Make sure we're never alone 'cause it could give me hope

If you stay too long when you're drivin' me home

So you call me a friend, again and again to try and forget

How we get too drunk and we get too close

Fallin' into each other when we already know

We could try to resist, to keep our distance

Call this what it isn't

This has more push than it ever had pull

We're inevitable

You and I, it's inevitable

(Oh-Oh! Oh-Oh! Oh-Oh! Oh!)

This was never in our control

(Oh-Oh! Oh-Oh! Oh-Oh! Oh!)

We're inevitable

Maddie Zahm – Inevitable

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ S ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The day Stone realizes he might be in deep trouble is the day he finds himself drawing a heart onto the doctor's latte.

As soon as his tired brain catches up with what he has just done he freezes, blinking down at the cup like a sleepwalker waking from a dream. In a sense, that is not is not even far off from the truth, he thinks with a wry twist to his lips. He only got around three hours of sleep in the past two days, testament to working by Robotnik's side to finish a presentation for their higher up until the early morning hours. He is basically operating on autopilot this morning.

Which wouldn't be a problem in itself; he is more than capable of going through a whole work day solely running on caffeine and stubbornness if need be.

It will only become a problem if he starts to draw freaking hearts onto the doctor's latte.

"Nope," Stone says sternly to himself while he reaches for a spoon and starts stirring the latte again, destroying all evidence of his sleep-deprived slip-up. Start over with something innocent and safe, instead.

Inspiration comes in the form of a Badnik beeping curiously at him. The drone has been hovering over his left shoulder the entire time he had been preparing the doctor's usual morning latte, and when he now sets about destroying his art, it beeps at him, a long, high noise which sounds suspiciously like a question.

"Hey, we both know he would let you shoot me when he found that in his latte," Stone informs the Badnik with a light laugh. "And that would only be fun for you, not for me, so."

Another beep, this time almost thrilling, as if the word shoot alone is something to be happy about. Stone shakes his head with a laugh and pushes the excited little drone out of his face so he can bend over the cup again, toothpick and milk ready to start another art. "Mind if I use you as a model, little one?"

He is fairly sure the Badnik does not really understand him, but he does not mind; he likes the little drones hovering around him and chirping at him, and he has fun interpreting their noises as any answer he deems fitting. Right now, he takes the thrills and chirps as agreement, and begins to sketch the drone's outlines onto the foam as quickly as he can before starting in on the details.

It takes him a little longer than he had really planned, and with already having to start over once, he ends up being slightly late. Carefully balancing the cup while he hurries down the hallway towards the lab, Stone checks his watch once more before pressing his hand against the lab door's mechanism. Too late, yes, but under a minute still. Depending on the doctor's mood, this is either going to be ignored or turned into a disaster.

Let's see which it is today.

When he enters the lab, a barrage of noise greets him. The music is cranked up to a level where every beat vibrates through Stone's entire body and makes his ears ring, and the entire thing is underscored by the metallic clanking of a genius hard at work.

The change from quiet and dark hallway into the noisy and brightly illuminated lab always takes half a second of adjustment, and Stone waits patiently until his eyes and ears have caught up with the program before he starts searching for his boss.

It is not particularly difficult to spot him today. The far-side of the room is entirely taken up with a half-finished model of a flight pod, suspended by strong cables to dangle from the ceiling. From under it, a pair of long legs is sticking out, and Stone can faintly make out the doctor's voice while he mutters to himself over something or other.

Center of the storm, Stone thinks with an amused quirk of his lips, and calls out over the noise, "Doctor? I'm bringing your latte."

There is one final clank and then a clatter when something is dropped carelessly to the ground before two hands appear beneath the edge of the flight pod. "Finally!" Wheels squeak in loud protest when Robotnik pushes the board with himself on it out from under the prototype with such a force he is nearly catapulted to the middle of the room. With a fluid grace not many would expect him capable off he jumps to his feet and is across the room in two great strides, all but ripping the cup out of Stone's hand while he glowers at his assistant. "You're forty-five seconds late, barnacle. Excuses?"

Stone blinks, and smiles, and holds the cup out and absolutely does not take in the sight Robotnik makes in a sleeveless shirt, flushed from exertion and his hair a mused mess. Damn sleep-deprivation, lowering his defenses against things like that. The agent can only hope his voice does not sound odd thanks to how dry his mouth suddenly is when he explains, "First time attempting to draw a detailed Badnik, doctor."

