Um… I would make some fun jokes and whatever else, but I have a bat who is holding me hostage. So while I'm trying to escape these ropes (honestly, how tight did she do the knots?) Halo is in charge. It appears that she has temporarily abandoned me to help Rouge. Apparently, she still isn't completely over breaking her Manic.

Hey, judge her all you want, but that bat knows how to have fun. In fact, we've planned a whole jewel heist for next week! Can't wait for that breakfast at Tiffany's, Rouge!

If you show up on the news, no typing for a week.

Hmmpf.

"Can we start now?"

We need to do reviews!

"No." *Gags Oceanera12*

Now, Rouge, we talked about this. No unnecessary bloodshed.

"She's not bleeding."

*muffled yelling*

"See, she's fine. Now let's start."

Will do. Onward! (Sorry, Era. #sorrynotsorry)

*Glares*

Rouge's POV:

I was deep in Meerkat territory. It had taken me a little over three hours to find their boundaries, based on the different gang colors seen in each part of town- and believe me, there were a lot.

But even though I had found their borders, it was still going to be a challenge finding where they were keeping him. From what I had gathered about the Meerkats, they dabbled in drug trafficking, which didn't exactly require a set-in-stone base of operations. My guess was that they moved around to avoid suspicion- that would explain all the reports of arson in this neighborhood.

It was almost 7:30 now and annoyingly dark, making it all the harder to pinpoint where I was or which way I should be heading. But I had a basic idea of where to go- those boys never did take off their colors, did they?

I selected a shifty-looking weasel to trail. He walked briskly with his hands jammed in his jacket pockets and a limp cigarette hanging out of his mouth. He wore a dull blue beanie overtop his floppy gray fur. The only thing on his person that didn't look older than him was a shiny gold chain around his neck that glimmered in the dim illumination of the street lights. I found myself subconsciously plotting ways to pinch that chain; it just looked so… I needed it. But I needed to focus on tracking him for the time being. If my hunch was correct, this sap was my ticket to finding Maniac.

He walked erratically, nearly breaking into a run one moment then ambling along so slowly that I had to almost stop just so I wouldn't catch up to him and expose myself just yet. I was already feeling irritated with him; I didn't even have to talk to him to get that he was one of those people.

My patience was quickly wearing thin. I waited until he had rounded a deserted street corner before flying ahead and dropping front of him. He was so startled that he almost fell backwards, but I caught him by the scruff of his shirt just before he toppled to the ground and banged his head against the wall of a store just hard enough to leave him unconscious.

Lifting his limp form in my arms, I flapped my wings and took off in the air, scouting for a place to settle. I spotted a foreclosed office building that was scheduled to be torn down in a week and flew in through an open window, dropping the weasel unceremoniously on the floor.

I reached into the inside of my jacket and groped around for the right pocket. I found it, unzipping the pouch and extracting my personal set of handcuffs I had invested in during my jewel heist with Maniac. This was as good a time as any to use them- can't say I haven't been looking forward to it.

I fastened one end of the cuffs tightly onto the weasel's wrist and the other end on a loose steel beam that had broken off the worn-down building. Just in time, too- he was beginning to stir. Let the fun begin.

His eyes blinked open. "Wha… who…" He caught sight of me and gulped, obviously realizing whose presence he was in.

"Morning, sunshine. You'll be a dear and answer some questions for me, won't you?" I asked sweetly.

The interview wasn't very satisfying. Apparently this one had more guts than the other gang members because no matter how many times I threatened him with death and smacked him until he was getting close to losing consciousness, he wouldn't talk. So after about twenty minutes of no progress, I decided to make a phone call.

After three rings, a very annoyed, "What?" was heard. I smirked to myself and told my prisoner I'd be watching him. I turned away and responded, "Hiya, partner. Just wanted to thank you for leaving me in the rain."

Shadow's annoyed huff was all I got in response.

"It's not very polite to leave a lady like that."

"Is that all?"

"No. I need a favor."

"What kind of favor?"

"It's very simple and very easy. It should take about ten seconds for you. Just come to my coordinates in the next thirty seconds."

Lucky for me, he was in a semi-good mood. Must have still been awake.

Imagine my delight when the weasel let out a startled shout when a bright flash filled the room. It was even better when the light clear and revealed the black and red hedgehog. The face went from shocked to horrified.

Shadow took one look at the tied up weasel and my smug expression, and knew exactly what I wanted.

"No." he said bluntly.

"Please?"

"No."

"Come on, stripes, you're so good at it!"

