A/N: Hello, everyone! I hope you are all doing well. It's been a minute since I last posted anything, or updated any of my incomplete stories. I've been doing too many things lately.

I not too long ago watched Sonic the Hedgehog (mostly watched it because of Jim Carrey) and really enjoyed it. After the second film, I had this "What if Dr. Robotnik survived" scenario pop into my head and had to write it out. I didn't see anyone else do anything similar, so I want to share this piece as soon as I could.

This "What if" scenario picks up right after the second film.

I'm rating this as T for now for some mild language.

I hope you all enjoy!

03/26/2024 UPDATE: I added a couple of things to develop my OC a little more. I am working out Chapter 2 and possibly more.


How is this even possible?

Dr. Robotnik laid wide awake, only waking nearly a moment ago.

He is not in the place he pictured to be. The last thing he remembered was being surrounded in the darkened forest. He had retreated from the wreckage of his greatest design, the Giant Eggman Robot. It was impossible to survive, considering how far the drop was. He vaguely recalls the heat from flames as he zoomed past. The black plume of smoke concealed his flaying arms and legs. The impact once he hit the ground hurt like hell. He even heard the loud crack of a bone breaking somewhere in his body. He believed it was his back. He remembered laying there on his back, staring wide-eyed, with mouth gaping up at the bright blue sky before succumbing to darkness.

He thought he had died.

Yet, somehow, he didn't. It is undoubtedly a miracle.

He fell unconscious, only to wake from the sound of metal clattering around him. Robotnik then saw the enormous chunk of debris heading towards him.

Oh, shitake, he remembered saying in his head.

It landed roughly on the ground, right on top of him. Thankfully, he wasn't crushed. It was a rounded sheet of metal that was once a chest plate from his gigantic Death Egg. It ended up shielding him from agents looking for his body. He's glad, too.

"Agent, I want an update," he heard Commander Walters demand nearby.

Well, if it isn't Commander Douchebag, Robotnik said to himself.

"Still searching, sir. We haven't found any sign of Robotnik," a female agent answered.

"No one could've survived that crash."

I survived, didn't I? Robotnik said to himself again as he remained quiet, his mustache twitching wildly.

"He's toast. Good riddance. Look at the mess that lunatic has made."

Robotnik remembered grinding his jaw and breathed a deep sigh.

Enculer, he wanted to blurt out.

He wanted to stay under that colossal piece of metal to lie low for a moment or two. Except, he couldn't for the fear of being discovered. There were clean-up crews everywhere, and they all started in the center and near the crash of his demolished robot. They would most likely look under his current hiding spot. He had to make a move before they found him.

He was careful to slide out from underneath the metal debris and silently retreated to the tree line despite his broken leg. He came close to being seen from falling flat on his face, but thankfully, none of the imbeciles saw his injured self. Robotnik was already humiliated from his massive defeat and gravely wounded. He had to keep some of his dignity intact. He ended up ducking down ten feet away from the ants, searching the grounds. He waited for five long excoriating minutes before he could move again. He limped and crawled further into the forest, biting back groans and screams from the agonizing pain he was in. He remembered at one point cradling his left arm and clutched the right side of his chest. He was wheezing, gasping for breath, and struggling to stay hidden as Robotnik ventured further.

Robotnik eventually grew tired. He half crumbled, half slunk to the ground, panting, and bit at his gloved knuckle to muffle his screams. He had hobbled and slithered a lot further than he thought. He was in the middle of the forest, just a mile away from the crash site and on a damned broken right leg, no less. He scanned the area for a suitable spot to lie down for a while and gather some strength. Robotnik ultimately sat close to a tree where the soil was soft to cushion his injured body, yet cradled him in place.

Exhausted, the evil genius sat in silence. The noises from the crash site are muffled from this distance. He liked it, too. His surroundings were actually quite peaceful. The sounds of night creatures, and the smell of moss had lolled him to sleep, forgetting the peril of ravenous predators lurking around. He thought he had heard one nearby, but hardly cared. He was tired and in pain.

