Oh my food golly gosh, copyand paste actually kept all my formatting! I'm so happy! That was so much easier!

Minor mentions of past torture in this chapter. Just a heads up.

Thank you to all my reviewers! Hope you're loving the inboxes you're getting!

Enjoy!

HER PROTECTOR

Silence.

The hybrid prefers silence.

Silence means its left alone. No strange, tall creatures dragging it out of its home to partake in painful or strenuous activities. No stingers that make it sleep or drag out some stuff from its arm, no floors that move themselves that its made to run on, no wet things to be coated in that make its outsides hurt.

It is the Dim. The tall-ones never come in the Dim. They sleep. It has heard them talk of it. It wonders if they use stingers to make themselves sleep too. It never needs to sleep unless a stinger is used, and it hates sleeping. Things that don't exist taunt it, other things don't make sense, and it sees the younglings again.

It worries about the younglings. The frightened small-talls. They'd been cowering, and one had been injured. It'd tried to protect them, but was eventually hit with a stinger, and it woke in this place; white on all sides except the one which had… strips of cold. Thick-colds. It'd tried to slip through them but couldn't, had tried to break them as it had the place it awoke in, but couldn't.

Bright bands adorn its wrists and ankles now. It's tried to force them off with paw-sharps and teeth but they hold. 'Inhibitors', the tall-ones called them. They weaken it, make it less dangerous so the tall-ones control it. It wants nothing more than to remove them and make the tall-ones feel pain, too.

Sound.

There's sound.

The Dim is still there but doors open. Listeners turn to the sound and sound-things are heard. "Project Shadow." "Pain." "Fear." It's grasp of the tall-ones language is poor, but these words it has heard before. Tall-ones used the words to refer to it often.

The silence is broken; a new Bright will begin soon. The Dim will become Bright any moment, and the tall-ones will cause Pain and Fear again. It already feels Fear prickling up its back in dread, its fur and sharps lifting defensively in response to the feeling.

Bright floods in. Its lips fold back to bare its teeth beneath the thin-cold strapped to its outsides. The cage on its teeth-place has been there since it used teeth on a tall-one. The thin-cold is not cold where it touches his outsides, but is never taken off. Hot Pain follows his outsides where it touches. More Hot Pain when his teeth bare, bur Fear is stronger. Listeners fold back and it cowers against the white far from the cold-strips, where the tall-ones will appear and try to use stingers.

The tall-ones are too small. Its confused but still growls, paw-sharps scratching at the hard cold beneath it anxiously. Fear and Pain are to begin again; everything is Fear and Pain, it knows they come for it once more. Sharps bristle high to be intimidating as the tall-ones near.

But it is not tall-ones. It is the younglings.

The injured youngling is first to approach, but is no longer of Pain. The youngling makes itself smaller, and the sound-things it makes are soft and gentle. It doesn't recall a tone like this and continues to growl, defending itself. The youngling's expression changes, and it is something it understands:

Sad.

Sad like it is when Pain comes.

It's Angry is making the youngling Sad.

Memory is hard. Sleep-haunts and memories are confused, but this youngling's Sad helps it recall the previous Kind shown to it. The small-tall's tone then was the same. The Kind was real. It stops growling. Strange-Fear feels jittery in its legs but it forces itself forwards, upright on hindquarters as it hesitantly approaches the thick-colds, pausing a short distance away.

The small-tall's expression changes again to one it doesn't know. It tries to mimic it, muzzle curling upwards, no teeth showing. The youngling's own gets larger and it motions the other youngling over excitedly. It sits by the cold strips as the other youngling approaches, and then they all sit, regarding one another, curling lips of varying degrees on all faces.

After a while, the first youngling points to itself. "Meriah." When it gives a look of puzzlement, the youngling tries again, more slowly. "Ma-ri-a." Then it points to the other youngling. "Ay-bree-ham."