"Do not call me that. And no."

"Come on, you know you love it! And if that's not enough for you, tell you what- I'll let you off the hook for leaving in the rain. By myself. Now doesn't that sound nice?"

"... Fine."

Needless to say, it took exactly 8.6 seconds for Shads to get the weasel to squeal. It was rather humorous to watch; Shadow walked up real close to him, not saying a word, and just stared at him. I could see the sweat rolling down the weasel's face. Silently, Shadow summoned a chaos spear and held it against his throat.

"Talk."

"OKAY, OKAY, I'LL DO WHATEVER YOU WANT, HONEST!"

I smiled. That's more like it. "Thank you, Shadow, that'll do. See, I told you it would be easy!"

Shadow grumbled something inaudible and disappeared in a flash of light. Good 'ol Stripey.

I turned back to the weasel. "Now… are we ready to cooperate?"

He nodded.

"Good. Spill."

He proceeded to inform me that my instinct was correct; the Meerkats had kidnapped Matthews, and were currently holding him hostage in in order to extract information from him about the Strikers. Unfortunately, he hadn't been talking, and the last time the weasel had seen him (about two days ago), he was out cold. The weasel hadn't checked up on the Meerkats since then, but with what they had in store, Maniac had to have cracked by now.

"What exactly are they planning?" I asked.

He shrugged. "Not sure. Rick mentioned something about using our store of acid to help break him, but that could kill 'im, so they might jus' try to get him drunk and have him snitch that way." He had become steadily more comfortable blabbing about his "friends"- not that I'm complaining. Knowledge is power, and free knowledge means no annoying power struggles to deal with.

"Where are they keeping him?"

For the first time, he hesitated.

"I can always call back my 'special friend' if we need any help getting answers," I said gently, pulling out my cell phone.

"HE'S IN THE BASEMENT OF THE AUTO GARAGE ON NIKKIE STREET! I DON'T KNOW NOTHING ELSE, I SWEAR IT! DON'T KILL ME!"

"Of course not, hon! You've been too helpful. Thanks a bunch!" I said cheerfully, spreading my wings to leave.

"W-wait… ain't you- ain't you gonna lemme out now?" he asked timidly.

"Mmm, I don't think so. I'm sure a smart boy like you can figure his own way out, right? Toodles!" I ignored his whines for assistance as I made my exit; the helplessness of that second-rate stool pigeon was too funny for words.

The auto garage wasn't too difficult to find- now that I knew where I was headed, the mission was almost cushy.

I reached into my jacket and unwrapped a bejeweled silk scarf, covering my head and part of my face. Barging into the garage, I brushed past who I assumed to be the head mechanic, a thirty-something chipmunk reading a magazine.

"Hey- hey, you! You can't go in there, get back-" His request was cut off by me kicking him swiftly in the groin and tossing him across the room. I didn't need any distractions right now.

Grabbing the set of keys that had fallen out of his pocket, I scouted around for what might be the door to the basement. I found it tucked away in the corner of the shop- locked, as I had predicted. The keys were a perfect fit; I pushed through the door and darted down the stairs, a whoosh of brisk air greeting me. The stairs led to a poorly lit square common room with a dingy beige carpet. Scantily decorated, the few pieces of furniture the room held were obviously stolen. I was not impressed.

I peeked into the door leading away from the common area; just storage space, packed with suspicious-smelling crates and packages. I wondered briefly what could be inside them and if they might be of any worth, but the pungent smell of chemicals reminded me of what the Meerkat's business was. I shut the door.

My fists were clenched in anger; that idiot weasel had lied to me! I was glad that I hadn't let him go- when I got my hands on him-

Suddenly, I perked up. Just as I was about to head back up the stairs, the sounds of pained groans met my ears in the direction… of a broom closet. Huh. Worth a try.

I walked back over towards the closet, when a deep, husky voice sounded out. I stopped dead in my tracks, slowly inching my way to the door, careful not to make a sound.

"Rise 'n shine, Maniac. You've been out a long time." Matthews, or who I assumed to be Matthews, groaned in reply.

"Doesn't feel too good, huh, Maniac? Maybe if you had told us what we wanted to hear a few hours ago, we wouldn't be where are now. But you're a big kid. I know you can take it. … Rick, get up, Maniac's awake."

"Hrrmm? Oh, yeah, good. We gonna…"

"Yep. You got it on you?"

" 'Course. Wait a sec… yeah, here."

"Open up, Maniac… Swallow it. Swallow it, already!"