There is no sound of surprise from the doctor at that, no real change in his features – but Stone has been working for the man for over a year now, and he has trained himself to see; see the way Robotnik's eyebrow twitches a little, wanting to rise up, and how his gaze darts, very briefly, to the cup in his hand to check the truth of Stone's statement. See, very clearly, the exact second Robotnik's sharp gaze softens the slightest bit when he finds the realistic rendition of one of his babies.

The entire series of micro-expressions is there and gone in a blink, but Stone sees, and he has a hard time not to beam in pride.

"Hmph," Robotnik announces almost in the same second as his assistant triumphs, blowing a raspberry with an accompanying eye-roll while he whips around on his heels to stride back to his work. "Well, be faster next time; we're on a strict schedule here!"

There is no comment on any mistakes made on the Badnik-sketch; no criticism on this or that which should have been drawn a little bit differently. He really must have liked today's drawing, Stone thinks, glad that the other is no longer looking at him or he would have been caught grinning like a loon. "Of course, doctor. My apologies."

his words are waved off with a careless flick of the doctor's wrist; the man is already beginning to immerse himself in his work again, looking the flayed open prototype over with laser-focus while he sips on his latte slowly. A king surveying his kingdom, Stone thinks with a twitch of his lips, and turns to his own workstation, starting up the doctor's mails and calendar. He knows what is on the plan today, of course, since he always makes sure to memorize the doctor's entire week up until the last detail. But he needs to make sure Robotnik has not deleted the appointment while his back was turned.

Miraculously, the meeting is still where it should be, and Stone makes sure to utter a half-surprised sound as if he has only just seen it before he pipes up, "Doctor?"

"Mmmmh."

"Are we still up for the meeting with the higher-up for eight-thirty today?"

there is a loud, theatrical groan from Robotnik while he lets his head loll backwards, eye-roll so impressive that Stone is honestly surprised they don't just fall out of his skull. He is still biting back a smirk at the predicted theatricals when the doctor starts ranting, "You call that a meeting? That's like you're calling flea-ridden monkeys scratching each other's back a meeting. Or a bucket full of worms squirming all over each other. Everything but a meeting, Stone."

"The appointment, then," Stone soothes readily, then simply waits for an answer to his original question.

As excepted, Robotnik cools down soon enough when there is no more encouragement coming forth, and the genius grumbles and grumps, but finally actually turns his full attention to the conversation. "Didn't we only just have an appointment with them?"

"There was one scheduled, but we barely dodged it with an excuse."

"Right. How did we get out of the last one again? What did you tell them?"

"Experiment gone wrong and we had to stay and clean up the possibly dangerous mess."

"Yes, yes, that. Think we can pull that one again?" Robotnik looks almost hopeful when he joins Stone by the screen with the calendar still open, sipping on his latte while he takes a closer look at the appointment and the guest list with it. Stone tries and fails to not find the hopeful glimmer in the genius' eyes terribly endearing while Robotnik tacks on, "We could say I got injured in a freak accident – obviously caused by someone else's tech, not my own."

"Obviously." Because of course the doctor's inventions never backfired on him. Tucking the corner of his lips between his teeth so as not to laugh out loud, Stone thinks the proposal over before he sighs, truly disappointed. "It's a good idea, but I think if we do this twice in a row, they might want to send someone over to check if we're alright."

"Right. Damn it." The gleam in the doctor's eyes is snuffed out with the reminder and he glowers darkly at the hated screen. But even he cannot seem to think of a way out of this, so he sighs, runs a hand through his hair, spiking it up even more, and finally gives in with the face of man about to face his executioner. "Fine. Let's go lose some brain-cells while listening to idiots talk, Stone."

"Certainly, doctor." Stone waits until the doctor has taken three whole strides towards the door before he figures he has to say something, and points out very carefully, "Doctor? You might want to put your shirt back on."

"Hm?" Mid-step, Robotnik stops and blinks down at himself – dirtied white shirt with no sleeves, no coat, no gloves. He pulls a face, knocks his latte back in one go, and turns back around to stride back to his workplace where he left the needed items. "Obviously knew that, barnacle!"

"Of course, doctor."

Between the two of them, it takes no time at all to get everything ready. While the doctor males sure he looks his absolute, most intimidating best, Stone is left with the unspoken task of gathering the necessary notes and the doctor's laptop By the time Robotnik is done and emerges from the lab, Stone has already the car brought the car around and is holding the passenger door open for the other man.

Robotnik hums - not a thanks, never a thanks - and veritably launches himself past his assistant into the seat. Stone closes the door behind him and jogs around the car to the driver's side.