It doesn't knows what the youngling wants. It's never tried to make sound-things before, only understand them. Did the small-tall want him to use sound-things too? It looks to the youngling and mimics as best it can, teeth-place moving strangely as sound-things form in its throat. "Mrr-ee-uh." It cringes at how bad it did, but the youngling lip-curls and sound-things come fast.

Excite. An infectious emotion it's never felt before, but it feels Excite with them.

Unwilling to waste the time it has with these younglings, it looks to the other and garbles an attempt at its sound-thing. "Arr-grr-mmm." Now both younglings are Excite. They repeat the sound-things again and pause, waiting for it to try once more.

The younglings stay and practice sound-things with it for the rest of the Dim. It perfects "Maria", manages "Abe" and learns some of its own sound-thing: "Shadow." Excite. Happy. It's never been any of these things until now and it basks in them, much preferring these over Fear and Pain.

Then the Bright comes back, and so does Fear. Its immediate and instinctual. It backs into the white again as teeth bear and growls escape the teeth-place, listeners pressing to it's outsides. It doesn't understand most of the sound-things the younglings use with the tall-ones that find them there. It worries for them again as these tall-ones show Anger, and it growls more deeply in their defence.

And then the silence comes back, but the tall-ones are still in there as 'Maria' gets small in front of it again. Her lips curl up and it mimics it again, finding Surprise on the tall-ones when its succeeds. Smile, they say. The lip-curl sound-thing is Smile. "Maria," the youngling states, pointing at herself to get his attention again, and then waits expectantly.

Silence.

The hybrid prefers silence.

When the tall-ones and the youngling stop making sounds-things, it is silence that returns. Silence comforts it, and it's hesitant to break the silence just to show it knows sound-things. It looks to 'Maria', and Sad is on her face again. The next Tall-one sound-things are Angry, and the younglings look like they're leaving while Sad.

"Ma-ri-ah." Its sound-things bring back the silence. So strange, for sound-things to make silence. It looks at the first youngling for emphasis and repeats itself, then motions to the quieter youngling. "Abe." Finally, it motions to its own outsides. "Shaah-doh."

Sound-things fall from the tall-ones too fast for it to decipher. Most of them are new, but Excite is in their tone. Excite and Hope well up inside it as well; it can use sound-things, and maybe could learn more. If it learns more, maybe… Pain and Fear would leave.

'Maria' does Smile again, so much her teeth show, and 'Shadow' does the same. Hope. It had Hope.

Something brushes against Shadow's arm fur and he bristles on instinct. Sharp eyes round on the perpetrator to assess their intent, lip curling into a snarl before the response can be modulated.

The Mobian recruit reaching for the coffee container freezes in place with fingers less than an inch from his prize. He's a badger, two distinctive black bands along an otherwise white face. Spanning from a charcoal muzzle, they border pale brown eyes that regard the hedgehog with overt trepidation, then merge into a grey-black pelt that begins at his neck.

Eyes lock, fierce and uncertain, and all of a sudden the real world comes back into focus; metal cutlery clinking on sectioned trays, the small oppressive room, the hum of chatter, and the smell of microwaved lasagne and burnt coffee.

Beside him, the kettle hisses incessantly. Steam from the spout swirls around and dampens the fur on his other arm, the heat and moisture grounding him to reality. A moment of silence passes before he turns away from the startled mammal, flicking the kettle off and lifting it from its housing with practiced precision.

Since Gerald altered his memory - driving him to enact the slighted scientists' retribution on the planet under Eggman's guidance - Shadow's mental state hasn't been particularly stable. The intrusion of the Black Arms Hive Mind exacerbated it, fragmenting established memories and feeding his paranoid outlook.

The self-perpetuating cycle of distrust those events cultivated lead to Shadow socially isolating himself, finding the solitude and peace that always comforted him in the wilderness. Months afterwards, he'd been located by GUN and offered a position directly by Commander Towers; leader of Team Dark, an exclusive strike team whose primary focus was the interception and, where possible, prevention of Eggman's increasingly demented plans.