Another loud groan; sounds of coughing. I'd had enough. When I busted through to the broom closet (which was much larger than I expected it to be), the smile was wiped clean from my face when I saw what the hunched figure between the two men I had heard talking. It was small, its head bowed and limp green quills falling in front of its face. Its hands and feet were tied to a chair; I recognized the ratty gray jeans and dark red vest all too well.

I had found my Maniac.

"What the- Who in Chaos are you?" cussed one of the men, flustered and surprised. I ignored him, making a beeline towards Matthews. They tried to block my way; big mistake. I picked one up by his throat and tossed him like a bag of rocks onto the gritty cement floor. The other I punched in the gut as hard as I could, hearing the faint sounds of cracking ribs and throwing him on top of the first one.

Maniac was hunched over, conscious but only barely. He was trembling, his eyes fluttering open and closed. I bit back a startled gasp at the sight of his bloody, messed-up face; his nose, forehead, lips, and chin were coated with dried blood, and both his eyes were puffy and lined with circles of dark red, purple, and brown, so opaque it seemed for a moment like some sick form of makeup. The quills that fell in front of his once-bright blue eyes were greasy and matted with blood and sweat; his split lips were bleeding freely, and his cheeks and chin were spotted with bruises in various shades of purple and brown. The front of his shirt was stained with splotches of blood and his chest was heaving, and already I could tell that at least two of his ribs were fractured or worse. I brushed back his shaggy green quills, feeling an unfamiliar pang of discomfort in my gut.

"You got hit bad, didn't you?" I said softly, more to myself than anything. Suddenly, I remembered that the rats I had just beat up had force fed him something before I intervened. I turned to the two men in the heap in the corner.

"What did you do to him?"

The larger of the pair, a scruffy brown squirrel with buck teeth, looked up. "Nothin'."

I sprang to my feet, speeding at an unnatural pace to where he laid. I grabbed him by the collar and leaned in close, gritting my teeth.

"I'm going to ask you just one more time, and if you feel like leaving this basement alive, you'll tell me the truth: What. Did. You. Do?"

He gulped, meeting my gaze, then looking away. "Dunno what you're talkin' bout."

I clenched my fists ever tighter, my fingers creeping towards the pressure points on his neck. "You gave him something. You've done something to him. I can kill you in three seconds and get away scot free." His eyes widened, realizing I was serious.

"You- you're bluffing," he said weakly. My nails dug into the soft flesh of his neck.

"Okay, okay, fine! We boozed him up, 'kay? To get him to talk! But that stubborn 'lil faggot still wouldn't say anything, so we gave him a little acid to open his mouth! Lemme go, ya crazy-"

I dropped him. Oh, no. This was bad. This was very, very bad.

I had to get him out of here, fast. Quickly, I ungloved my right hand and used a talon-like fingernail to slit the ropes tying Matthews to the chair. Once the bindings had been cut and his wrists and ankles were free, Matthews fell forward into my arms with groan. I picked him up in my arms as gently as I could while still keeping a good hold on him, speed-walking out of the broom closet and up the basement stairs.

You know, on a normal day, I'm really quite a reasonable person. Really, I am. But when I am in the middle of something very important and several angry-looking boys in Meerkat colors make the unfortunate decision of physically confronting me, I am not responsible for their injuries. Even with my arms occupied with Matthews, my legs alone were sufficient weaponry in forcing my way outside. The few that tried to run after me were rewarded with the swift kick of justice. I flapped my wings and rose up to the open air. I had to get Matthews to somewhere safe- if he died on me (which was extremely possible at this point) I'd never stop feeling guilty because I wasn't able to pay him. And we couldn't have that, now, could we?

I laid Matthews down on the guest bed and ran to the first aid cupboard. This wasn't your run-of-the-mill plastic kit you'd buy at the drugstore, though; this was hospital-grade medical equipment, and at the moment, absolutely necessary.

First thing to treat was his head. It was plain that he had a concussion; how bad, I wasn't sure yet, but I had a bad feeling. Never before had I been so grateful for my training in combat medicine from all those years ago.

I won't explain the entire process out of respect for the squeamish, but I did everything I could to try and patch him up. I applied hot and cold compresses to his head and chest to bring down the swelling, and cleaned up most of his wounds with an antibiotic sanitizer.

Matthews had either lost consciousness or fallen asleep when I came in after washing my hands, which made it easier for me to dress his concussion and various bruises. It was more likely that his ribs had been fractured rather than completely broken now that I had time to get a decent look at them, which was good; the nearest hospital was a half an hour away and Matthews was too fragile to move.

