Hey, the bunnies came back after that chapter dump last week!

I think they needed a holiday, because that was a lot of writing for one week...

And this was written in one evening, so the holiday apparently did them good.

Thank you again for all the reviews. We got like, five overnight! And the next day! I love waking up to reviews, it makes the drive to write so much stronger

Anyway, thanks to my beta, who's making editing a whole lot easier, because even if I keep rewiting entire chapters six times over he still reads them all for errors. Send him a cookie, okay?

And with that, I hope you enjoy =]

ALTERED REALITIES

When the sun goes down and street lights burn, another side of Station Square comes alive. While seedier parts of town would thrive on debauchery and deceit, the centre itself hums with the anticipation and excitement of those heading into the darkened streets not to engage in illicit acts, but to enjoy themselves with friends and partners.

During the Heat, this effect magnifies; hundreds who would normally neither socialise nor drink flood into the bars, clubs and eateries, pouring money into distractions or readily prowling for a partner to burn the season out with. Sales of birth control skyrocket while Humans actively avoid the Mobian Sector, unwilling to risk coming across frantic copulations in alleys or drunken fights between suitors.

Rouge's is situated in the heart of the Mobian Sector, at the epicentre of the entertainment district. Since it opened just three years earlier, rumours of its particularly busty - and allegedly promiscuous - proprietor coupled with cheap booze, up-to-date music and generous shot measures were enough to garner popularity. Now, it stands as the busiest bar in the entirety of Station Square, even attracting Human custom outside of the season.

Beyond the bouncers, the interior is divided into two sections. The first is the largest, and affectionately dubbed the 'Party Hub'. Here, most of the space is dedicated to dancing; the floor is paved with large, backlit squares with an array of colours at their disposal, allowing the DJ to light up areas for dance-offs, pit impromptu teams against one another, or set them to change every few seconds for a near-strobing effect. Additional ceiling-mounted spotlights can flock to people and give them some undivided attention, often used to highlight winners for bragging rights, singles set up by their mates to request a date, or even the odd proposal.

The second section is much more sedate, a small room with a private bar, and perhaps a dozen chairs at a few tables the only seating besides the five stools at the bar itself. The music is audible but muted, the lights a much more bearable pale yellow, and not a spotlight to be seen to highlight anyone's miseries.

It's here Sonic finds himself nursing a whiskey and cola, staring down into the glass as ice floats on the liquid's surface. A deep bruise is forming on his cheek and his jaw aches slightly when he takes a sip from the stiff drink. He cringes, both in pain and at the taste, and places the glass back on the bar with a light clink.

He's not normally much of a drinker, but he doesn't normally attempt to strangle friends in other friends' apartments either. The memory of the event is as foreign to him as the concoction now in his grasp, a recommendation from the bartender he's already regretting.

The idea of returning to New Metropolis makes him nauseous. Sonic knows he's a terrible liar. Going home early from his usual night out with Shadow would prompt questions, and it would only be a matter of time before his conscience got the better of him, making him blurt out everything; what happened to Tails, how he reacted, and eventually that the bruise wasn't just from a sparring session with his obsidian counterpart.

Tails. Just thinking of his little brother being molested in revenge causes bile to rise up his gullet. The youngster was innocent, and had still been pure of the trials of the Heat, since there were no female foxes currently living in Knothole. He'd have been confused, likely embarrassed, and after he understood what happened, probably felt mortified and violated.

But this trail of thought now leads back to the instigation of her actions; his own abuse of her body. He raises the glass to his lips again, knocking back a larger mouthful before resting his elbow on the bar, eyeing what remains of the contents with detachment.

Other than admitting the act to Sally upon returning to the palace, he hadn't put much thought into those events, believing it had been a forgivable moment of passion. He'd heard the hurt in her voice, seen the broken expression on her face and still made his exit, intent on avoiding Knothole until the season passed and they could talk rationally.

Never did he believe Amy's response would have been so dramatic, nor that she would issue that retaliation against anyone but himself, but as much as he wanted to put the entirety of the blame for Tails' molestation on her, it was becoming clear that he shouldered a large amount of that blame.

If only I'd known it was Heat season already. I would've just left. Self-control has never been one of his virtues; he's known by those closest to him as sporadic, impulsive and impatient beneath his cheerful exterior, but he hadn't ever thought he would be so callous with someone.

Because that's what it is, he realises. Callousness.

