Sensing the air between them settled, she laid back and focused on the tablet in her hands. The room was completely quiet now, save for the rhythmic sound of Shadow's breathing. When she glanced up, she was surprised to find him asleep.

His head was tilted slightly back against the couch, his arms loosely crossed over his chest. His face, so often set in a scowl or a glare, was completely relaxed. For the first time since she'd walked into Rouge's penthouse, the tension in his features had melted away, leaving him looking… different.

Blaze hesitated, watching him for a moment longer than she should have. He looked so much less arrogant when he was asleep—less like the stubborn, unyielding thorn in her side that had been fighting her at every turn. He looked… softer.

The thought caught her off guard, and she blinked, her brow furrowing slightly. Softer? No, that wasn't the right word. But there was something about the way his sharp features relaxed in sleep that gave her pause. He almost looked…

Her cheeks burned as the word slipped unbidden into her mind.

Handsome.

Blaze immediately shook her head, sitting up straighter as if that would physically shake the thought loose. Where had that come from? She blamed the exhaustion—the sheer mental toll of dealing with Shadow's impossible personality all evening. She had barely gotten him to eat, let alone cooperate with her efforts to clean his wounds. That had to be it.

She shuddered, both at the thought and at the strange, unfamiliar warmth creeping into her chest. "Weird," she muttered under her breath, brushing it off.

Carefully, she stood, slipping her tablet into her bag and grabbing her hotel keycard from the coffee table. She moved slowly, knowing from experience that Shadow was a light sleeper. He would probably wake up the moment she moved, snapping out of his rest with the same irritated glare he always wore. But for now, she would let him rest. At least she'd managed to do something useful tonight—cleaning his bandages and ensuring he'd eaten felt like a small way to repay him for what he'd done for her.

Tomorrow would be another challenge, she was sure. Shadow wasn't the type to let anyone fuss over him for long, and she doubted he'd tolerate much more of her hovering. But he needed to relax, to actually let himself recover. Maybe she could convince him to do something other than brood and stew in his frustration. He probably needed a bath, too—her eyes flicked toward the faint traces of dried blood on his fur, and she gulped.

Blaze quickly shook her head again, her face heating for the second time that evening. She would cross that dangerous bridge when she got to it. For now, it was enough that she had gotten through the night without snapping completely.

As she stood by the door, waiting for her security detail to arrive and escort her back to her hotel, she glanced at him one last time. He hadn't stirred. His features were still peaceful, his breathing even. It was strange seeing him like this—so different from the proud, indomitable figure she was used to.

For a moment, she allowed herself to wonder what Shadow was like beneath all the layers of arrogance and pride. Was this quiet, vulnerable version of him closer to the real Shadow? Or was it just exhaustion taking over?

Blaze shook herself out of those thoughts, gripping her keycard tightly as she turned toward the door. She had spent enough time here for one night. She had a long week ahead of her, and the last thing she needed was to start overthinking things.

As the door clicked softly shut behind her, Blaze exhaled, trying to push all thoughts of Shadow—the stubborn, impossible, surprisingly complex Ultimate Lifeform—out of her mind.

Tomorrow, she thought as she walked down the hall, I'll deal with whatever comes. But for now, I need to get some sleep.

And with that resolve, she left the penthouse behind, her thoughts still buzzing with the strange, unexpected warmth of the evening.

—-

The next morning, Blaze turned the key in the lock of Rouge's penthouse, the weight of it feeling oddly symbolic. It wasn't every day someone handed her a key to their home, but Rouge, in her usual nonchalant style, had insisted.

"You're going to need it," Rouge had said with a sly grin the night before. "Shadow's not exactly the type to open doors for people."

Blaze sighed as she stepped inside, the faint aroma of expensive candles and Rouge's ever-present perfume lingering in the air. The spacious penthouse was as immaculate as she remembered, save for the living room, where Shadow had more or less claimed the couch as his territory.

As she walked in, she wasn't surprised to find Shadow already awake, sitting upright on the sofa with a stack of freshly printed reports in his lap. He looked dead-focused, his crimson eyes scanning the pages with the intensity of someone searching for a needle in a haystack. The faint light streaming through the floor-to-ceiling windows caught the edges of his quills, and despite his injuries, he looked as sharp and unyielding as ever.