With his memory still fractured and original purpose now irrelevant, he'd taken the job for the stability it would provide and unknowingly permitted Towers to begin dictating his existence. It was during the first few months he became intimate with Rouge and, if not for her companionship and candid conversation, it may have taken him much longer to realise his predicament within the maelstrom that constituted his consciousness.

Regardless, it was too late. Contracts had been signed, he'd moved into their accomodation to utilise the base's facilities, and missions were flooding in as Eggman tried to take advantage of GUN's depleted resources in the wake of the Black Arms Invasion. He barely even had time to acknowledge his grievances, let alone bring them to Towers' attention.

Not only that, a clause in the fineprint left him unwilling to push against established boundaries. A deep-seated fear of being returned to stasis piggybacked alongside his paranoia, the usual aggressive defiance of authority sequestered beneath vague memories of pain and terror he had no desire to reinstate.

Following his six-month ordeal with the Phantom Ruby, memories he'd previously lacked access to began flooding back, most of them unpleasant. This most recent recollection, however, offers hope. It would be pleasant to recall his relationship with Maria in more detail, and a boon to learn more of his past interactions with Abraham.

Maybe he'll even discover why the Commander seems to despise him so much…

The cadet awkwardly clears his throat as the hedgehog pours boiling water onto coffee granules. "Sorry, Sir. Just lookin' to make a cup a Joe." The badger's voice is deep and speech slow, the accent beneath an attempt at clear diction holding a common, rural taint.

Shadow isn't sure what to make of the authoritative title and stays silent, glancing at the Mobian from the corner of his eye as he replaces the kettle. The creature is short and stocky in physique, mass comprised of fat rather than muscle. A thick forearm, revealed by the green camouflage fatigue sleeve being rolled back to the elbow, scoops out three spoons of grounds for his own mug.

Suppressing a smirk that tries to curve his lips, he masks his appreciation for the other's courage with his own nonchalance. Most cadets weren't brave enough to approach him directly, let alone maintain their composure after making contact.

"Name's Tibbs, by the way," the badger says without a glance, reaching for the kettle as Shadow stirs a single sugar into his own murky brew. "Timothy Tibbs, but them military types ain't too fussed on Christian names, are they?"

He also goes for sugar once the kettle's replaced, favouring two and a touch of milk, while the ebony continues to stir his own coffee. Both coffee grounds and sugar have long since dissolved, but he's hesitant to head off for a meeting that's not due to start for a while.

"Anyway, won't keep you. Know you're busy." Tibbs taps his spoon on the edge of the mug before dropping it into the sink. As Shadow taps his own spoon clear of residual coffee, the badger raises his mug slightly in a vague toast, the motion finally drawing the agent's attention. "See you on the trainin' grounds, Sir."

Seconds pass. Crimson irises stare into dull browns as Shadow assesses the badger before him. Tibbs. Details of his file are drawn to the forefront of his mind. Ability: Production and detonation of Chaos Parcels, a potentially potent use of Chaos. One I should attempt to adopt, if possible...

Finally, he nods. A small, almost smug smile curves the badger's muzzle and he turns away without another word, striding towards the cadet table with confidence as others either stare wide-eyed at Shadow, or gape at their returning comrade in a mixture of disbelief and reverence.

Suppose that 'accidental' meeting was more than chance. Emitting a snort of both respect and amusement, he retrieves his mug from the counter and heads for the door. Subtle but effective. If he's not already undergoing covert operations tutelage, I'll recommend him personally.

In the years he'd worked for GUN, it'd quickly become obvious that being seen to interact with the right people was a driving force for promotion in the main corps. As such, some budding hopeful Mobian recruits had attempted - and usually failed - to socialise with him whenever he left Team Dark's apartment.

Then, it was annoying; none if them had been subtle, and being bothered by people he didn't know pissed him off. When he let them know how pissed off, though, most got the message rather fast. Only a small number of the more persistent variety had required being threatened with non-surgical organ removal to understand.