"We should arrive before everyone else at this rate," the agent explains while he buckles up and starts the engine. "By my estimation, you should be left with more than enough time to go over the whole presentation again if need be, doctor."

There is an annoyed grunt from next to him. Stone glances over from the corner of his eye to clock if it is a reaction to something he has said - and then has to bite the inside of his cheek to hold back his smile at the sight which greets him. Robotnik is squinting his eyes, holding a hand over them to fruitlessly try and shield them. Just when Stone watches, the man grunts once more, louder and more annoyed, and throws himself back in his seat, eyes screwed shut tight. "Fuck's sake, why is it so bright today!"

At the beginning of January with winter still stubbornly attempting to hold the world in its grip, the early morning sun is really not that bright. But that is what happens when one spends most of his days and nights in closed rooms squinting at holoscreens or blueprints illuminated only by artificial light. Robotnik simply is not used to natural light anymore, a fact which Stone has noted several times already.

Reaching over to adjust the sun visor in front of the doctor, Stone agrees "It is pretty bright today."

" Hmph . Don't repeat what I say all the time; reminds me too much of a trained parrot .," Robotnik replies without opening his eyes. "Just get us there fast, so I can go back to real work again soon."

"Of course, doctor." The insult roll off him like raindrops of a windowpane; he has long since learned that they are not necessarily personal and just how Robotnik talks to everyone. Smiling to himself Stone shifts the gear stick and takes off.

The sooner they arrive, the sooner they will be done, and the doctor can get back to his work.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ S ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Several people jump to the side when the door to the meeting room is flung open, banging against the walls left and right with ear-splitting noise.

Robotnik emerges from the room like a storm blowing in, face a thundercloud of fury. Stone follows hot on his heels, discreetly putting himself between the fuming doctor and the other attendees of the meeting pouring out of of the room behind them. One physical contact from any of those imbeciles right now could easily be the spark which lights the fuse, the last little nudge the doctor needs to blow up like an atomic bomb.

He is already way on his way there now. Nearly slamming against the far wall due to his momentum, Robotnik whirls around on his heels and immediately starts pacing, starts snapping out words at such a speed each syllable becomes a projectile, made to cut, made to hurt. "Three hours. Three goddamn hours of wasting my precious time, time in which I could have literally done anything at all and it would have been useful than listening to this blubbering, bumbling idiots with the IQ of amoebas!"

The last part is said loud enough that surely the entire group of people which had been attending alongside them can hear it. It is easy to tell by the icy glares being thrown the doctor's way.

Stone makes sure to meet a few of them head on, daring them to say something; he only turns back towards the doctor once he is sure everyone has ducked away to avoid his unnerving stare. Taking on a pleasant tone, careful not to sound too sympathetic, he soothes, "At least they cut the meeting short now, doctor. You have the afternoon free to do as you please."

At that, Robotnik stops sharply, then whips around to face Stone so suddenly that the agent nearly backs away in surprise when he finds himself the sole focus of that burning gaze in all its intensity. "Oh, they better had cut that clown's parade short," Robotnik hisses, power rumbling in his every word like faraway thunder even though he speaks barely louder than a whisper. "Or I would have made sure they will all be cut a head or two shorter."

An interesting mixture of alarm and eagerness surges through Stone and he takes a slow, deep breath. You see, most people mistake Robotnik's angry rants and loud outbursts as the dangerous side of the doctor, when it is actually the opposite: Never is Ivo Robotnik more dangerous, more powerful and more impressive than when he is utterly, icily calm. Nobody knows that better than Stone.

Nobody loves to see it more than Stone.

But as much as he admired the sight of a seething doctor, like this, Robotnik will not be able to work properly. A shame, really, considering he has the entire afternoon free to do as he pleases, so Stone attempts to lighten the mood a little. "Maybe next time you say exactly that during the meeting." He makes sure to let the corner of his mouth twitch up slightly to show he is joking. "We might get out even earlier that way."

A few quick blinks, and some of the fire in Robotnik's eyes dies out while his gaze flits over Stone's features; analyzing, prodding, then – understanding. Some of the fury melts from the doctor's face and he guffaws, dragging a hand over his face, the other limb snapping up to grab Stone by his cravat and pull him in until they are nose to nose and eye to eye. "You," the genius begins, voice still cutting, but closer to a purr than a hiss now, "just don't know how to be properly intimated , don't you?"