Before his eyelids closed to block out the treetops and twinkling stars, the doctor wished he really was dead. There was no one there to provide him with the care he needed. Stone apparently wasn't devoted enough to search for him and make sure he was okay. When he was thrusted onto that portobello purgatory, Mushroom Planet, the agent had no choice but to remain on earth waiting for him. This time around is different. Robotnik is still here. He would have to admit he kind of liked the guy. The agent admired him and his work, yet was reliable, in a sense. So, Dr. Robotnik was disappointed in the overly dedicated agent's absence. Now, if Agent Stone had looked and found him in the condition he was, the doctor would reject his help.

He wanted to succumb to his injuries and die seeing the beautiful stars for the last time. It was a more… peaceful way to go, despite the agonizing pain.

But atlas, that wasn't the case.

Instead, a stream of sun-gold spilled on his face from a window close to his head. He arched his neck to try looking out the pane above him, only to create a kink in his neck. He rocks his head sideways, working it out. Dr. Robotnik then noticed the exceptionally soft bed and the plump pillow under him, cradling his head gently. He closed his eyes with a soft sigh, enjoying the feel of cotton and the light scent of lavender. He breathed in the lingering scent, calming him despite the bubble of panic rising in his stomach.

Where am I? He questioned.

He laid in silence for a moment, his eyes remaining closed as he listened to his surroundings. The window might be closed, but Robotnik can hear birds singing and the whispering of trees. There are some creaks and groaning, as if a charming old home is settling. He can faintly make out the ticking of a nearby clock, and it sounded like an old-fashioned one where the pendulum swayed sideways. There is even a soft hum of an air conditioner running. The last thing he expected to hear was the pattering and clicking of feet.

His brows furrowed, and lip curved downwards.

Robotnik then felt something standing next to him, and… panting.

Curious, yet a little unnerved by the disturbance, he cracks an eye open.

Before him, with their pink tongue partly out and staring at him innocently, was a dog. Not just any dog, but a rather large breed with a black, white and rust coat. Robotnik quickly recognized it as a Burmese Mountain dog. He silently inched himself away from the canine, slightly nervous it would bite him.

"Nice doggy," he rasped.

Robotnik coughed from the dryness in his mouth. He tries to moisten his tongue with no luck.

"The hell," Robotnik said hoarsely.

The dog whined, stood on its hind legs, leaned towards the doctor, and began licking his face.

"No. Argh, yuck, get off."

Despite the giant dog licking his face and neck, he noted the fiercely wagging tail. He then felt an additional weight near his feet and on his ankles. He wanted to glance down, but found it impossible. Robotnik tried to shove the mutt away, except he couldn't move his right arm. It stuck to his side, in a sling and bandaged. A brow arched at this. He cranes his head away from the rough tongue, shifting in his spot on the comfy bed he is on to try looking down at himself. The second he did, Robotnik heard a low growl.

His eyes snapped upwards, staring straight at another dog, a rottweiler no less, glaring at him. Robotnik made an audible whine. He shifts back towards the Burmese, which never stopped licking him. The rottweiler made another low growl, baring its teeth a little, and drew near him.

"Thor," a voice sounded suddenly.

The dog, Thor, quickly backed off, then glanced towards the voice, grinning happily. He jumped off the bed to approach their owner.

Dr. Robotnik hears the voice petting their pet, cooing "good boy," to Thor.

"Bear, down," the voice instructed the other.

Bear barked softly as it went back to all fours and trotted away from Robotnik's side.

Now covered in slobber, Robotnik finally glances down at his feet, finding yet another dog. This time a basset hound, who looked up at him with a jovial grin, their tail thumbing on the bed, and groaning happily.

"What is this, canine purgatory?"

"Nope, no purgatory, not even heaven," the voice, which appears to be female, answers for him.

"Where am I then?"

"Earth."

"Well, that seems vague," Robotnik heaves, coughing.

The female sighs then approaches the bed, the two dogs following at her heels.