Every year, dozens of rape and molestation cases would arise in each major city, perpetrators citing lack of self control and uncontrolled female hormones. Once again, lobbies by other males Sonic would usually snort at in disgust would call for mandatory female birth control, and there would be another political slaughter of patriarchal ideologies before it was dropped for another year.

Except now here he was, crying pheromones along with the rest of them, trying to remove all blame from himself. He shakes his head at his own audacity and takes another sip of his drink, placing down on the bar again before holding his face in his hands.

When had he become so insensitive? The signs had been there; Amy was flushed and hot, overtly open in regard to engaging in intercourse despite knowing he was getting serious with Sally, and he'd swept her tears aside at the end and told her not to talk about it, like he was ashamed.

And he is ashamed. Not of sweet Amy Rose, but of what he did to her.

He's ashamed of his lack of observation at the time, of how easy it was to engage in the act - one that takes two to complete, he notes with disgust at himself - and then blame her for the entire thing. Like there was no responsibility on him to bother to be prepared, to carry a condom or two when sex drives were raised and incidents like this could happen, and instead blame her for a hormonal fluctuation she had no control over.

His arms drop to the sticky bar, but he doesn't move them despite this, much too engrossed in his thoughts. Sure, it had been the first week of the Heat - pregnancy rates in the first seven days were as low as outside of the season, allowing women to sleep about a bit and find someone they were compatible with before committing to children - but that didn't mean it was okay, did it?

To make matters worse, she'd taken her anger out on Tails, and then ended up with Shadow as the Heat picked up tempo, when pregnancy rates rose exponentially. There was a pretty high chance they'd slept together (a thought that made Sonic cringe as unwanted images of his rival doing the horizontal tango came to mind) and conceived, if Shadow was as oblivious to contraception as Sonic believed him to be.

It was all because of his lack of control, which meant he'd successfully ruined two relationships in one night. A new personal best.

Moreover, he was concerned, because the biological anomaly that was The Ultimate Lifeform was not someone Sonic considered to be mate material. His upbringing was the direct opposite of normal, his attitude was predominantly negative, he lacked charisma, and the only emotion he seemed to express was an exceptionally fiery temper.

As for their friendship, well, it could hardly be called anything other than forced. The pair socialised because Rouge asked him to get the sullen hedgehog out of his apartment on a regular basis, to prevent him stagnating or becoming depressed.

That last part made him snort, because Shadow was so morose on a regular basis he struggled to imagine the hedgehog as more depressive. Still, he did agree that no one deserved to live a solitary lifestyle, and therefore continued to badger the other to hang out as a favour to a long-time friend.

Excluding the bowling and drinks Sonic managed to secure on a fortnightly basis, they never spoke. He didn't even have Shadow's mobile number, the obsidian spouting some bull about it being for work only despite often using it to order food. He'd requested and been refused the other's number so often he'd given up.

None of this is behaviour Sonic would associate with being a good mate, yet Amy seemed… happy. She'd baked cookies and had used the retired agent's bank account to get herself - and Shadow as well, given the clothing he was wearing when clouting Sonic in the face actually fit - a new wardrobe, the tracksuit she'd been wearing an expensive, soft material.

But was she actually happy, or had they decided to shack up because Knothole no longer wanted her? Did they intend to start a family, even though the spontaneity of the decision was one that could rival the decisions of Sonic himself? Why hadn't he marked her yet, if their relationship was serious?

Did it even matter now neither of them likely wanted to see him again?

Regardless, he feels guilty for how he treated her then and now, how he'd tried to get back in her pants before reacting so strongly to her confession, oblivious to his own complicity. The need to apologise bubbles in his chest, but even with his senses partially dulled by the strong alcohol he's aware attempting to do so right now would likely see his ribs broken, the only variable being which hedgehog got to him first.

He downs the rest of the drink, ice clicking against his teeth, and stands as he places the glass back on the bar. His tab already paid, he slips the bartender a few singles and heads outside, the crisp spring night a welcome chill on warm skin.

He's realised moping about here isn't going to make him feel any better. He needs a distraction, and the only one he can think of that doesn't run the risk of making him feel even shittier is to return to New Metropolis and burn our his anger, frustration and guilt by also satiating his lingering libido with Sally.

Twisting the truth is easiest. He'll blame the bruise on Shadow, not expand on the details, then drill the squirrel so hard into the bedsheets, she'll hopefully pass out before asking any questions.

