Six years is a long time, but it also isn't. Shadow knows this better than most. After all, six years ago he died. Six years ago, he woke up sealed inside a pod with no memories. Five years ago, he nearly destroyed the world in his efforts to retrieve those memories.
As far as the public's concerned it might as well have been yesterday. Shadow can't blame them, but he tries to ignore all that. Jogging around the small, man-made lake near his apartment helps him keep his head clear on the nights his thoughts become too busy for sleep.
He jogs every night.
Still. Jogging, an apartment, working for GUN, his friendship with Rouge. None of it seemed possible before. Shadow focuses on the present, pushes the past back into its place—far beneath the surface of his thoughts.
He loses himself in the simple rhythm for another mile before something draws him back to reality. Up ahead, sitting on a bench, is a familiar figure. Dainty hands cover most of her face, but between her button nose, soft pink hair, and girly attire, Amy Rose is unmistakable. Shadow slows to a stop in front of her, but she doesn't notice. For a moment he just takes in the scene in front of him.
Amy's shoulders are shaking, and mascara mingles with the tears escaping between her fingers. Her sobs are quiet, but distinct. Shadow's heart wrenches at the sight, which is so at odds with the Amy he's met in the past. Amy Rose is bright; bubbly optimism mixed with the righteous fury of a shooting star. Amy Rose doesn't cry.
The need to comfort her stirs deep inside of him and for a moment he doesn't understand why.
Except, since their first meeting she's had faith in him, faith that he'll do the right thing. She believes in him even when he doesn't deserve it, despite all his mistakes.
That's what it must be, then. He owes her. She's always supported him; it's only fitting he return the favour.
Content in his logic, he clears his throat. The sound elicits a sharp gasp from the girl in front of him, and her head snaps up to see who dares intrude on such a private moment. That's the impression Shadow gets from the brief expression she has before noticing him, at any rate.
"Shadow?" she asks, grabbing a hitherto unnoticed pair of glasses from beside her on the bench and returning them to their rightful place on her nose. "What are you doing here?"
The glasses are new, but they do nothing to conceal her eyes; wide and jade and filled with too many emotions to place.
He gestures at his attire; track pants, sneakers, and a sweater. Nothing like the leather jackets and spikes he wore the last few times they met. "Jogging," he answers, as if that's what she was looking for. The other answer—learning to live and atoning for his sins—is not something he's willing to share with anyone but Rouge. Maybe Omega. "Are you okay?" It's a dumb question, but people aren't really his strong suit.
Amy shrugs. "I will be."
He shoots her a funny look at that before opting to take the seat next to her. "I wasn't asking about the future," he points out.
She fidgets for a moment, before sighing and hanging her head. "You're going to think I'm dumb."
"Try me."
"Why do you want to know?" she stalls. It's a good question, one he's asking himself. The answer comes easier than he expects.
"Maybe I can help." Maybe he can make it better. Maybe he can fix something that he didn't first cause.
She considers this before sighing again. "It's Sonic," she starts, reminding Shadow of her infatuation. What most would call her strongest trait, rather than just a notable one. "I mean, he's my soulmate, right? We're meant to be together. I know it, and he knows it, but still he tells me he's not interested. At first, I figured it was because we were just kids when we met, but I'm not a kid anymore!" At that she buries her face in her hands all over again.
"But," Shadow hesitates. He suspects this is the wrong thing to say, but he's not one to leave the obvious un-acknowledged. He glances at her; watches the way her shoulders shake. She's small, frail. He cared about someone else like that, once. Before he died.
The attachment is long gone.
"You are a kid," he points out. The shaking stops, and he remembers again that fury. He wonders how she could seem frail to him, even momentarily. Slowly she lifts her head and turns to meet his eyes.
"I'm eighteen," she informs him.
"Oh," he says, for lack of anything better to say. The silence stretches out between them, and Shadow finds himself at a loss. The air is too thick, charged and prickly like the instant before a Chaos Blast. "Sorry?" he offers when he doesn't think he can bear it anymore.
Amy snorts, entirely undignified and entirely uncaring. Perhaps she'd care if he were Sonic, but that's neither here nor there. "You're kinda crap at comfort," she tells him, as if he isn't painfully aware.
He huffs out a laugh. "So Rouge is fond of telling me."
The silence stretches out again, but this time there's a warmth to it. Shadow considers soulmates and destiny and whether or not the two are truly entwined, or if it's more like the destiny Gerald had once given him; an option and nothing more.
"How long have you known?" he asks eventually.
"That you're crap at comfort?"
His head whips up and he opens his mouth to correct her, but the words die when he sees the mischievous glint in her eyes. Of course, she's teasing.
"That you and Sonic are soulmates," he clarifies.
She hums, looking up to face the stars as she considers. The sky is beautiful tonight, clear in a way that it rarely is in the city. If he were to look, he could probably pick out the ARK from its place among the stars. He looks out over the lake instead.
He's grateful when Amy speaks up again. "I must have been eight," she says, before her face twists in an unreadable expression. "Funny, it doesn't feel like it was ten years ago."
Shadow can't fathom what ten years must feel like. Immortality spans in front of him, but ten years is nearly double what he's known. "What does it feel like?"
"I'm not sure. Less, or maybe more."
He makes a soft sound of acknowledgement. "Did you find out right away?"
She nods. "He rescued me from Eggman the first time we met, and when he put me down his arms were glowing." Her expression shifts again, eyes taking on a dreamlike quality. "He said it meant we'd be friends forever," she breathes in a voice as faint as morning mist. "He thought it was cool back then, what changed?"
She looks small again. Small and frail and lost. He feels the urge to protect welling up inside him, but how can you protect someone from their own insecurities?
"Why won't he slow down for me?"
Shadow bumps his knee against Amy's—a small showing of comfort before he points out an unfortunate truth. The contact makes her start.
"Sonic isn't generally one to slow down for anything," he reminds her. She opens her mouth to argue, but he turns his attention back to the lake and presses on. "Expecting otherwise will only lead to more pain. He is who he is, and wanting him to change for you is, bluntly, disrespectful. Do you really love Sonic, or just the idea of him?"
He turns to her then, and knows he went too far. Amy's cheeks are red enough to match her headband, her mouth is opening and closing in an effort not to lay into him, and her eyes have filled with tears. Why did he have to tack on that last bit?
"Amy—"
"Who asked you?" she demands, surging to her feet. "What do you know about love, anyway? You're just a cranky jerk!"
She makes to storm off, but Shadow's hand darts after her. She's so angry that he can feel the heat radiating off of her through her sleeve.
"Wait—"
She yanks her arm away, and he scrambles to his feet, undignified and panicked in a way he doesn't understand.
"Amy—"
She whips around, eyes flashing. Tears cover her cheeks and are starting to drip off her chin. "We're not even friends, go away!"
Shadow halts in his tracks, his vision narrowing until the only thing in focus is Amy. Not friends? His heart stutters at the idea, and he remains frozen as he watches her stalk off.
What was that about helping?