Maybe I should be explaining to you why I was so panicked. Don't know if this is common knowledge where you come from, but alcohol plus any kind of drugs taken close to the same time equals very possible death. Combining that with all the injuries he sustained over the last few days that had gone untreated, it would take a miracle for Matthews to make it out of this in perfect health. I could make sure he survived, but I guaranteed there'd be scars- bad ones.

He'd been asleep for a few hours when I heard his familiar groans coming from the guest room. I walked in to check up on him and was shocked to see him sitting up in bed. He was holding his bandaged head with both hands, shaking slightly.

"Where… am I?" he asked, his voice loopy and erratic.

"You're at my house." I said, stepping into his view. He sort of stared at me for a while; his dull blue eyes strangely piercing. Slowly, he stretched forth his hand, swiping at air.

"Are you wearing… a… wizard's hat?" he asked.

Lovely. The LSD's kicked in.

"No, I am not." I said bluntly and clearly. "Go back to sleep."

Matthews didn't appear to have heard me. He was blinking rapidly as though he was staring at something bright, even though the only source of light was a dim lamp on the table next to the bed. His hands were shaking violently, and slowly, very slowly, he was moving to get up.

"No," I said firmly. "You need to rest. Get back in bed."

Again, he ignored me, and started tiptoeing to the door. I stopped him, but he tried to fight back.

"Fool, you've doomed us all!" he shouted, startling me. He stared at me in horror, as if I were some horrible monster.

"What in the world-" I said, grasping the back of his shirt in an attempt to keep him from running off. My grip slipped as he tore out of my reach and down the hall and attempted a clumsy somersault.

"Sta- stay away! Go away!" he yelled, backing away from me in terror.

"Calm down, Matthews. You're okay. Everything is okay," I said gently, trying not to stimulate a delusion that he'd find frightening. I'd seen how LSD works on others more times than I'd care to admit: you see things that aren't there, you hear things that aren't real, and your imagination goes off-the-wall insane. It's an awful thing to watch, especially when the person who's high starts envisioning scary or dangerous things and panicking. That seemed to be the case for Matthews; I had no idea what he was hallucinating, but whatever the drug had done to him, it was freaking me out.

My attempt to help him regain some peace of mind seemed to work- for about a minute. I was more than a little surprised when he grabbed me by the shoulders and stared at me with a manic grin.

"Bucky! It is you!" he exclaimed.

"Who the heck is Bucky?"

Matthews released my shoulders, staring off into space. He whipped around, sprinting down the hall before tripping and falling on his knees, gripping the floor and breathing heavily. "Can we… slow… slow down... please? I can't… I can't breathe.."

I'm going to stop trying to understand what he's imagining. It's too much of a headache.

His outbursts began following a sort of pattern after a while, ranging from him living out a movie scene to shouting to how we're all gonna die and it was his fault. At one point, he climbed on top of my coffee table and started screaming at the top of his lungs about how he was Tarzan, King of the Jungle, then froze for an entire minute before suddenly blurting out 'It's a Trap!', whatever that's supposed to mean. Then he fell on his back and began mumbling about giant killer bees with lasers.

It was a good thing I wasn't a person who needed too much sleep to function, because that night I hardly got any. Most of my time was spent keeping Matthews from either killing himself or wrecking my house- and I think I knew why they called him 'Maniac' now. I knew it was probably just the acid at work, but that boy is the single most random person I have ever met. Over the course of about five or six hours, he jumped from spaced-out bliss to trying to ward off the 'screaming rainbows' to huddling in a corner crying like a child (Matthews was a lot of things, but he wasn't a crier, I knew that much). I was tempted several times just to whack him over the head and have him sleep off the drug, but the angel on my shoulder reminded me that with all the head injuries he had already sustained, knocking him out might result in him never waking up.

So I stayed patient with him. If he started screaming about how he was 'dying', all it took was for me to ask him why he felt that way, and after a few minutes of almost incoherent explanations, he'd usually be alright. Half the time, he was confused and kept asking me to make the colors and sounds go away or he'd go insane, so I had to keep reminding him that he was on drugs and none of it was real, he'd be alright. I don't even think Matthews recognized me; every time we made eye contact, I was someone else, some new identity he had hallucinated or remembered.

"Hello, Dumbledore, have you come to give me my letter?" he asked serenely.