Tibbs has divulged his character already; he's ambitious. Actively establishing a status quo amongst the cadets with himself near the top - in addition to publicly attempting to speak with a potentially volatile senior member of staff - would likely assure his promotion above his peers, should a position become available.

Out in the hall, Shadow slows his pace and sips at his coffee, mood turning sombre once more. Towers' office is a five minute walk away, and he has ten minutes until tardy. There's no rush.

oOoOo

With the blandest look of concern he can muster, Towers regards Rouge as she blows off some steam over her latest assignment. He's well aware that her days as a honey-trap are numbered; the Echidnan Guardian she's betrothed to will likely have something to say about the practice once they tie the knot.

Rouge has been his best Mobian espionage agent for nine years. Finding an adequate replacement won't be easy, even if she's personally trained her replacement and especially if they're required to work with Agent Shadow.

Therefore, he listens about her stained rug and broken coffee table and puts little thought into allowing them onto her expenses budget for the year, instead mentally sorting through Mobian cadet files. With no exemplary candidate, he's begrudgingly beginning to accept he may need to ask all three agents for appropriate suggestions.

Once she's satisfied with the amount of compensation she'd receive for her apartment, she'd taken her phone out and begun to type rapidly, likely to her fiance. Taking advantage of the quiet, he'd begun to look over the notes and annotations Shadow had made to his contract, only to find he's actually glad Rouge brought it with her ahead of time.

The entire document is a spider-web of red; the borders are covered in comments and corrections, notes for clarification squeezed between paragraphs or denoted further afield by an adjoining line. None of the five double-sided pages have been spared, almost no space left to note down resolutions or compromises.

Interestingly, two separate handwriting styles consistently show up on all pages. The first he recognises - Shadow's sharp, thin scratch of letters press deeply into the paper, leaving indents on the following pages. The second is unfamiliar, a bubbly print (in opposed to the bat's slanted cursive) that frequently alters the legal team's carefully constructed wording.

He can only assume it's the work of Miss Rose, and this deduction makes him uneasy.

The hybrid could read and write, but was unaccustomed to picking apart the superfluous vocabulary used in legal documents. As such, burying outwardly superficial clauses that could be used to discipline, suspend or remand the creature in custody at a moment's notice in his contract had been easy before.

Now, he had another going through with a fine-toothed comb. Every single clause, subclause or minor detention order had been highlighted for clarity, edited or deleted in Amy's outgoing print. Having likely gone through the contract together, Shadow will be aware of the connotations and be sure to scrutinize any suggestions the Commander may have to reconcile their disagreements.

He resigns himself to simplifying the contract when a light knock comes on the door, drawing his attention. It's easy to see the quiet hedgehog with a mug in hand through the ajar doorway, a benign frown on his muzzle and boredom dulling his crimson irises.

In his peripheral vision, Rouge turns in her seat and assumedly smiles, though Towers can't quite tell from the angle. The air feels thick as he meets the agent's eyes with his own dichromatic ones.

Both gazes narrow very slightly, denoting an awareness of the tenuous balance of power between them. Despite the arranged meeting and open doorway, the hedgehog hovers on the threshold, and the human can't quite tell if Shadow's mocking or showing respect for his authority.

Not that it matters; regardless of intention, there was still a meeting to hold. "Come in, Agent. Close the door."

The hedgehog does so, shutting the door with a soft click before taking a seat opposite. As the two agents discuss the slow return of feeling to Rouge's wings in hushed tones, he reactivates his computer monitor to load up the contract.

Ideally, he wants to live-edit the document and have it signed before they're dismissed, meaning ability training can start as early as next week. With the schedule one of the few things left untouched, that equated to twenty four hours a week on-site mentorship and a further ten to fifteen hours of paperwork, which would be completed back home if he wished.

He clears his throat and the pair go silent, waiting expectantly. Perfect. "Before we get into details regarding your… suggestions to the contract, we need to address your recent behaviour." Shadow's eyes narrow slightly, though to which part of the statement Towers isn't sure. "You had another guest last night, correct?"

