Blaze the Cat walked through the dimly lit streets of the city, her golden eyes fixed straight ahead as her thoughts swirled like a storm inside her mind. The cool night air nipped at her fur, but she ignored it, her focus elsewhere. She had promised herself, and Rouge, that she would make sure Shadow recovered this week—whether he liked it or not.
Her tail flicked behind her, betraying her nervousness. She wasn't afraid of Shadow, of course. She had faced worse than his gruff attitude and brooding demeanor. But the idea of spending an entire week pushing past his stubbornness and pride to get him to take care of himself? That was terrifying.
Blaze tightened her grip on the takeout bag she carried, its warmth seeping through the paper. She had even gone out of her way to pick up a simple, nourishing soup for him, knowing full well he probably hadn't eaten anything since his escape. Still, part of her wondered if he'd throw it back at her face…
As she walked, the towering structure of Rouge's penthouse came into view. Blaze took a deep breath, steeling herself for what was to come. She reminded herself of her vow: Shadow had taken those bullets for her, nearly died for her. The least she could do was ensure he recovered, even if it meant enduring his impossible attitude.
When she reached the door, she hesitated for a moment, her finger hovering over the doorbell. She mentally braced herself for Shadow's inevitable glares, his short, biting words, and his refusal to accept any help.
Before she could press the button, the door swung open. Rouge stood there, her arms crossed, her piercing teal eyes glinting with amusement.
"Well, well, look who's here," Rouge said, her lips curling into a sneer. "Come to babysit Mr. Sunshine himself? Better prepare yourself, princess. He's already driving me insane, and I haven't even been here that long."
Blaze tilted her head, her expression calm but questioning. "How bad could he be?"
Rouge laughed, shaking her head. "Oh, you'll see. He's moody, stubborn, and about as cooperative as a brick wall. Good luck getting him to eat or, Chaos forbid, let you touch his bandages. He's all yours for the night—consider it a favor while I'm busy with Tower."
Blaze nodded, her face remaining composed despite the growing apprehension in her chest. "I'll handle it," she said firmly, stepping past Rouge into the penthouse.
"Mm-hmm," Rouge called after her. "You say that now. Let's see if you're still saying it when he starts growling at you like a wild animal."
Blaze didn't respond. The door clicked shut behind her, and she took a moment to take in the scene.
Shadow was sprawled on Rouge's pristine white sofa—if "sprawled" was the right word for his tense, upright posture. His crimson eyes flicked to her the moment she entered, narrowing into a glare.
"What are you doing here?" he asked, his voice low and cold, as if her mere presence was an insult.
Blaze held her ground, her expression calm but unyielding. "I came to make sure you're recovering properly."
"I don't need your help," he snapped, his tone sharp enough to cut glass.
Blaze ignored the venom in his voice and set the takeout bag on the coffee table. Her eyes immediately went to the bandages wrapped around his chest and arms. They were stained with blood—some old, some worryingly fresh.
"You need your bandages changed," she said bluntly, her voice steady.
"I'm fine," Shadow bit out, turning his gaze away as if that would end the conversation.
Blaze's tail flicked behind her, but she refused to rise to his bait. Instead, she stepped closer, her arms crossed. "You're not fine. And if you don't let me help, those wounds will get infected."
"I don't need your pity," Shadow growled, his crimson eyes snapping back to hers.
"It's not pity," Blaze shot back, her voice firm but calm. "It's common sense. Now sit still."
Shadow's jaw tightened, his glare intensifying, but Blaze didn't back down. She stepped closer, reaching for the first roll of bandages.
The moment her hand neared him, Shadow's arm shot up, his hand gripping her wrist. His strength was still impressive despite his condition, but Blaze didn't flinch. She met his glare with an unyielding gaze of her own.
"Don't touch me," he warned.
Blaze's golden eyes narrowed. "Shadow, you're bleeding through your bandages. You can either let me help, or I'll call Rouge back in here—and I doubt she'll be as patient as I am."
Shadow's grip on her wrist slackened, but his glare didn't falter. For a moment, Blaze thought he might actually shove her away, but then he exhaled sharply, his shoulders slumping slightly.
"Fine," he muttered, his voice dripping with reluctance. "Do whatever you want."
Blaze didn't waste time celebrating the small victory. She carefully unwrapped the bandages around his chest, her movements precise and gentle. The wounds beneath were worse than she had expected—deep gashes and punctures that hadn't fully closed, surrounding bruises painting his fur in shades of dark purple and angry red.
She suppressed a wince, knowing Shadow wouldn't appreciate any sign of pity. Instead, she worked in silence, cleaning the wounds with antiseptic and re-wrapping them with fresh bandages.
Shadow hissed through his teeth as the antiseptic stung, but he didn't complain aloud. Blaze could feel his muscles tensing beneath her hands, his entire body rigid with discomfort.
"You're not very good at this," he muttered, his voice laced with irritation.
Blaze arched an eyebrow but didn't look up. "I'm doing my best. Maybe if you'd taken better care of yourself, I wouldn't have to do this at all."
Shadow grunted, but didn't argue.
When she finished with his chest, she moved to his arm, where a particularly nasty bullet wound had torn through the muscle. Shadow tried to pull away, but Blaze shot him a sharp look.
"Stay still," she ordered.
"You're enjoying this, aren't you?" he muttered, his tone accusatory.
Blaze's lips twitched into the faintest hint of a smile. "Not particularly, but I'll admit it's satisfying to see you actually sit still for once."
Shadow scowled, but he didn't pull away again.
When she was finally done, Blaze sat back, surveying her work. The fresh bandages were neat and secure, and the wounds were properly cleaned. She stood and retrieved the takeout bag, pulling out the container of soup.
"Now, you need to eat," she said, setting the container in front of him.
Shadow eyed it like it was poison. "I'm not hungry."
"Too bad," Blaze said, her tone leaving no room for argument. "You'll heal faster if you eat. And I didn't walk all the way here just to have you refuse."
Shadow's glare was fierce, but Blaze met it without flinching. After a long moment, he grabbed the container and spoon with a muttered, "Tch."
Blaze hid her smile as she watched him take the first reluctant bite.
What the hell had she gotten herself into?