath catching up to the sudden halt.
And then—
Sonic burst into laughter.
Loud, obnoxious, full-chested laughter. The kind that bubbled up and refused to be quiet. He threw an arm over his eyes and just let it all out, giggling like a little kid, legs kicking against the ground.
Shadow didn’t move.
He just laid there, staring up at the faint, early light beginning to tease the horizon. Everything around them smelled like soil and grass and fresh air. His ears twitched slightly, and then he slowly turned his head toward Sonic.
That laugh.
It was so genuine.
So unfiltered.
The sound of it settled deep in his chest and tugged at something uncomfortable—something familiar.
And for a second, his eyes unfocused. His vision hazed.
Because he could hear her.
He didn’t want to. But she was there. For just a moment. That same kind of laughter. High, innocent, and warm like sunlight pouring through a window.
Maria.
It passed quickly.
But something in him tightened.
He blinked, slowly, forcing the feeling down, burying it somewhere beneath the exhaustion pooling behind his eyes. He wasn’t going to think about her. Not now. Not while this… moment was happening.
Because Sonic was still laughing.
And his smile was stupid and crooked and wild.
And it was the brightest thing Shadow had seen in years.
“You’re a menace,” Shadow muttered, barely audible.
Sonic propped himself up on his elbows, looking down at him with his usual impish look. “I told you I was keeping you awake. What would you do without me, huh?”
Shadow didn’t answer.
He didn’t even try.
Instead, he shifted, barely, resting his head down against the cool grass once more. His entire body ached. Every part of him screamed to be still.
“I’m tired,” he finally said, the words barely a breath.
Sonic’s smile softened.
“No kidding. You look half-dead.”
Shadow didn’t even glare. He didn’t have the energy.
“I’m exhausted,” he mumbled again, as if saying it quieter would make it less real. “I can’t—move.”
He felt his eyes slip shut, his chest rising slowly with every breath. Grass brushed against his side. His hand lay open, palm-up, on the lawn.
Just a few feet away was the front porch. The lights were off, the windows dark, but it was there.
And for the first time since the train ride, Sonic stopped talking.
He just sat there beside him, chest still catching from all the laughing, watching the rise and fall of Shadow’s breathing. He could see it then—how tired he really was. Not just from running, not just from travel, but from everything. His whole being looked like it needed rest.
So Sonic didn’t ask him to get up.
He didn’t tease him again.
He didn’t say a word.
Instead, he leaned over just a little and rested his hand on the ground beside Shadow’s. Not quite touching. Not yet. But close. Just enough to feel the warmth.
Shadow didn’t notice at first.
But he didn’t pull away either.
The breeze rolled in softly. It stirred the grass around them, carrying with it the scent of nearby flowers, the faintest perfume of summer hanging onto the end of night.
Sonic tilted his head, looking up at the stars that were beginning to fade with the first hints of morning light.
He didn’t feel tired.
Not really.
He felt… full.
But in a weird, twisted kind of way.
Sonic wanted to touch him.
Just his cheek.
Just gently.
He wanted to see what it would be like—to hold him like that. To brush his thumb along that stripe, to see if Shadow would lean into it or flinch away. To lace their fingers together. To find excuses to be closer. To stay close.
But he didn’t move.
He just sat there.
Because maybe, in a strange and quiet way, this was already enough.
Sonic smiled.
Not a grin.
Not a smirk.
Just a real, small smile.