Once she approached, Robotnik stopped coughing. He turned to glance up at her and opened his mouth. Except, no words came out. He is rather taken at the female's appearance. Her hair is a shade of brown that reminded him of the gills of a mushroom, and cascaded down her shoulders in long, tight s-curls. He noticed several thick graying strands framing her soft, square face. She looked to be in her late thirties, maybe forties, but could be around his age with the grays present. Unless it's premature. Her thin lips are pinched, and her button nose flared slightly. His mouth got dryer from the striking sky blues that glared down at him, almost in a callous sort of way. His eagle eyes picked up on the little blotch by her right eye that looked like a heart.

"Can you sit up?" She asked him tightly.

Dr. Robotnik blinks, then exaggeratedly motions to the dog stretched across his shins.

"She'll move once you squirm around. Now, try sitting up for me."

He doesn't show it, but he grinds his teeth then attempts to sit up. The dog moved when Robotnik shifted his feet like the woman said. He watched as the pup settled between his legs, observing him with a grin still. Robotnik shuffled around to get some sort of footing with the canine right there, but gained an inch before a jolt ran up his leg. He cries out, groaning sharply.

"Gah, what in the f-tarnation?"

"Right. I forgot you have a cast on your broken leg. At least you can move a little. I'm going to hoist you up. Thor, come here, boy."

Dr. Robotnik's eyes widened once the rottweiler jumped onto the bed and came to his side. He expected the canine to bite him in the face, only to sniff at his neck, which tickled and licked his ear. Thor backed away some and sneezed violently, shaking his head.

"À tes souhaits."

"I may know some French, but Thor doesn't, dumbass. He is going to help me a little by sitting you up. So don't worry. He won't bite you too hard. Now, stop talking. Your mouth is already dry like the Serengeti. You'll need some water to rehydrate yourself."

He snapped a glare at the woman, who stood close to him. She has a pleasant scent of gardenias lingering on her skin, yet smelled of earth and pine. The flecks of dirt on her ample covered bosoms indicated she was outdoors.

"I'm touching your shoulder," she says, disturbing his silent observation.

"I don't need a play-by-play," he remarks with a cough.

"Old habit," she snipped. "Now shush."

He quickly did as he was told with a pout.

The woman cupped the underside of his arm, and wrapped a slender, toned arm around his chest, which is bare. She hugs him gently, while Thor saddled at his left side again, tucking his head at the arm and hoisted him. He sat up straight now, with the woman and Thor's help. Robotnik glances down at himself, noting the white bandages around his torso. He also noticed the sheets conforming to his leg and the cast on his right. With a slight shift in his upright position, he felt friction against his buttocks.

Hmm, good. At least I'm not stark naked like a jaybird here, he says to himself.

"Here," the woman beside him says tersely, showing him a cup.

"Please let that be a latte," he sighs.

"Sorry, no. It's water. Take small sips to moisten your tongue."

Dr. Robotnik quickly snatches the cup from her palm with his good hand and takes several large gulps.

"I said slowly, not inhale it, you moron. You haven't had any liquids for the past twelve hours."

He swallowed a few more big sips, sighing in gratification then regards the woman in mild annoyance yet perplexed.

"Is that how long I've been out?" He questioned, his voice clear and lacked his usual bite, then sipped on the water.

"That's the last time you were conscious. You've been slipping in and out of it for a week now."

He spews and coughs.

"A week?" He echoes.

"Yep. If it wasn't for Jade, you would have been dead by now."

Robotnik snorts.

"I almost wish I was. Where exactly am I, anyway? Who is Jade? And who the heck are you, Brillo Pad?"

"Ouch. You're in my remote home in Green Hills on the lake," she nods towards the basset hound. "That is Jade. And my name is Margaret Caiside, dipshit. You can call me Maggie, if you like."

Dr. Robotnik stares at Margaret, grazing her sinewy, tall figure as she continued to stand by the bed. She certainly looked like a Margaret, but also an Olivia. He won't call her by that, though. He can already tell Margaret is not the kind of woman you want to anger.

"Well, Margaret, how in the blazes did I end up here?"