I took personal offense to this. Scuse me, but I look nothing like an old man with beard and a magic stick. Out of nowhere, he shouted 'CONSTANT VIGILANCE', startling me for a moment before I picked up a magazine to distract myself from his indecipherable chatter.

When I looked up about four minutes later, he was gone.

Lovely.

"Matthews, if you're hiding again, I swear to Chaos, I'll-" I caught a glimpse of green in the guest bedroom and popped my head in.

Somehow- I have no clue how he did this- Matthews had broken into my wall safe I had behind the painting of the camellia, cracked the code, and stolen my gem. I was half infuriated and half impressed; I mean, how many people have you met that are so good at what they do that they can do it while so high he's practically walking on air?

"You. Give me my gem." I said firmly, pointing to him. He was crouched down, clutching the jewel tightly. He looked at me and shook his head.

"My… precious…"

Sweet Chaos, how invested in pop culture was this boy?

"No. You will give my gem, right now." I said. "Drop it."

"Precious…"

"It is not your 'precious'. You're hallucinating again. Drop. The gem."

I expected him to keep resisting, but instead he just stared into the gleam of the jewel's surface, his eyes widening. He threw it across the room, scooting back against the wall in hysteria.

"Get it away! I don't wanna die! Get it away, it hurts! I'm sorry, Locke! I didn't mean to- I should've- I… I…" He lunged at my hand, grabbing it and staring up at me helplessly, trembling uncontrollably.

"Hurry! We gotta help him, please! He's dying! I can't make it stop, and… and… please…" His voice trailed off into a string of strangled sobs. So he wasn't kidding when he said he didn't like jewels. Huh.

Fortunately, around the seventh or eighth hour, the more intense delusions began to subside, replaced by bouts of dizziness where he couldn't even walk straight, and occasionally abrupt bursts of emotions, from what I could gather was mostly fear and sadness. I could hardly calm him down before he lapsed back to muttering about his Mom and Dad and fire and someone named 'Maurice'. (What movie was that from?)

According to the web search I had made, the effects should start to be wearing off about now. I waited until he was in a more peaceful mood before leading him back to the guest room to sleep off the rest of the acid, surprised by how open he was to suggestion now that the more extreme reactions had eased off. His wince when he laid down on his side reminded me of his injured ribs; yet another reason for him to rest up. Luckily, he fell asleep quickly, exhausted by the escapades of the last several hours.

Now that you mention it, I was feeling a bit drowsy myself. I yawned; time for me to get some long-awaited beauty sleep.

"Good night, Matthews," I said quietly. "Get well soon."

The bright light streaming through my open curtains awoke me. My alarm clock informed me that it was late morning, almost noon; I had slept at least eight hours, and felt much better.

The sounds of muffled talking reminded me that I still had a guest here. I didn't expect Maniac to be up at all yet, but it seemed like he decided to be an early riser. Then again, I didn't have anyone else in the house, so he was probably talking to himself. Not a good sign.

"Matthews? You awake?" I called. No answer.

I walked to the guest room and creaked open the door. Matthews was still asleep (he was in bed with his eyes closed), but was murmuring something incoherent. Chaos, if it was possible to have an LSD episode in your sleep…

"Nyyrrfffugamdoo… no thanks, I don't like bananas..."

Fun fact that I didn't really care to know... "Matthews? Are you alright?"

"... don't worry, Sonia, I won't be late, I promise…"

Okay, so he talks in his sleep- loudly. Great.

I won't bore you with the details of the next day and a half. Matthews was asleep basically the whole time, talking loudly and in random bursts. Luckily, he wasn't sleep walking- probably due to the fact that he was almost too weak to move. I'd forced a few vitamin supplements down his throat instead of trying to feed him myself (Note to self: Never become a nurse), so I knew he was healing. I just didn't know when he'd be back in his right mind.

The funny thing I'd noticed about him was that he talked the same way whether he was awake or asleep: in short, random spurts of nonsense or in one-sided conversations; topics included mostly things about his gang, his "Uncle Chuck", and some girl named Sonia who I assumed to be an ex-girlfriend or something. Gag me.

"Matthews, get up for a second. I need you to take the pills again," I said, shaking him gently. If he didn't take the supplements, he'd starve, and I was so notprepared to handle a dead body (not anymore, at least).

He stirred, but didn't awaken. "... Go 'way, Uncle Chuck, I don't wanna go to school…" he said, his voice muffled by the pillow.

I rolled my eyes. Not this again. "Get up, Matthews," I said wearily.