Well, Stone's heart absolutely jumped to his throat right now, but that had little to do with fear. Swallowing around the lump, forcing it back down, the agent manages an honest, "I'm very intimidated right now, doctor."

"Pffft." All of a sudden, Robotnik is gone, grip on the agent falling away and the doctor's presence moving out of his personal space so fast Stone stumbles forward and has to catch himself with a hand to the wall. Robotnik draws himself up to his full height, watching impassively while Stone rights and pats himself down again. "See to it that I won't be disturbed by any more of these meetings for as long as possible, Stone, or so help me, I will do something I will absolutely not regret."

"Consider it done, doctor." Brushing down his suit and buttoning up its jacket, Stone risks a careful glance at his boss. He still seems to be simmering with rage, but at least not close to exploding anymore. Careful to keep his voice slow and measured, Stone tries, "Doctor?"

"Mh."

"Would a latte help to calm down?"

A beat in which the doctor's face twitched – surprise, interest, something like eagerness flitting by, then "You brought a latte?"

"A whole thermos full, actually," Stone specifies, biting back a smile. He knew that would be a good idea for meetings such as this. "It's in the car."

"In the car. Why would you leave it in the car, instead of bringing it here," Robotnik throws his hands up and rolls his eyes, but it is a far cry from the very real fury he had projected only seconds ago. This, Stone knows without a doubt, is simply a matter of principle; ranting for ranting's sake. "Well, at least that gives us an excuse to leave as soon as-…"

In the middle of rounding on his agent, Robotnik suddenly stops, face going blank. Perplexed, Stone blinks first at the other man, then follows the doctor's gaze and turns to see whatever has caught his interest so suddenly.

On first glance, he cannot really make out anything special. There are still people milling in the hallway, either passing by or standing together in small groups for small talk. That couldn't be it, Stone frowns and lets his gaze wander further – until it settles on a familiar uniform, and the glint of medals.

He feels his eyebrows jump up at the sight. What is Walters doing here? He hadn't been part of the meeting…

Behind him, Robotnik blows out a sharp breath and moves, his clothes rustling with it. "Meet me back at the car, Stone."

"Doctor…?" Stone does not get any further with his question; by the time he has turned back around to ask why, where are you going, Robotnik has somehow already managed to vanish from his side. He only just catches the last glimpse of the doctor's coat tails, flapping dramatically before they vanish around the next corner. I always forget how fast he can be.

Stumped by the sudden disappearance – escape? - Stone only has time to wonder if he should follow at the same incredible speed but has no chance to implement the idea before his name is already being called. Biting back a sigh – throw me to the wolves why don't you – he steels himself and plasters on a pleasant smile while he turns to face Commander Walters. "Good day, sir."

"Agent," the Commander greets him jovially. His gaze immediately strays past him, towards the empty space Robotnik had occupied seconds ago. "Doctor Robotnik is not with you today?"

"He had pressing matters to attend to, sir," Stone replies without so much as blinking. "Is there a message I can relay to him for you?"

To his surprise, Walters' sighs so deeply as if Robotnik had managed to offend a few important people again (which he didn't; Stone would have known) and runs a hand through his graying hair with such a haphazard gesture it looks like he is this close to pulling on it in frustration. "The man really has a sixth sense for this, doesn't he?"

"…Sir?"

"Here," the older man pulls an envelope from his uniform and out between the dozens of medals hanging from it and holds it out for Stone to take. "Just. Give him this. And tell him he can stop avoiding me like the plague; I'm not going to repeat the mistake from last year and try to talk him into attending a party in his name for the occasion. God knows we all learned better than to invite him to anything closely resembling a social gathering after that."

Stone takes the envelope mechanically, mind reeling. Since he is in charge of all of Robotnik's correspondence as well as his calendar, he would know when there had been any attempt to invite the doctor to any "gathering" or some such. Yes, there had been some messages from Walters asking for Robotnik to contact him at his earliest convenience, but Stone had dutifully deleted those on the doctor's orders. As always. They had not been anything pressing. So why does he feel like he is missing something here?

"Is there something you needed to talk to the doctor about, sir?" He hates having to ask, but it does not look like he has much choice here. "if this is about the funding again, then I could always take a look at it in the doctor's stead, he authorized me..."

"No, no, don't worry not about the funding; that was waved through yesterday already," Walters shakes his head, apparently either not noticing or not caring that he had just interrupted. "No this is not work related, nor is it pressing in any way. I only wish he could be a little less childish about this."