"Duh, I found you. The government stopped searching for you not long after you disappeared. They all thought you died from the crash of your… whatever it was. I was out prowling the woods with Jade the next night when she sniffed you out. That's why Thor there sneezed. You smell worse than sauerkraut."

Dr. Robotnik glared at her yet said nothing as Margaret explained how she discovered him. He turned his gaze at the basset hound, Jade, who looked up at him soulfully and laid her chin on his knee.

"Apparently Jade likes you. She normally doesn't snuggle up to strangers. So, there must be something about you she likes."

"What is there not to like?" He replies with his normal air of arrogance and gently twisted his dirty mustache.

He doesn't see it, but he can feel Margaret's eyes rolling. She lightly slaps his shoulder, which he makes a funny sound, then she places a hand on his forehead.

"Hmm, you're getting warm. At least it's nothing compared to what you were before. So, it's not a cause for alarm right now. I'll give you some aspirin to keep the fever down and monitor you for the next few hours."

Robotnik stares at her strangely.

"You're a doctor?"

"A surgeon. At least I was. I resigned last year to take care of a family matter. But that's really none of your concern."

Margaret shifts downward to draw up the plush comforter, being mindful to hide his… package to check the cast. Her fingers brushed against his skin, which sent a strange yet delightful shiver up his leg and down his spine. He watched her slip a single digit between the cast and his leg, gently touching a bruised section.

"At least the bruise on your leg has diminished some since you're not yelping in pain."

"Should I have?"

She looks up at him and locks gazes with him, albeit briefly.

"Considering the severity of your broken leg, yes. You should have felt some tenderness. You can thank Mr. Vicodin for that."

He stares at her, searching for something in her distant gaze.

"You were a surgeon, and yet you have access to a heavy prescription drug and a practice here?"

"It's more like using my knowledge in these kinds of situations. Of course, my home used to be a clinic… and a morgue back in the days. So, I have a mock operating room in the basement to fix that broken leg, relocate your shoulder, and tend to the rest of your injuries."

Dr. Robotnik blinks rapidly.

"Why didn't you just take me to the hospital, then?"

"And have my former colleagues ask questions about you? I don't think so. Hell, I don't doubt the freaking government would find out and ask questions as well. If they had discovered you were alive, they would treat you, but they would take care of your injuries in a federal prison because of the shit you pulled. You nearly destroyed our town again, you know."

"I'm aware of my prior actions, Mrs. Caiside. Being mean and green with absolute power was, in fact… electrifying. Yet sadly, only temporary. If it wasn't for that blasted blue hedgehog ruining everything and kicking my giant robot down, I wouldn't have obtained the injuries I have."

"You mean, Sonic? Yeah, that little blue menace gave you a what for, that's for damn sure."

Dr. Robotnik's lips pinched tightly, his mustache twitched, and harrumphed. He slid his gaze off her to stare at the corner of the bed, contemplating his next choice of words. If they ever came to him. When he thought of something to say, a sound rumbled between them. Thor, who had settled himself next to him, glanced up at Robotnik. His tawny brows skewed slightly and head cocked sideways from the sound. He soon realized it was his stomach, growling with hunger.

"It sounds like someone is drowning in there. I'll make you something to eat. Some soup will do you some good."

Dr. Robotnik only nods, refusing to say anything, embarrassed by his bodily function.

"We'll talk more after you eat. For now, continue drinking some water. I'll bring more on my way back."

Margaret flips the comforter back over him, tucking it gently around his leg, then moved away from him, but stops.

"By the way, it's not Mrs. or Ms., it's Miss. But it's not an invitation for you to refer to me as Miss Caiside. You call me Margaret. Are we clear on that?"

"Understood," he says quickly and with a curt nod.

"Good. I'll have lunch ready for you in five minutes. Do you need anything while I'm here, or have questions?"

He sat there, contemplating, before answering.

"I do have one question, maybe two."

"Alright."

"First off, where is your bathroom? I did wake up from a rather long rest and my bladder is about to burst like a zit."

Margaret's lips pressed together before spreading into a wide smile. Her head tilts, then points behind her with a glint in her eye.