"... make Sonia do it…"

Welcome to my life of the last few days. I knew that it wasn't Matthews's fault that he was in this state, but that didn't stop me from feeling completely and utterly frustrated.

Until he finally woke up.

Matthews's POV:

I didn't know where the heck I was, why I was covered in bandages, or even if I was alive, but on the bright side…

On the bright side…

I got nothing. Where was I?

I blinked for a while to get used to the bright sunlight streaming through the window, taking in the cityscape laid out before me. If my deductions were correct, I was somewhere uptown. Huh. I kinda always assumed that my personal heaven would be in the Striker's neighborhood.

Unless I wasn't in heaven.

Oh Chaos.

But if that was the case, then the other place was pretty nice, all things considered. I took a look around the room I was in; plain white walls, one with a painting of a dark pink flower hung up. A shut closet door was on one side, windows on the other; I was sitting in a large, comfortable bed with clean white sheets.

"Toto…" I said out loud to myself. "I don't think we're in Kansas anymore."

I tried to sit up and winced in agony; what the heck happened to my chest? It was wrapped loosely in gauze and stung every time I took a breath. Come to think of it… what happened to the rest of me? I had the worst headache of my life, the room was spinning slightly, and my entire face felt like a pincushion being stabbed repeatedly. Maybe this would be my eternal torture: Spending all eternity in a beautiful room but being in too much pain to raid the place.

That's really, really mean.

"Are you still delusional?" called out a voice from out of the room.

The heck... who was that, the guy at the pearly gates? Crap, I'm screwed. How many sins do you have to have committed to get locked out of heaven? Let's see, I've lied, I've cheated, I've stolen, I've assaulted police officers, I've gotten into fights that send people to the hospital, I once pushed a guy off a- you know what, let's just stop there.

"Um… sir?" I said as loudly as I could without recoiling in pain from my chest. "If you're, like, the guy in charge or whatever, I'm really sorry! And I'd like to repent now!"

"What?"

Weird. The voice obviously belonged to a woman… I kinda always thought the pearly gates guy would be, y'know, a guy. But hey, the times they are 'a changin.

"Yeah, like, if it's not too late or anything, I'd like to be forgiven or something like that. Is that allowed?"

There was no answer, just a bunch of loud grumbling. Ooookay, then. "Um… do I need to have referrals to get in or am I going to be judged straight off and sent to… you know. There."

"I'm sorry, are you awake?"

I stretched my hands in front of me, "Um… well, can you sleep when you're dead?... Oh geez, I never thought of this before. Why didn't I think of this before? And now I'm dead, and it's too late and- HOLY COW."

In the doorway stood a tall white bat who was crossing her arms grouchily and pursing her lips. I knew her… we were… friends? No, that didn't sound right. What was her name again? Something with an 'R'... Rachel... Raina… Rose… Maybe Rose? Sounded right…

Wait.

She's a bat.

Her name is something with an 'R'.

She's looking at me like she wants to skin me alive.

I KNOW THIS PERSON.

"... Rouge?"

"Rise and shine, sleeping beauty. 'Bout time you got up," she said gruffly.

I didn't answer; a million questions were running through my mind, and it was making my head hurt even more than it already was.

And then I punched myself in the stomach.

"OW!" I shouted, keeling over and holding my agonized sides in pain.

"What in the- why'd you do that?" asked Rouge, bewildered.

"I was testing to see... if I was a ghost. Clearly… clearly I am not." I said, gasping out the words. "Chaos, that hurts… what the heck is going on here?"

"That's what I wanna know. You're the one who got yourself so beat up, not me," she said dryly.

"What're you talking about?"

She took a deep breath. "Kay… I don't know how to put this gently, so I ain't gonna try. I found you at the Meerkat's base after they drugged you-"

"They what?"

"...and I brought you here. You're welcome."

"Back up, back up- I was drugged?"

"Yup."

"By the Meerkats?"

"Yup."

"And you brought me to your house?"

"Yup."

"... Why?"

"Why do you think?" she asked as casually as if we were discussing the weather. "The nearest hospital was a half an hour away from the Meerkat's turf. It was easier just to bring you here."

"That's not true." I said, shaking my throbbing head.

"Oh, really?"

"There's a charity clinic just south of Nelson-Briar Avenue. I go there all the time after fights."

Rouge stared at me with an expression that was difficult to pin; a sort of mixture that was part disgust, part confusion, and (if my intuition was correct) pity. Oh, great. Just what I've always wanted- the girl I like thinks of me as charity case. Smooth, Matthews. Real smooth.

