He awoke an unspecified amount of time later, his head throbbing. Groaning, he tried to claw his way out of the fog clinging to the crannies of his brain. The process sped up a good deal when a zing of pain shot through his leg.

Muttering, he heaved himself gingerly up on his elbows, trying not to move the leg in question. Bit of rock showered off his body as he sat up, some of them nearly the size of his fist, but he currently had bigger problems. Silently he surveyed the situation. It was pretty dramatic.

The rockslide seemed to have completely destroyed the face of the cliff, breaking it into multiple enormous chunks that had crumbled from their places and fallen to the ground below. Shadow had apparently fallen with them; it was very fortunate that none of the rock slabs had landed on top of him. Well, except for that largest one that was now resting on his foot.

Shadow shifted his left leg tentatively, eyeing the gigantic mass of rock resting on his ankle. His foot didn't feel like it was crushed, and he could even wiggle it a little, though it hurt. There must be a hollow space underneath the rock that had saved him from the worst damage, but all the same he sure couldn't pull his foot free. He bent it this way and that, but it simply wouldn't slide loose. Prying his fingers into the space between the rock and his leg, he tried to crumble it, but it was inordinately hard. He certainly couldn't lift such a huge weight, and there was rock underneath him too; no digging himself free.

Shadow had a feeling he already knew what would happen, but he tried anyway.

"Chaos Control!"

Nothing.

"Chaos Spear!"

His palms tingled with energy, but none of it sparked out. He slapped one hand against the edge of the rock futilely, as if he could somehow jolt the Chaos energy loose. Nothing, nothing, nothing! Why didn't any of his Chaos moves work here? He got the sinkingest feeling that it really was because of the rocks themselves.

If he didn't get free, it wasn't for lack of trying. He gave it everything he had; pulled, tugged, twisted, scraped, hammered the heel of his other foot against the rock; the amount of rage he gave that slab of stone would have done Knuckles or Omega proud. For all his efforts, he didn't even make a scratch in it. After almost an hour of trying, he fell back, panting, his face damp with sweat and melted snowflakes, and considered his situation.

Nope. He wasn't going anywhere. He had just gotten permission to go home, against all the odds, and fate had laughed and cast him this lot just to show who was in charge. Christmas alone after all, trapped out in the open, freezing cold and no way of getting shelter. Without his Chaos powers or even the ability to move, he was essentially . . . helpless. It was a new sensation, and not one he liked.

And Maria. Most of all, Maria. What was wrong with her? Would she be all right? Why couldn't he be there for her? What if . . . what if something happened to her while he was trapped here?

Gritting his teeth, Shadow threw one last furious effort into wrenching himself free, one last fit of desperation that left him breathless, exhausted, and still very much trapped. Swearing, he slammed his hands against the ground and reached up to rake his fingers through his quills. Rage swelled up in his chest.

"Dammit," he hissed, kicking out at the slab of rock now serving as his ball and chain. "Why'd they even have to come up with these stupid traditions? Blasted Christmas! Why—why'd he even have to be born?!"

Almost immediately a twist of guilt caught him. There were some things even he wasn't willing to disrespect.

I didn't mean that, he thought hastily, but somehow knew that the damage was already done. With a muffled growl he flopped back, folded his arms, and closed his eyes, feeling the icy stone below him seep cold through his fur.

What are you worried about? taunted the small resident voice in his head. You're non-religious, remember? You don't even believe in that stuff.

He'd never said he didn't believe in it, Shadow thought grimly. He did. Deep down inside, he knew he did. He just didn't . . . he didn't want to talk about it. He didn't want to tell people he believed, if they asked.

Because you're too good for it, the voice sneered. You think admitting you believe would make you look weak.

So what if he did? What did it matter if he admitted it or not?

Because that means you deny it, Shadow the Hedgehog. How are you going to explain that, when the day of reckoning comes? Are you going to tell Him you were too proud to acknowledge Him?

Growling again, Shadow twisted gingerly onto his stomach, carefully rotating his ankle into an at least slightly comfortable position. So he would be honest with himself; he had denied it. And for that matter, he wouldn't be stuck out here if he hadn't.

So this is your just punishment, is that it? he thought bitterly at the sky. You just had to drag Maria into it, didn't you? She didn't do anything wrong! So your idea of justice is to let her d—

He shuddered suddenly, unwilling to even think the word. His attempt at anger collapsed in on itself, and he laid his chin on the backs of his hands.

God, please, whatever you want with me, but please let Maria be all right . . . not for me, for her, please let her be all right . . .

The night was long, and thoughts are fast. No need to go prying too deep into what happens in another's soul. Eventually Shadow drifted off, exhausted from struggling.

He had the oddest dreams. He thought he was having the most wonderful conversation with someone, but he couldn't pick up the words; he sensed something nudging him into consciousness, but he didn't want to wake up. There were so many feelings he never had when he was awake . . . not all good ones, but all the same he wanted them. And there was one running through all the others, like the feeling he got whenever Maria hugged him, only even stronger . . . drifting somewhere between sleep and lucidity, he felt a warm hand gently stroking between his ears.

At last his eyes twitched reluctantly open, a sleepy groan catching in his throat. It was still dark, still cold, he was still alone . . . his foot was still trapped. It wasn't the right millenium for that kind of miracle. Really, nothing had changed . . . and yet he was entirely at peace. It would be all right; somehow he just knew it would be.

"Thanks," he sighed, not remembering the question but knowing he'd gotten a good answer. Something about second chances.

His eyes slid to the compact wristwatch G.U.N. had him wear for missions. The sky was the same kind of dark it had always been, but the timepiece read 5:15 PM, December 24th. Christmas Eve. He'd been trapped here since roughly two AM of the same day. He wondered how Maria was doing.

Twitching, Shadow rolled onto his back again, wincing at how reluctant his body was to move. The night was getting even colder . . . it was surprising that hypothermia hadn't set in yet, and it was bound to do so soon. He wasn't worried about dying, since he knew his body would go into torpor under these conditions. He'd drop into a deathlike sleep, with no breathing or heartbeat, but if brought into a warm room somewhere, he'd pop right back to life. The only issue was, few people outside of his closest friends knew that. If somebody else should stumble upon him while he was in torpor, they'd assume him dead, and if, for some reason, they didn't bring him inside before burying him . . .

Really, it would probably be a better idea to stay awake. But he was getting so sleepy . . . it was a wonder that he'd woken up at all. By all rights he should have lapsed into torpor already while he was dreaming, and there was no reason why he should have just woken up from a peaceful sleep like that. Not your average reason, anyway.

But either way, torpor was definitely coming on now, inexorably, dragging his eyelids closed. He could feel his body growing pleasantly warm, the final stage of freezing to death for most. For him it was a relief; he had nothing to fear. Sighing comfortably, he finally gave up the struggle and let his eyes slip shut.