"It's down the hall, second door to the left. However, I didn't think you would wake up so soon. I hooked up a catheter not too long ago. Plus, I certainly don't want to mess with it now when you're about to… burst like a zit. The last thing I want is you squirting lemon on me. So, your bladder will relief itself."

Dr. Robotnik's jaw dropped for a millisecond. He gripped the comforter tightly to his chest, sitting straighter with jaw squaring.

"Are you always this pleasant?"

"I have my days. You caught me on one of my better days." She replies with a soft flip of her hair. "Although I do aim to please. Is there anything else you like to ask before I make you some lunch?"

He opened his mouth to respond, but he shook his head instead. He noted the cool detachment in her gaze, so he better keep his tongue in check.

"Very well then. I'll be back in five minutes. Come along, Bear."

Bear trotted beside her to the door, leaving Dr. Robotnik with Thor and Jade, who are fine where they are. He glances at both of them, feeling a little strange to have animals near him. He's just thankful they are not posing as threats. He won't admit it out loud, but Dr. Robotnik actually enjoys the company. They're better than human companionship, as they are more reliable. Although, they can be stupid. From what he can tell, Margaret trained the dogs well, since they are friendly and smart.

He stares at the sleeping Jade, softly smiling. He then regarded Thor again, who snuggled up on his left side. The intimidating canine looks up at him, heaves a sigh, then closes his eyes.

Dr. Robotnik looks away from the comfortable pup to stare into the hallway where Margaret disappeared. He may not particularly care for people, except on rare occasions, but Dr. Robotnik is not oblivious. There was something about his caregiver that intrigued him. Especially the air of mystery around her. He wants to know who Margaret Caiside is, and what kind of history she has. If he can figure out why she seemed detached, it will solve his suddenly nagging feeling.

Yet, he wanted to ask her why she had saved him from the woods, but never had the courage to ask. He can only assume she did it out of sympathy, but that wouldn't explain her coolness towards him. He'll figure it out eventually since he will be here for a while.

He heaves a sigh as he sat there in silence, shifting uncomfortably.

"I still need to pee," he says out loud.

Dr. Robotnik sat upright, shifting uncomfortably. He wished Margaret hadn't left. He can feel his bladder at max capacity and needs to relieve the pressure that is building up inside him.

He unknowingly whines, then glances around the room. He doesn't pay attention to what was on the walls as they held stories, secrets, and truths. To his right, he discovered a nightstand. With a brief struggle, he stretches to set the cup of water down. He sighed softly, then leaned back. Dr. Robotnik stops though once he noticed a single crutch, a rolling walker, and a wheelchair.

Hmm, he hums.

He really needed to use the facilities.

He debated on what to use in order to make it to the bathroom. He could use the crutch, but with him having a broken right leg and his right arm in a sling, it would be impossible for him. The rolling walker might work. Although, he can just imagine his lithe form bent over the top and awkwardly strolling himself. The only other option is the wheelchair. Except, his ego refused to use it. He could just relief himself right here, but that would be even more humiliating.

Dr. Robotnik heaves a sigh from his lungs, then made a decision. He checks his thighs and his private area for a catheter bag, but found none. Margaret lied.

"Blast that mushroom colored Brillo Pad wench," he grumbled.

With a huff, he flings the comforter off of him, causing Jade to grunt. She shifted to sit on the other side of his leg, just a few steps away from Thor. The rottweiler stirred from his sleep, but did nothing to move.

Satisfied there were no dogs in his way, Dr. Robotnik cautiously placed his braced leg on the floor, testing for any pain. He found none. Relieved, he heaved himself up from the bed. That is when Thor awakened fully, watching him intently. Once Robotnik stood straight, the dog quickly jumped down and went to his side, kind of blocking him.

"Move, dog," he barked.

Thor barked softly, circling Robotnik's legs, hoping to deter him from advancing. Dr. Robotnik failed to acknowledge the dog glancing at one of the assisted mobility devices.