"I wouldn't send my worst enemy to one of those holes," she said flatly, crossing her arms. "Besides, they wouldn't have been able to help you much, not with all the damage those douchebags did to you."

"Try me."

She huffed, annoyed but patient. Huh. She never struck me as the patient type- but I was beginning to sense a spark of warmth inside her; Caring. Kindness.

"Seriously," I asked again. "What'd they do?"

Rouge took a deep breath. "Have you ever heard of LSD before? Or acid?" she said, not looking at me.

My blood ran cold. Holy cow.

She continued. "I found you just after they gave you the drug. You were passed out and I'm pretty sure almost dead, so I got you out of there. You slept for a few hours before the LSD kicked in. Then all hell broke loose."

I buried my face in my hands. "What happened?" I groaned. I'd seen guys on psychedelic acid trips before- good trips and bad ones, and believe me, the bad ones are nothing funny.

"How bad was it?" I vaguely recalled some flashing colors and ear-splitting shrieks, but I had assumed that it was just a bad dream…

"You don't wanna know."

"Yes I do, that's why I asked."

"Well, I don't wanna talk about it."

"Why not?"

"Because I don't. Shut up and rest."

I was tempted to keep arguing about it, but she had a point; I was exhausted and in agony at the same time. Sleep sounded nice...

I woke up to the sounds of voices outside the door. I had no idea how long I'd been out, but it must've been a while because the sunshine had been replaced by looming dusk. My head still ached and everything was a little blurry, but I did think I was feeling a bit better.

I caught the remnants of a conversation in the background and perked up my ears. It was definitely Rouge on one side, but the other belonged to a stranger speaking in gruff monotone.

"... you have been? Everyone is wondering what in Mobius happened to you," said the unfamiliar voice.

"I've been busy, 'kay?" she replied. "It's my life, Stripey. If I wanna disappear for a couple days, I can. So sue me."

"Do not call me that. I am only asking because the hedgehog mentioned that you had robbed a jewelry store again. And then you go and disappear. That raises the question if you have been lapsing back to your previous criminal tendencies."

"So what's your point?"

"Have you?"

"Have I what?"

"Do not play dumb with me, Rouge. Have you or have you not begun breaking the law again?"

"No comment."

I stifled a snicker. She was caught and for some reason I found it hilarious. Dunno why, but the thought of Rouge under interrogation just made me smile.

"Hmmf," said the voice. I felt like he was rolling his eyes.

"Is that all?" asked Rouge sweetly. "Goodie! Now get out of my apartment."

"You are hiding something."

"Show me your warrant, officer."

"I am the Ultimate Lifeform. I do not need a warrant. You are hiding something that you obviously do not want revealed."

"Yeah, like you know so much- the heck are you doing, Shadow? Where are you going?"

At the mention of 'Shadow', the color drained from my face. Holy crap. This guy was with the Black Arms.

Kay, explanation time: back when I was still in Westopolis, these weird scary aliens who called themselves the Black Arms invaded and this guy popped up and started shooting everything in sight. I hid in a basement. Didn't get a reading on him for two reasons; number one is that he was shooting everything in sight what do you want from me, and number two is that he is legit impossible to read. They say the eyes are the window to the soul- I only saw his for a second, but let me testify that his were twelve-foot thick steel alloy safes with a combination lock that not even I can crack. I kid you not.

And now he is searching the house for me.

Crap.

I had to hide. Frantically, I scanned over the guest room for somewhere, anywhere, that I could bunker down in until this horrible scary person left forever. To the side of the bed was the closet; perfect.

Inching my way out of bed and swallowing my winces of pain, I tiptoed over to the closet and tried the handle- locked. Challenge accepted.

I reached into one of my quills and groped around until my fingers found a bobby pin (Rule of Urban Survival: Whatever you do, never ever ever leave home without some form of lockpicking assistance. Trust me on this). I jiggled the metal end in the lock for a few second before it popped open. Quick as a flash, I ducked inside, shutting the door closed. On the inside-knob was the lock button that should've been on the outside. Clever. I locked and huddled down, hardly daring to breathe.

"Come on, Shady, don't you trust me?" said Rouge innocently.

Silence.

"Okay, stupid question. But there's really no need to search my- why are you going in there? Shadow!"

I heard the door open and held my breath. If he found me, what the Meerkats were capable of would look like a schoolyard brawl. This guy can summon magic green spears.

Rouge must have been shocked that I wasn't in the bed and didn't respond for a few seconds. "See, nothing to see?"