Something squeezes tight inside Stone's chest then, something with teeth and claws and a protective streak a mile wide. There are many things he can deal with, a ton of insults he can take without blinking, but he will not stand for the doctor being made less than he is. A man like him – called childish by this imbecile? Grinding his teeth together so as not to snap at his superior, Stone spits out, "I don't think childish is a good way to describe-..."

"Oh please!" Walters interrupts for the second time, unknowingly knocking Stone's blood pressure up another notch. "How would you describe it then, if a grown man runs away from anyone who wants to congratulate him on his birthday? You would think especially he would not care about things like getting older, but apparently, he is more vain than he lets on-..."

Whatever inane mumbling else the commander spouts, Stone does not hear it anymore. A buzzing has taken over his mind, blood rushing in his ears while he takes that tidbit of information in. Birthday? The doctor has – why, yes, of course he has a birthday, but it is soon? And Stone had had no idea? No, more than that, he had had no idea for more than a year, meaning Robotnik had apparently celebrated his last birthday with the higher-ups and Stone had neither been informed nor invited to tag along. Doesn't matter that the doctor had also turned the whole thing into a fiasco; right now Stone can only focus on the fact that he had not known and had not been there.

I'm supposed to know things like this, right? Shouldn't he tell me things like this?

Well, no, actually. No surprise there, now that he thinks about it. Robotnik has always been a very private man; all they ever really talked about is work, or work-related. There is no reason to talk about things like… like this. Private things.

He shouldn't be surprised. He shouldn't be disappointed.

There is a lot of things he shouldn't be, but it doesn't seem to make a difference to how he really feels.

Distantly, he is aware that Walters is still talking. The constant droning on is suddenly all too much, and Stone finds himself blurting out Without thought "Excuse me, Commander, but I have to catch up to Doctor Robotnik now."

"...ah, yes of course," Walters blinks, startled over being interrupted, but catches himself quickly enough to nod tersely. "You do that. And relay to him what I told you, agent."

Stone has n' t heard half of what the man had been saying the past few minutes, but he nods anyway. "Of course sir."

Stilted goodbyes are exchanged and they part ways. Still feeling as if he is sleepwalking, dazed and far away, Stone makes his way down to the parking lot.

Predictably, that is also where he finds his suddenly MIA boss; Robotnik is leaning against their car, looking deeply engrossed in something or other he is typing on his wrist computer, but immediately snaps the device closed with a click as soon as his assistant approaches. "Took you long enough," he snarks while crossing his arms and shooting the younger man a derisive look. "Did you sit through an entire tea ceremony with the big boss or…?"

Anybody else would probably have been put out over being ditched like that and then also told off for it as if it is their fault, but Stone simply huffs out a breath and shakes his head, torn between amusement and a perplexed surprise. This man, really. He cannot help the slightly needling little comment lingering on his tongue, "You were in a hurry all of a sudden, doctor."

"Always am as soon as I see Walters coming my way." Robotnik waves his hand as if to shoo away the observation, then glances over at Stone quickly, eyes narrowing. "What? Got anything to say, sycophant?"

It's a challenge if Stone ever heard one and he instinctively knows that this is the genius asking how much Walters had really told him. Taking it all in stride without so much as letting a muscle in his face twitch and give him away, Stone calmly holds out the envelope he had been presented with. "The commander asked me to give this to you."

He lets Robotnik rip the envelope out of his loose grip without resistance and then watches while the doctor sneers down at the innocent piece of paper as if it is the reason for all of mankind's problems. There is no move from the genius to open the envelope. There is also no explanation forthcoming, so Stone assumes that Robotnik has no intent to tell him about his birthday at all.

He doesn't have to, he reminds himself sternly, it's none of my business.

Now if he only could believe it.

Shaking the feeling off as best as he can, Stone decides it is part of his job to cheer his scowling boss up a little, and adds casually, "The commander also said to tell you they all learned their lesson from inviting you last year."

That, at least, manages to immediately lift Robotnik's spirits; the previously pinched expression melts from his face like snow in the desert and he looks up with a crooked, truly wicked smirk and a gleam in his eyes which only promises mayhem and destruction. "Oh really? Too bad; I was almost hoping for the chance of a repeat performance."

Feeling himself start to smile as well in answer, Stone leans in closer, intrigued. "Can I ask - what did you do? He seemed terrified."