Then he just has to be gone again before she wakes, and that's easy enough. After all, he has a kitsune to visit.

oOoOo

Shadow doesn't seem to have a circadian rhythm, the internal clock that makes sure living things get tired when they're supposed to. Predominantly relying on ambient Chaos energy supplemented with sparse nutrition to keep him ticking over, feeling the need to sleep would often come without warning, and it's the most irritating thing when he's trying to achieve something.

Like reading over a contract and trying to memorise three dozen cadet files. He's made progress at least; the legal document is annotated to his liking and over half the documents regarding his cadets thoroughly read, but he's found himself re-reading the same line of a personal summary six times in the last few minutes, a clear indication of exhaustion.

It's been a long time since he last slept; according to the calendar on his mobile, the last bout had been nineteen days prior, and had lasted for just three hours. He closes the app before the notes he added to that sleep load and rests an elbow on the breakfast bar, pinching the inner corners of his eyes as they begin to burn with effort.

The longest he's ever gone is twenty four days, the last four of which were excruciating. He and Rouge had been on their last assignment and, since she needed to sleep to maintain her sanity, he'd instead drawn off the Chaos emerald he possessed to revitalise his brain cells, keeping watch in case Infinite - or Zero, he'd learned was the jackal's name, before Eggman had fused him with the Phantom Ruby - tried to assassinate his stalkers in their sleep.

Those four days were burned in his memory, a clear reminder why he didn't rely entirely on Chaos energy to function. Having not done so before Infinite left him for dead in the desert, he had no idea if the Phantom Ruby had tainted him somehow, but allowing his body to burn Chaos instead of sleeping had resulted in a semi-psychotic state; memories and Phantom Ruby-derived visions bled into reality, leading to disorientation, and his nerve endings felt as if they were on fire.

It resulted in his inability to function, eventually. The mission failed. Despite their disagreements at the time, it seemed Rouge had instead clung to Towers' assumption that their relationship had caused the issues, for in some parts it had, and his mental instability had gone ignored. Soon retired, that episode never made it to official notes.

He'd always hated sleeping, and knowing he couldn't avoid it without giving himself a psychotic episode only made him resent it more.

Back on the ARK, he'd woken up in a cold sweat believing Maria dead more times than he cared to recall, and every time he hadn't been able calm down until he'd seen her peaceful, breathing form beneath blankets in her bed. It was a number of years, but the professor had eventually allowed him to sleep in the same room, and those dreams had declined dramatically in just a few days.

Since her death though, the nightmares had returned, plaguing any rest he tried to get with visions of her demise. That had been torture enough, by they got worse following his six month stint in the desert; the events feel current and solid, as if he were still trapped in a Phantom Ruby reality.

The knowledge trying to avoid that horror would only bring on waking nightmares? Well, that was a horror in itself, really.

A check of the time shows it to be four in the morning, still early enough to sleep and awaken before Amy, though he'd have to take the couch. It doesn't seem decent to invite himself into bed while she sleeps, even if they'd already consummated the relationship.

His hand drops to the table, a frown on his muzzle as the reality of that thought finally settles in his brain. They'd had sex. Twice. While his understanding of mating season and Mobian mating rituals is vague, he does know where babies came from, and now his mind's too tired to get hung up on other things, that realisation smacks him in the gut.

Humans had to worry about getting pregnant every month, while Mobians had a season, but intercourse definitely made babies when the season hit - that was a fact drawn from his knowledge of human reproductive systems and common sense - therefore, this overwhelming urge to keep Amy safe from GUN was perhaps paternal, or a combination of that and a natural response to pheromones, once you slept with someone?

I'm going to be a father.

With that thought, Shadow almost fell sideways off his stool, catching the countertop at the last moment and managing to haul himself back into a seated position. He has to suppress the sudden urge to stuff three cookies into his mouth simultaneously and distracts himself from doing so by looking towards the bedroom.

Lightheadedness is the first thing he's able to identify, except this time it isn't coupled with anxiety but instead a body-wide jittering of muscle beneath his pelt. He has the urge to smile, and the beginnings of one curls his lip before he can fully comprehend the emotion: excitement.

By all rights, he should be terrified. He has no experience with children beyond Cream, a young rabbit he'd met once while visiting Knothole some time ago, and the already matured two-tailed vulpine that shadowed Sonic everywhere. Neither of them took to him well - though the rabbit had made him a flower crown Sonic insisted he wear while in her presence - and he didn't enjoy their company either.