Blaze frowned, her ears twitching in irritation. "Of course," she muttered under her breath. "He's supposed to be resting, and instead, he's working."

Shadow didn't even glance up as she entered, his attention locked onto the papers. He didn't acknowledge her presence, but Blaze had already gotten used to that. Shadow wasn't the kind of person who wasted time on pleasantries.

"Good morning to you too," she said dryly, setting her bag down on a nearby chair.

Still no response.

Blaze rolled her eyes and made her way to the kitchen. The least she could do was make him some tea—maybe that would help him unwind, though she doubted anything short of a direct order from Rouge herself could get him to actually relax.

The sound of the kettle boiling filled the quiet penthouse as Blaze prepared the tea. She glanced over her shoulder, watching as Shadow flipped through another page, his brow furrowed in concentration. Even in his battered state, he was relentless, and while Blaze could admire his determination, it was also infuriating.

When the tea was ready, she carried the steaming cup over to him, setting it on the coffee table in front of him with a soft clink. "Here," she said, her voice calm but firm. "You should drink this. Maybe it'll help you relax for once."

Shadow didn't respond immediately. Instead, he reached for the cup without looking up, his focus still locked on the report. Blaze crossed her arms, resisting the urge to snatch the papers away from him.

"You're supposed to be resting," she said pointedly, her golden eyes narrowing.

Shadow finally glanced up, his crimson gaze meeting hers. "I am resting," he said flatly.

"No, you're working," Blaze countered, her tone sharper now. "There's a difference."

Shadow huffed and leaned back slightly against the couch, the movement stiff and deliberate. "If I don't do this, no one else will," he said, his voice low and unyielding. He gestured to the stack of papers with a slight tilt of his head. "According to these reports, there are three G.U.N. employees who could be the traitor. High clearance, all of them. And every single one of them got their clearance unusually fast."

Blaze frowned, her tail flicking behind her as she processed his words. "Three suspects? Do you think it's one of them, or all three?"

"I haven't decided yet," Shadow replied, his gaze dropping back to the report. "There's something off about the timelines. Their promotions, their assignments... it's too convenient. But I need more information before I can confirm anything."

Blaze sighed, her hands resting on her hips. "And you think running yourself into the ground is going to help you figure it out faster?"

Shadow didn't respond, his crimson eyes scanning the page in front of him with laser-like focus. Blaze exhaled sharply, frustrated but not surprised. She knew this was just how he operated—like a machine, relentless and unyielding, even at his own expense.

"Shadow," she said, her voice softer now, though it still carried an edge. "You can't keep going like this. You're injured. You need to rest."

"I'll rest when this is over," he said simply, his tone so matter-of-fact that it made Blaze want to scream.

She shook her head, sitting down on the chair across from him. "Unbelievable," she muttered, though there was no real venom in her voice. It was more of an observation at this point—a resigned acknowledgment of who Shadow was.

For a while, they sat in silence, the only sounds in the room being the faint rustle of paper as Shadow flipped through the reports and the soft clink of his spoon as he stirred the tea she'd made for him. Blaze watched him out of the corner of her eye, her tail flicking idly against the floor.

Finally, she sighed and leaned back in her chair, her gaze fixed on him. "Do you ever think about taking a break? Even for a second?"

Shadow didn't look up. "Breaks are a waste of time."

Blaze let out a short, humorless laugh. "Of course you'd say that."

Blaze could see the faintest quirk of his brow, as if he found her persistence mildly irritating. She smirked to herself, taking that as a small victory.

"Fine," she said, standing and brushing imaginary dust off her skirt. "If you won't rest, then at least let me help. Two heads are better than one, right?"

Shadow's eyes flicked up to her, his expression unreadable. For a moment, Blaze thought he might argue, but instead, he simply nodded once, a small, almost imperceptible movement.

"Suit yourself," he said, his tone as gruff as ever.

Blaze grabbed one of the reports from the coffee table and sat back down, her golden eyes scanning the pages. The day stretched ahead of them, and she knew it was going to be a long one. But if Shadow thought he was going to shoulder this burden alone, he was sorely mistaken.

As the morning sunlight streamed through the windows, Blaze settled in for the challenge ahead. Shadow might be the most stubborn person she'd ever met, but she wasn't about to let him burn himself out—no matter how difficult he made it.

It was going to be a battle of wills, but Blaze was more than ready for the fight.