That might have been pushing it a bit, but since it helps to make Robotnik glow with obvious pleasure, really, who can blame Stone for laying it on thick? The doctor snorts loudly and stands straighter, hateful envelope forgotten for the moment while he explains, "Taught them a lesson, is what I did. Showed them why it is not a good idea to pull me away from my work for the sake of some inane gathering of the dumbest, most boring members of humanity, and that only because it is my…"

At this point, his inflamed speech falters, and the grin drops from his face. Stone realizes his mistake the same moment the doctor realizes his own; by tricking him into talking about whatever event had taken place a year ago, he had nearly gotten the doctor to talk about that birthday he absolutely did not want to talk about. Damn it. Helpless to do anything about it, Stone watches with a mounting sense of dread and disappointment how Robotnik's many, many defenses going back again, eager expression vanishing behind a shield made of haughty annoyance.

"...Whatever," is what Robotnik ends on, sniffing loudly and flapping his hand while he turns on his heel. "Get in the car, Stone. It is high-time we got back to work."

"Of course, doctor."

This time, he does not have to hold the door open for the doctor; Robotnik takes care of it himself, and makes sure to slam it closed on the way. Stone takes the half second he gets where he is unobserved to sigh quietly to himself and wonder when this day had begun to go so downhill. Just over a simple date. Just a birthday.

He should just forget about it entirely.

Yet again, he already knows he will not be able to do what he should .

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ S ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

In his defense, Stone does not really plan to break the rules... and several laws besides. When he boots up the computer and logs into the agency's database, he is only looking for certainty . Only a side note or a vague indication which backs up or refutes Commander Walters statement .

Granted, Stone does not dare to look too closely at why he wants - needs - to be sure. He tells himself it is only because it is part of his job to know about things like this. He cannot be caught off-guard by something he could have simply looked up, right? Right.

And yet... when he his search leads him only to a page with a blinking warning of "no results found", the disappointment and frustration is so deep that it is shockingly easy to spontaneously decide to break some laws.

Only a quick glance, Stone tells himself while his fingers fly over the keys, typing in command after command to trick the firewalls of the pentagon, cracking some passwords and sneaking via a backdoor into their database. Just to be sure.

It takes him a little under thirty minutes to get where he wants to be; a disgrace for the government's defenses, in his opinion. In record time, Robotnik's file opens up before him. Or, at least, most of it; more than eighty percents of it are blackened out, lines upon lines hidden behind black walls. Stone could change that of course, but he does not want or dare to. It is not what he is here for. He scrolls down only a little bit, past name and place of birth - the later of which he carefully does not read - until he finds what he is looking for.

17th January.

Five days from now. Walters was right. Mark the date, that will never happen again.

Leaning back in his chair, Stone blows out a breath, and runs a hand through his hair. Well. Now he has what he wanted, but... what to do with it? The safest thing would be to ignore it. After all, based on Walters' flippant remark and Robotnik's hastily beaten retreat, the doctor is not too fond of his own birthday, or at least not of others making a fuss about it.

But Stone does not want to ignore it. Birthdays are to celebrate a person, right? To show them that one is grateful for their existence; a I'm glad I got the chance to meet you.

Grateful does not even begin to describe what Stone feels for Robotnik and his chance to work with the brilliant man.

The decision is easy. Sitting up straighter, Stone takes on final look at the date, and begins to close the file and work his way backwards out the database, careful to cover his tracks so nobody would even notice he has been there.

Better hurry. He only has five days to find a suitable present for the doctor.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ S ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The 17h of January arrives much too soon in Stone's opinion.

With it come the nerves. It is almost laughable how anxious he really is; he has survived literal hails of bullets, has diffused bombs and taken hits for the people he was meant to guard, but he cannot recall the last time he was this nervous about anything. Choosing the gift already becomes the running of a gauntlet; wrapping it becomes almost impossible due to his trembling hands, and by the time he arrives at the lab on the 17th – way too early, way earlier than usual – he is close to changing his mind, hiding the box inside his suit for the rest of the day, and throw it away as soon as he gets home and never think about it again.

Oh stop it, he tells himself, and most of all his racing thoughts running circles around his mind. He is either going to wear them, or throw them away. No big deal.

Now if only I could believe that.

Shaking himself, he decides to use the extra time he has to slip into the lab's kitchen and prepare a latte to bring to the doctor when he goes to greet him. Hopefully it will serve as a peace offering should everything else go wrong.

Armed with a small package and a piping hot latte, he makes his towards the lab shortly after, straining to pick up on any noise which could tell him what kind of mood the doctor is in today. He thinks he can make out faint music through the soundproof walls, which usually points towards a good mood . Usually . That doesn't say much .