"Who was sleeping here? The bed is mussed."

"Um, me. Who else?"

I heard some scuffling as I guessed Shadow looked under the bed. I gave a grateful prayer that I chose not to hide there.

"Why?"

Rouge didn't hesitate, "Because it's my house and I can sleep where I want. Is that a crime?"

I could practically picture the hedgehog's death glare.

"And…" Rouge hesitated, "I may have found ants in my room and didn't want to sleep there."

"I did not see any ants."

"Were you looking for ants?"

"...No."

"There you go."

I heard the doorknob jiggle and thanked whoever turned the lock around.

"Why is the closet locked?"

"It's been locked for years. I don't use it and don't feel the need to open it. Are you done?"

I heard a huff and then the door closed. I didn't dare to move still, even after the voices died.

Ten minutes later, Rouge popped back in, "He's gone. You can come out now."

"Are you sure?" I called.

"Wait… how did you get in the closet?" I heard the door jiggle then saw it open, Rouge staring down at me, key in hand. I grinned sheepishly and waved up at her.

"Hi." I said.

"Hi. You wanna tell me how you got in there?"

I described my extraordinary adventure to her in my radio-announcer voice that I only use for special occasions, of how I sensed the danger and bravely picked the lock to hide. She didn't seem very impressed.

"If you're so brave, then why did you hide?" she asked skeptically.

"Cuz I'm not stupid. I've seen that guy shoot up half a dozen Black Arms in three seconds. There is no way in heck that I am facing him. Ever."

Rouge smiled. "Nice to see that you do have a shred of common sense in you."

"Hey, I've got plenty of common sense! I just choose not to employ it."

"Go to bed."

"May I say that you are especially beautiful when in the process of deception?"

"Go to bed."

"Yes, ma'am."

I crashed at her place for about the next two days, until I could breathe normally and move my arms with a minimal amount of pain. By that time, I had a feeling that my welcome was beginning to wear out. I think it was a Wednesday when I mentioned that I thought I was in good enough shape to leave.

"Well, you'd better be," said Rouge dryly. "Because I was going to kick you out anyway."

Love it when she gets snappy.

"Well, ain't you the little ball of sunshine?" I asked cheerfully. She stared at me in contempt, but I could see the hint of a smile forming at the edges of her lips. She was warming up to me.

I gave a salute and began to back up to the door, "Well, see you around, Miss Super Spy. It was a pleasure making your acquaintance." I bowed deeply and turned to leave.

"You know, the only reason I even bothered to help you in the first place was to repay you."

I stopped in my tracks. "Pay me for what?"

She raised an eyebrow. "Uh, Stephanie's?"

"Oh! Well, seeing as you freakin' saved my life, consider it repaid. In fact, I should be the one repaying you." I paused. "That's a pretty necklace." I pointed to the gold chain she wore around her neck.

Rouge narrowed her eyes. "You're not stealing this."

I laughed. "Nah, I wouldn't steal that! I just think you should wear it sometime."

"I am wearing it, stupid."

"No, no, I mean on Friday."

"What's Friday?"

"Our date, silly!"

Her jaw dropped and I grinned. "Eight 'o clock, sharp. The Emerald Kitchen, best Italian place in town. We'll have to meet up, 'cuz I don't have a car, and commiting grand theft auto may put a damper on our plans. Prison food is not excellent, let me say that. See ya then!" I waved and ducked out of the apartment, closing the door behind me.

As I walked down the hall in victory, I froze and realized what I had done.

What was I thinking? She's Rouge! She'd kill me and eat me before she agreed to go out with-

"MANIAC!"

Rouge stood leaning at the side of the door, arms crossed, scowling. I walked sheepishly over to her to accept my fate. "Yes, ma'am?"

She didn't say anything for a minute. Suddenly, I felt a quick peck on my right cheek.

"Don't be late," she said smugly, a hint of color rushing to her cheeks (which was nothing compared to the tomato my head had turned into). Rouge ducked back into her apartment and shut the door behind her.

For a minute, I couldn't move. Then cheer escaped my mouth.

"YA-HOO!" I cartwheeled down the hall, ignoring the dull pain in my arms and the alarmed looks I received. Who cares? This was the best day of my life!

Wait till I told Curtis- he'd never believe me, but I just got kissed by the girl of my dreams!

AAAAAA CUTENESS OVERLOAD!

I have to go calm down Halo again. But while I do that, please review!

Next time… You know what, you'll find out.