"Out of my way, you dumb…"

As Dr. Robotnik tried moving around Thor, he lost his footing. He tried to save himself by reaching out for the bed, but failed. He falls ungracefully to the floor, landing with a hard thud and sharp yelp. He laid on his injured arm, gritting through the pain that zinged through him, and the ache that bloomed in his chest.

That's when Thor started barking, alerting Margaret.

"Gah, shut up, you damn mutt," Dr. Robotnik growled miserably. "Fuck that hurt."

Through the floorboards, he can hear Margaret's feet moving quickly and shouting.

"You better not have ruined my floor!"

He moans, willing himself not to relax and urinate himself.

"B-e-a-utiful," he groaned.

Within seconds, Margaret returned to the room, catching him flat on his face and in his skivvies. This was the last thing he wanted. He really had to curse himself and his ego. He doesn't doubt the woman is eyeing his backside. He would too if he could. It's probably a little payback since Dr. Robotnik eyed her own. At least hers is more shapely.

"I want to be sensible here," Margaret started, "but I'm not sure if I can."

He groans, lifting his head slightly to look up at her. She looked a little more intimidating from this angle with her arms crossed and has an unamused expression.

"Just say it."

Margaret frowned and shook her head.

"I'm not going to. You learned your mistake the hard way. So, I'll just say this where it won't bruise your ego even more. Even though I should. It doesn't hurt to ask for help. Swallow your pride next time, Doctor."

He nods his head a little, refusing to speak.

"While you're here recovering, we should work on your ego. Also, Thor stayed with you for a reason. He may be an excellent working watchdog, but he's a trained service dog, as well."

"Isn't that a little contradictory?"

"You would think, but he knows the difference between helping and protecting what's his."

His brows furrowed, then glances at Thor the best he could.

"What's his?"

Dr. Robotnik misses the soft smile on Margaret's lips.

"His home and the people inside it."

He looks up at her again.

"Meaning he will protect me?"

"Yep. Rottweilers get a bad rep for being 'bully dogs' when they are actually loyal and loving. Thor is a big softie and enjoys belly rubs."

"Then why was he growling at me earlier, hmm?"

"Oh, he can just be a little jealous sometimes. He actually wanted to lick you awake, but Bear got to you first. Do you still have the urge to go?"

Dr. Robotnik blinks, realizing his urge subsided. He mentally checked himself to make sure he didn't accidentally wet himself, but didn't. How is that even possible? He still needs to go, but not that urgently anymore.

"No."

"Meaning you wet yourself?"

"I did not," he retorted, actually insulted. "Do you see a wet spot at my hips, Caiside?"

"I don't see a wet spot, but I do see a half-naked man on my floor with a decent ass. And don't refer to me by my maiden name, Robotnik."

He grinds his teeth despite the little heat on his cheeks.

"Fine. As long as you keep your eyes off my tush. And it's Doctor Robotnik."

"Sure thing, Doctor. I won't look at your tush if you keep your eyes off mine."

"I wasn't looking," he quickly denied.

Although it was a brief glance, he said to himself.

"Uh huh, sure. Do you need help to get up?"

He wanted to retort and refuse her assistance, but remembered what she said a moment ago.

Swallow your pride. Accept her help.

He heaved a sigh, then gently banged his head on the floor.

"Yes. I need help."

"Okay. Except I want you to ask for my help."

He huffed, his eyes closing to block out the woodgrain and the oncoming headache.

"Will you please help me up?"

Despite not being referred to her name, Margaret immediately came to his side, but doesn't stoop down.

"Alright, I'm going to walk you through this to make it a little easier for me to lift you. I need you to lie on your back, but turn to your left, not the right."

"Why the left? The bed is in the way."

"That's why Thor is still here. He's watching for an opening to assist you as well. Now, turn to your left."

He heaves a sigh, then followed her instruction.

Dr. Robotnik followed every instruction she had given him to return him to his feet. With every move he made, he silently mocked and cursed the mushroom-colored haired woman. While he appreciated her help to relief himself, he will not ask for it again. It was humiliating. Especially when she stood outside the door to ensure he didn't fall from getting up off the commode. He doesn't even want her to humble him. He doesn't give a damn. All Dr. Robotnik cares about right now is recovering from his injuries. He still wondered how he survived. Once healed, he will leave this place and the irritating woman.