"Correct." The reply isn't hesitant, nor does it sound concerned. He leans forwards on his elbows and waits for the hedgehog to continue of his own accord. The agent remains quiet, jaw tensed, and only continues after catching Rouge's questioning gaze. "Sonic came by for bowling. He does every other Thursday."

Towers nods slightly in acceptance of the truth, the abridged version that it is, and prompts him to continue. "Did you go bowling, Shadow?" More waiting as the ebony hybrid scowls in his general direction. The silence sits heavy between them, one the human is forced to break. "You were still here when he stopped by, yes? Did your guest let him in?"

"You already know." Another truth, though one Towers does not actively acknowledge. Instead he tilts his head very slightly and strums his fingers on the table, both impatient but willing to wait for the Mobian to explain. Seconds stretch into minutes as the pair stare each other down, Towers repressing a smirk that tries to curve his lips while crimson eyes bore deeply into his own.

Finally, Shadow concedes. A heavy sigh escapes his lips. "Yes. She did." A pause as he takes a drink of coffee, likely a moment to stabilise himself; by the time he talks again, the air feels lighter and easier to breathe. "They had an argument and he physically assaulted her, an act I walked in on. I punched him in the face and told him to leave."

"Ah, yes. A fair response, I suppose." He stops tapping the worn wooden table and looks contemplative, expression becoming flat. "Though to be honest, if she sexually assaulted my brother, I would have done the same, maybe worse. It's hard to know what you're capable of until something actually happens."

The hedgehog eventually grunts in understanding, though his teeth remain grit. Towers nods slightly and rests his forearms on the table before him, crossed loosely on the wood. "You understand that's a serious crime, I hope? Rape, made worse by the fact the boy's underaged? If Knothole had reported the incident to the relevant authorities-"

"Don't you dare threaten her!" The interjection is forceful, louder than necessary and accented by the harsh deposition of an empty mug on his desk. Keeping his expression level - somewhat accustomed to the agent's temper - Towers merely observes as Rouge lays a hand on her former partner's arm and casts him a simmering expression.

Shadow calms slightly, though his jaw remains tight, sending his Commanding Officer a death glare for only a moment before looking to the wall, arms folded defiantly across his chest. If Towers wasn't usually on the receiving end of Shadow's temper tantrums, he might find them amusing.

Right now, he felt like he might pass out. Not an authoritative move.

It's Rouge who speaks next, her tone calm and confident. "Should Knothole wish to exact legal action, they're welcome." She holds her palm towards her former partner to silence him as his head snaps back in rage, not needing to look at him to anticipate the movement. "Though any Mobian court will settle the case as another Heat-driven misconduct, dole out community service and offer the kid therapy, and she's no threat to anyone under Shadow's roof."

Towers snorts in amusement, drawing both pairs of eyes back to him. "Yes, a rapist and a biologically-engineered weapon of mass destruction. What could possibly go wrong?"

Pointed ears press back against the skull beneath as Shadow snarls, causing the Commander to rub the inner corners of his eyes with an exacerbated sigh. "Agent, I didn't bring it up to agitate you, but to make you aware. Your presence alone in that apartment block was enough to make half of the residents request transfers. How do you think they'll react to knowing someone who abuses children moved in with you?"

"One child," the bat chimes in before Shadow can respond in a much harsher fashion, though her own face is stormy now. "And with approval, I intend on visiting Tails to both assess the damage as well as determine if Knothole wants to press charges. If there's no police involvement, there's no charges. No charges, no-one in that building would think of her as such, would they?"

An aggravating point Towers can't refute, so he instead presses the discussion to its conclusion. "Given how thoroughly this contract has been edited, I assume you noted the section on surveillance and accommodation?" A look back to the hedgehog shows him to still be agitated, quills flexing and a grimace on his face, so he waits until Shadow nods once in confirmation to elaborate.