There isn't even a father figure he can base his behaviour on. While the professor became kinder the longer they knew one another, he was hardly an actual father figure given he also headed most of the tests Shadow endured, and Black Doom was… well, an alien. That alone discounted him as a role model for Mobian parenthood.

Did normal people feel excited when they found out such news? The few soap operas he's watched always seemed to portray a dramatic, extreme response, ranging from dancing about the room with the woman in your arms to actively running away and having to be located and forcibly returned by friends.

He didn't feel like learning the foxtrot, but he definitely felt happy. Happier than he believed he could be since Maria's passing. Happier maybe then he ever felt in her presence - he cringes at how horrible that sounds, but cannot deny its truth - since he no longer needs to suffer to be with those that make him happy.

The elation dulls slightly as another thought comes to mind. Would it even be his baby? She'd slept with three other people before getting dropped on his doorstep, after all. Did women's bodies pick and choose which one it wanted, or did it just take the first opportunity offered? Were cross-species babies even viable? Was there a preference for same-species, if more than one Mobian mated with the same female? What if she had babies from all of them?

He nearly falls off his stool again.

Reasonably certain this train of thought wasn't going to help him sleep, he tries to discard it as he stands, leaving his empty mug beside the open folder of cadet files to pad across to the bedroom. The door is already cracked open, but he pushes it slightly further to peek inside, blocking most of the light with his body.

Amy is curled up with her back to him, blankets drawn with her when she rolled in her sleep to create a cocoon, a mess of pink quills on a pillow the only part of her visible. He smiles softly and is about to close the door again when she rolls to look at him, squinting against the light. "Shadow?"

Caught in the act of peeking in on her sleeping, he feels an awkward embarrassment as he clears his throat. "I was… checking on you. Before I went to sleep. I didn't mean to wake you."

He begins to close the door rapidly. "Wait." He pauses at her words and, when no more follow, he pushes the door open a little more again. She's levered herself up on one arm and sleepy emerald eyes meet crimson. "You didn't wake me, I… I'm not sleeping so well, and been awake a little while."

Unable to find reassuring words, he instead nods in understanding, pretty sure most people wouldn't sleep well after being assaulted. She offers a weak smile before continuing. "Were you… going to sleep on the couch?" He hesitates before nodding once more, and feels a prickly, happy feeling begin to worm its way into his muscles as she scoots over on the bed. "Did you… I mean, it might help…" It's her turn to clear her throat, grasping for words in her tired haze, before sighing gently. "Will you stay? Company might help me sleep... Or, if you're not comfortable, I can go on the couch, if you want…"

A snort of amusement escapes before he can halt it. "I would not expect you to vacate the bed, I'm quite comfortable on the couch." He notes her smile falter slightly at that implication, and mentally berates himself for insensitive wording as he continues. "But, if you are not adverse to it… I'll gladly keep you company."

Her smile returns as she pats the bed beside her, leaving no uncertainty regarding her own preferences. A smile creeps onto his lips without his consent as he extinguishes the living room light and wastes little time shedding the clothing he's actually become comfortable in during the last seven hours.

The giddiness returns full-force when he lays down and Amy shuffles over to him, snuggling into his chest fur and curling into his side as he wraps an arm around her back. A leg wraps across his own and claims it as hers, reducing the pair to a tangle of limbs and fur beneath the sheets.

Having never shared a bed with Rouge unless they were about to sleep together, the warmth of another is a comfort he's unaccustomed, her soft breaths a calming metronome in contrast to the muted traffic and voices from outside. Unconsciously, his head tilts so it rests against hers, eyes closing in contentment as he hand comes to rest on his abdomen.

As he's drifting off, the realisation her pheromones haven't been as potent all even comes to him. Perhaps this is something else he's ignorant of, he thinks. He groggily debates if it made sense for her scent to decrease after they've recently copulated, or perhaps if she was already pregnant, but thoughts soon give way to slumber, the pair both surrendering consciousness as they rest in each other's embrace.

Shadow's rest is dreamless and peaceful, a blessing he believed had abandoned him long ago on the ARK, and one he'd rssigned to never returning. Upon waking, this will seem surreal. He'll question if he's truly free of his unconsciousness until Amy stirs to confirm reality for him.

But for now, the Heat - and its varied ramifications - remain forgotten, a quiet settling over them that would eventually take the entirety of Station Square, the stillness of the night as old as time itself a testament that even the Heat cannot disrupt the ancient rhythms of nature.