When she had saved him from the woods, he wanted to ask why, but lacked the courage. At first, he assumed she did it out of sympathy, which made him want to vomit. Except, he believes she did this for a different reason. He thinks she is nursing him back to health to send him to the authorities. Maybe even the government. Like hell she will! He then put forth in taking advantage of her kindness despite her sarcastic nature and mild bite. She might be hard to swoon, but he would have to try.

In the coming days, he did what he could to please the woman with little success. He did what was instructed of him, and more, but Margaret was hardly affected. There were a few times he wondered if she knew what he was up to. When she interacted with him, she always seemed withdrawn and callous, maybe even hated him. Why she might baffled him, but he had an idea of what caused her animosity towards him. Green Hills is her home, after all, and he, Dr. Robotnik, has threatened the quaint town a couple of times. Well, more like using it as a battleground during his showdowns with that blasted blue hedgehog, Sonic. Yeah, anyone would treat him with hostility and look at him as if he were crazy. Or better yet, stare at him in fright as he flew off the ground like a freaking superhero high on electricity. God, he missed that power. He felt so… alive.

Alas, it was short-lived.

The last time Margaret and her dogs visited him was yesterday. She told him she wouldn't bother him too much today since the woman will be doing chores around the house, and tending to the garden, along with the few farm animals she has. She has a three hens to lay eggs, and a Nigerian Dwarf goat named Molly for fresh milk and butter. Because Margaret lives far from the town center, she makes a trip out for staples every other week. She makes her own bread, which is absolute perfection, instead of from the bakery or the store. Once a month she goes to the butcher for her meats and stores them in her deep freezer in the basement. He only knows about these details because she told him. Margaret was getting ready to leave for town the other day, and had asked if there was anything in particular he wanted. The only thing he requested at the time was a latte. He half expected her to not follow up on it, but surprised him. She was generous in providing him the beverage, and was acceptable to his liking, but nothing compared to Agent Stone's. The traitor.

He has been in her home for about a week now. Two if he included the time he was slipping in and out of consciousness a week prior.

Today, he occupied his time reading East of Eden. Not something he would usually pick, but it's something to keep him busy since he is bedridden for another two days. He actually has an assortment of books to read, along with a few textbooks and journals. They are rather interesting picks, but not his cup of tea. The irritating woman even provided him with adult coloring pages. What is he, five?

After a while, he lost focus on what he was reading. He read one sentence three times already and tried restarting the page, but lacked interest. Instead, he bookmarked the page, thumped it closed, then tossed it to the side. Dr. Robotnik sighs heavily as he leaned his head back against the windowsill. He stared up at the bright blue sky, enjoying the nice, warm breeze that whispered into the room, calming him.

He closed his eyes, and listened to the gentle wind, the songs of birds, even the distant wailing of a loon. The hens made light sounds, and Molly made not a peep. She must be munching on hay. He can now vaguely hear lapping waves from the lake's shoreline. He focused on that.

It is soothing.

He breathed in with the distant waves.

In…

Out…

In…

Out...

In...

Bark, bark, bark

Dr. Robotnik's eyes shut open when Thor's distinctive barking disturbed him. His lips pulled back into a sneer, growling.

"Damn, dog."

He turned his head to glance out the window to shout at the animal, when a distinct sound filled his eardrums. Pounding feet. The next thing he knew, the slightly ajar door to the room burst open, lightly banging against the wall. Margaret's supposed light feet pounded across the room with haste then in his line of sight, looking frantic.

"What the fu_?"

"Shh," she hushed him with her soft palm over his mouth.

Above him, Margaret one handedly shuts the window with a snap, then the blinds zipped down with a muted thump, shielding them in dusky light.

"You must be quiet," Margaret instructed in a whisper.

He shook his head, forcing her hand away.

"What in the blazes is wrong with you, Caiside?" He barks softly.