The lab's door opens with a quiet hiss once the security system has scanned his retina, and Stone ducks into the cavernous room beyond, already calling out, "Doctor?"

No answer. Which is not that surprising, considering the lights are flashing and the music is so loud Stone can feel it vibrating in his rib cage. He could shout himself hoarse and the other wouldn't hear him at all. He looks around and frowns when he cannot make out any sudden movements, no erratic dancing or dangerously fluent moves (not many people know Robotnik can move like that, and it always makes Stone flush a little to see it). Stone's searching gaze strays around the room, adjusting to the constant changing of of dark shadows and colorful lighting slowly until... There.

Robotnik is seated in front of his workstation with his back to the door, headphones on, one leg bouncing and his head bopping to a rhythm Stone cannot hear. Oh . Not just background music while he work s , then. This is a dance break-meet-work. The doctor had probably gotten a groundbreaking idea in the middle of dancing and sat down to take notes on it with the music still on full blast over the headphones .

Stone hesitates briefly in the door way, wondering if he should leave and come back later or risk disturbing the doctor. Ah, to hell with it. He will go crazy if he has to wait any longer at this point. Careful to move in a way which puts him in R obotnik's field of vision as soon as possible, he crosses the distance between them and stops at the desk next to the doctor's elbow, waving a hand slightly to try and catch the other's attention.

It works. Badly.

At the sudden gesture next to him, Robotnik basically jumps out of his seat, a startled yelp bursting out of him. The movement is so sudden that it catapults the chair sideways out from under the doctor, and with it gone, the last bit of his already precarious balance goes as well. With a flail of limbs and a loud crash, Robotnik tumbles to the ground in a heap.

"Doctor!" Heart in his throat, Stone abandons the cup and the package on the desk and dives over to the other man to help him back up. Before he reaches his target, the music cuts off with a screech, and Robotnik's voice is very audible now in the sudden silence, "I'm fine; no thanks to you, though!"

Stone flinches, barely stopping himself from grimacing. Not a good start to this morning already. "I'm – incredibly sorry, doctor, I really didn't mean-…"

"Well I sure hope you didn't." Getting back to his feet much more carefully than usual, Robnotnik utters an almost silent groan while he presses a hand to the back of his head. Only when he has reassured himself that he did not sustain any injuries in the fall does he slowly turn his piercing gaze onto his assistant, corner of his mouth turning down while he demands, "What is so important that you disturb me at-..."

In the middle of his rant, Robotnik's faze catches on the nearest screen and his eyebrows arch. "...Hm. You're early. Even for your standards."

"Yes, I actually..." He hesitates very briefly. Last chance to change his mind now. Now I'm just being silly, Stone berates himself with a head shake. Not letting himself dither about it any longer, he picks up the package and turns around. "I actually have something for you, doctor."

it is obvious that the sentence alone is a deviation from their usual script; Robotnik, already in the middle of righting his chair, pauses ever so briefly before he slowly lifts his gaze towards the hand Stone is holding out - and with it, the package. An uncannily sharp gaze takes in the small rectangle, wrapped in black glossy paper and decorated with red and golden ribbons, seems to all but x-ray the little item.

Then Robotnik opens his mouth, and everything starts to go downhill. "Wrapping paper and ribbons are only there to make messes and to please toddlers or people with the brain capacity of one."

Stone feels his smile slip, startled by the flatness of the doctor's tone, before he hurries to fix it again; he can tell he does not get it quite right. "Ah. I didn't know; else i would have foregone the-..."

"What exactly is this ," Robotnik interrupts him, gaze still on the package; he waves it for emphasis but makes no move to take it, "supposed to be S tone?"

This is going horribly wrong. Stone can see from a mile away that this will end in disaster if it continues, a bit like watching an accident happen in slow motion. He wants nothing more than to pull back, hide the present and leave, but the doctor has asked him a question, and there is no way he is getting out of this without an honest answer. "It's a birthday present. For you."

Finally, finally Robotnik looks up from where he has been inspecting the package as if it is a poisonous snake out to bite him, and meets Stone's gaze. There is a sneer on his face, a look of such derision and anger the likes of which Stone has not had directed at his person in over a year. The agent nearly recoils from it as if from a physical sensation but finds he is frozen to the spot, pinned down by that laser-like gaze.

"A birthday present, huh?" There is only scorn and derision in Robotnik's voice and he snorts loudly and without amusement. Before Stone can react, the doctor has ripped the package out of his loose grip and tears wrapping and ribbons of it with one decisive pull, paying no attention to the care it had been done with. The white lid of the box suffers the same loveless fate and is flung over the doctor's shoulder without hesitation.