"Allowing video and audio surveillance to be placed in your home means peace of mind for worried parties. We can confirm neither of you are acting dangerously, and you both still keep your freedom." He twists his mouth in feigned uncertainty. "Though the Heat's started, hasn't it? Have you been using protection?"

Confusion passes across the hedgehog's face, as Towers predicted. "...I see. Then we'll also need to look into alternative housing. A single bed flat isn't going to hold two adults and a baby for long." He flips through the contract to the correct page and squeezes in a note. "I can request a paternity test, if you want to be sure it's yours. Oh, and I've already added Miss Rose to your private healthcare, given your relationship. You're welcome to bring her into the facility for a scan."

He finishes scribbling and places the pen down, turning his body towards the monitor and positioning his fingers over the keyboard, ready to type. "Now, let's discuss these proposed alterations."

oOoOo

With Towers gone to retrieve a copy of the altered contract Shadow finally allows himself to relax. He slumps in the chair, gently massaging his forehead where a twinge is beginning to manifest in an attempt to release the accumulated tension.

It's common to find himself agitated after an extended meeting with Towers. The human always seems hostile, drawing out the hedgehog's own suppressed aggressive nature with body language and speech alike. Though he honestly can't tell if the man does it intentionally or subconsciously - the response is consistent even after months without contact - it makes him dread scheduled meetings, even when Rouge is also to be present.

Life since retirement has been much calmer. He hopes this return to contractual work won't bring him into frequent contact with stressors again; the peace has been relaxing, if slightly monotonous.

More than anything (and despite Rouge's confidence in the courts) he knows from experience having an unresolved accusation hanging over your head can be problematic, especially when dealing with GUN. Towers' assertions regarding Amy's crimes have him worried; for once it isn't him being threatened, but someone he cares for. Somehow, that has him more concerned than when he's personally in the firing line.

A subtle movement of air beside him draws his attention, and he watches as Rouge carefully stretches out her wings behind them, thin membranes of skin flexing over lightweight bone. She cringes slightly, presumably at the last dull reminders of sedative leaving her system and nerves being reminded to function again.

He folds his arms across his chest and rests his cheek against the backrest as he regards her, slumped so far down in the seat his legs invade the space below Towers' desk. "Worse than usual?"

She glances to him as rejuvenated wings fold rapidly with a satisfying snap, a sure sign of agitation in the bat. "The worst," she states, face grimacing in memory. "Had some perverted obsession with my wings, wouldn't stop running his fingers down them whenever he got the chance." A shudder judders through her spine as she looks away. "Creepy bastard."

Shadow grimaces slightly in sympathy. Her Mobian targets were at least familiar with the bizarre anatomic quirks that accompanied different species, so while they might prefer a partner with wings they wouldn't creep on them, at most wanting to stoke or grasp them in the throes of passion.

Humans who wanted Mobian partners, however, were more prone to be of a peculiar nature, almost worshipping the physiological differences of their Mobian other half. That could lead to stange, obsessive behaviours; constant touching of appendages like wings, licking or sniffing of fur in public, caressing of ears and tails even when undesired.

Some Mobians actively sought out those relationships, finding the desire to be revered for what Chaos gave them a serious turn-on. Shadow has never experienced the phenomena personally, but the whole concept creeps him the fuck out, and Rouge is obviously not happy about the attention either. "Where'd you drop this one?"

"Face-first in a dumpster behind the club." He raises an eyebrow. "Even if he does remember how he got there, he's not going to tell his boss some Mobian tail drugged him and threw him in the garbage, Hon. No, he'll hand in the bad data and be halfway across the continent before the first drop gets disrupted."

Shadow grunts in acknowledgement, eyes closing as minutes crawl past in the coming silence. Amusement at Rouge's newest escapade takes the edge off his anxiety, a smirk on his muzzle until she flippantly adds "Plus, the guy's basically human trash. I did a public service, helping him get home."

The statement is enough to make him chuckle, a quiet recognition of the joke, and he's glad that if he has to be stuck in GUN headquarters, at least Rouge is there to keep him sane