Margaret glances down at him. She tried to appear controlled and angry, but he can still see panic in her eyes.

Okay, what in the hell is going on? He wanted to ask.

"Can you move at all?"

He rolled his eyes.

"Answer the question, damnit," she replies in a tight whisper. "Can. You. Move?"

"Yes. I. Can. Move… a little. Why are you talking like that?"

"It's called enunciating, nimrod. Now, get up. You need to hide."

Dr. Robotnik stops her from pulling him up, then yanks himself away.

"What? Hide me? What the fuck is going on?"

She glares at him, her nostrils flaring, and lips pinched tight. She flicks her gaze at the open door, then back at him. Without saying a word, she stomps to the other side of the bed and snatches his arm. She roughly pulls him up, basically drags him out of the bed and shows him to a far corner in the room.

Dr. Robotnik stumbled slightly along the way, but remained upright. He would have protested, too, but refrained himself. The look in Margaret's eyes actually terrified him into submission. The woman is already in a frenzied state and he added on to it by making her mad. She was on a mission, and he wished what that mission was.

"In here, quickly," she says, then opened the wall, revealing a hidden room.

The hidden room seemed more like a small nook. The shelves lined up to the low ceiling, a little cubby to sit in, and a small chest that sat below the shelves. He obediently stepped inside. It is a little cramped for him. He stood tall, still, but had to tilt his head a little to accommodate the space. It's wide enough to face forward, backwards, or sideways. The depth, however, is much too short for him. If he could sit down, his knees will press against his chest. Dr. Robotnik realized this was more suited for a child, not an adult. He felt an odd knot twist in his stomach and mouth had gone dry as he stood there taking in the space. Why was this here, and why are there so many childish knick-knacks? What happened to the kid?

"Hide here and don't make a sound."

She goes to close the door on him, but he shot an arm out, and gently gripped her wrist. Margaret stiffened from his touch but didn't yank her hand away. Which, to Dr. Robotnik, is a good sign.

"What is going on, Mar_?"

A knock interrupts him, causing Margaret and Dr. Robotnik to look towards the open bedroom door. Downstairs, Bear and Jade barked loudly and howled as the knocking reverberated in the once silent home.

"Scheiße," Margaret hissed.

Dr. Robotnik quickly realized she had cursed in German. He doesn't actively speak it, unlike French and Japanese, but is familiar with it.

Margaret gently shakes his hand off, then started to close the paneling on him when he spoke.

"Margret, augenblick mal."

She immediately stopped. This is the second time Dr. Robotnik referred to her by name. Normally it is woman or Brillo Pad. Seldomly does he call her by her surname.

"Du sprichst Deutsch?"

"Ein bisschen. Can you please tell me what the bloody hell is going on? You're freaking me out here."

The knocking continued, along with the barking and howling.

Margaret gives him a look he couldn't decipher before answering.

"Federal agents are here."

Dr. Robotnik felt the color drain from his face and a breath caught in his lungs.

"Why?" He asked in a whimper.

"They must have figured out you are still alive."

"How?" He wanted to scream, but came out as a whimper.

"I don't know, but I'm going to find out. Now stay quiet. These wall are thin. If you make a sound while in the bedroom, they will come up here and find you. So, be quiet. I'm locking the door…."

"What, are you insane?"

"Not this one, dumbass. The bedroom door. I kept it locked for a long time until I rescued you. Now shut up, and let me deal with them."

She eased the paneling closed, but he stopped her again.

"Whoa, wait. Deal with them how? They will be armed to teeth."

Knock… knock… KNOCK

Despite the pounding door, Margaret flashed him a cryptic smirk, determination glimmering in her gaze.

"I have my ways."

With that, she closes the panel, leaving Dr. Robotnik in darkness.

He stared at the black wood, unsure of what she meant by that. One thing is for certain, Margaret is not nursing him back to health to hand him over. He's glad about that, that's for sure. Her actions to deter the agents away did show that he can trust her… to an extent.

Hopefully, he is not wrong to trust Margaret.