Robotnik lifts the pair of sunglasses from their little nest of crinkly paper, slowly turning the accessory around to look at them from all sides. This way Stone gets another good look at them as well; sleek, black and elegant sunglasses, made especially sturdy, and designed to fit with the doctor's favorite outfit. They had seemed like such a good idea when he had come up with it, but now...

"Sunglasses," Robotnik speaks the word like someone else would have said dirt . "Explain."

He doesn't want to. He really, really doesn't want to. But like a puppet controlled by its puppet master - no. Like a robot reacting to the doctor's command gloves, Stone finds himself opening his mouth to answer, "I thought... since the sunlight kept bothering you so much. This seemed like a nice..."

"A nice birthday present for me?" The sunglasses are slammed back into the box with a clack ; it makes Stone jump the way a gun shot might have. One hand now free, Robotnik uses it to snap his fingers to get his assistant's attention again. "Which day is it today, Stone?"

"The 17th- of -…."

"Bzzzzzt, already wrong. The correct answer would have been: I don't care. You know why, Stone? Because I don't care. And neither should you. Dates, weekdays, birthdays – that all doesn't matter. All you need to know is which day you're to appear here for work, and which you aren't, and that is it. Do you really think I care about what day I was born on?"

During his rant, Robotnik had begun pacing; tight circles, back and forth and back and forth, right in front of his work station. A clear sign that he is agitated. Turning sharply on his heels, Robotnik stops right in front of his assistant and snaps his fingers impatiently under his nose. "You can answer, by the way. Speak up; enlighten me to your incredibly stupid reasoning for this. Do you think I care? Do you think anyone does?"

Honestly? Stone thinks that Robotnik cares – a great deal, actually. Else he would not be going off on him like he is doing right now. But that is not a good answer. And the truth - I do – is quite possibly even worse. Extremely dangerous on top of foolish. So he swallows both of those answers down and settles for apologetic instead, "Sorry, doctor. I thought-…"

"You thought," Robotnik snaps, cutting through Stone's sentences and making the agent flinch as if he has been hit. It sure feels like it when the genius goes on. "Thought. You keep mentioning that word, as if you know what it means. Alright, humor me, barnacle – what did you think, when you went and got me this? That I will jump in joy over a nice little accessories? That I will thank you profusely? Praise you? Maybe give you the day off, out of utter gratefulness? I don't expect you actually hoped for a raise from me, else you wouldn't have chosen something so cheap."

The sunglasses had cost him a small fortune, since they had to be custom-made to fit his very specific request. It hadn't mattered then; it doesn't really matter now. Money is not a problem , he had told himself when choosing the present, as long as he likes it. Swallowing through a too-tight throat, careful to keep his voice even and his expression impassive, Stone answers steadily, "I only thought that you might like them, doctor."

"I only thought," Robotnik repeats, voice high and mocking. He rolls his eyes and waves the explanation off like an annoying fly. "Listen here, stone – whatever you were hoping to gain from this little present of yours; delete it from your mind immediately. The only thing you're here for is work. Work, work, work. That's all which counts around here; that's all that counts for me. So focus on that, leave the thinking to me, and most of all – don't bring me things, except those I explicitly ask for. Going out of your way to fill my lab with trash won't win you any favors around here."

One last glance full of distaste at the sunglasses and Robotnik huffs out a breath with sounds nearly like a swear and chucks the package and its content to the side. It flies in a perfect arch before landing into the nearby trashcan with a metallic rattle.

In tandem with the crashing sound, Stone feels something inside his chest crack and fall.

Robotnik dusts his hands off and turns back to his workstation, calking his fingers imperiously. " Now that that's taken care off – bring me a latte, sycophant, and then get back to work."

He had not even noticed the cup Stone had set down on the table for him; too busy picking apart the present and the meaning behind it. Stone breathes in slowly, and out even slower. Gathers the pieces of himself back up and holds them together in a precariously shaking mask of composure and calm. "Right away, doctor."

Silently picking back up the untouched latte from the desk, Stone turns on his heels and leaves the lab, aiming his mechanical steps towards the kitchen.

He doesn't mind being sent away right now; no, he actually welcomes it. He is glad for the few moments where he can be unobserved. There is no one to comment when he stands there, staring blankly at the running coffee machine. No one to point out his shaky breathes or the way his hands tremble almost imperceptibly.

No one to see the thought circling in his mind.

What was I even thinking?