Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Prelude

**The Add**

Shadow stared at the add, the dim glow of his phone screen the only light in his apartment. The listing was plain, almost suspiciously so:

**Lighthouse Keeper Needed.**

**Remote Location. Minimal Contact. Room & Board Provided.**

**No Experience Required. Apply Within.**

There was no company name, no contact information beyond a single email address. The pay was just enough to keep him afloat, but it wasn’t about the money. It was the solitude that called to him.

Rouge had been nagging him about his disappearing act for months. Omega, in his usual bluntness, had calculated that Shadow’s social interaction had decreased by 67% in the past year. He didn’t care. The city was suffocating, the noise unbearable. If he could work in silence, away from the world, with only the sound of the waves and the occasional storm for company, it would be worth it.

Shadow sent the email. The reply came faster than expected.

**REPORT TO: WEST REEF LIGHTHOUSE. TRANSPORT PROVIDED.**

**POSITION BEGINS IMMEDIATELY.**

No interview. No questions asked.

Strange.

---

The lighthouse stood on a jagged stretch of land, where the waves crashed against dark rocks like restless spirits. It was older than he expected—tall, iron-framed, with patches of new metalwork reinforcing the aged brick. Some parts gleamed like they had been recently installed; others looked like they would crumble if the wind hit too hard. The contrast was unsettling.

The inside wasn’t much better. A spiral staircase coiled up the center, leading to the glass-walled lantern room at the top. Below that were cramped living quarters, a dusty office filled with outdated logbooks, and a basement he decided to ignore after noticing something skitter when he opened the door.

As long as the roaches stayed in the basement, he wouldn’t make an issue of it.

His duties were simple: keep a log of passing ships, ensure the beacon remained lit, and report any malfunctions to an unknown supervisor via an old radio. They called only once to confirm his arrival, their voice a static-laced monotone that made his fur bristle.

Most nights, he sat at his desk, writing down ship names and coordinates. The ocean stretched endlessly beyond the glass, its surface a mirror under the glow of the beacon. It was… peaceful, in a way he hadn’t known in years.

But something was off about the light.

It wasn’t just bright—it pulsed, steady but alive. More than once, Shadow caught himself staring at it for too long, the golden glow pulling him in like a whisper at the edge of his mind. It made no sound, and yet… it felt like it should. Like it wanted to.

The longer he stayed, the stronger the feeling grew.

Something wasn’t right with this lighthouse.

What Shadow didn’t know—what no one had told him—was that the ad hadn’t been posted by a normal company. It was a shell, a front for a criminal operation hidden behind layers of falsified records and scrubbed metadata. The mastermind behind it all was none other than Eggman, operating deep underground now, beyond the reach of the law. He needed the lighthouse—needed what was inside it—to keep his smugglers and black market cargo routes hidden from prying eyes.

And at the center of it all, burning in that beacon, was something nobody could ever know.

Chapter 1

At first, there was pain.

A searing, unbearable force, ripping through his body like wildfire. It burned hotter than any Chaos energy he’d ever felt before, twisting through his veins, forcing him into a shape that wasn’t meant to last forever. Super forms weren’t stable. They weren’t meant to be held indefinitely.

And yet—

*He couldn’t stop glowing.*

Couldn’t move. Couldn’t *stop.*

He had lost his body in the brightness, reduced to something weightless, something floating. He had no idea how long he had been in this state. Days? Weeks? Years?

Eggman had said something before it happened. What was it?

*"A perfect power source."*

The memory came in broken flashes. The fight, the chaos, the trap snapping shut around him. The way the emeralds had been wrenched from him, yet the energy hadn’t left his body. Instead, it had *solidified*—holding him in this form, making the golden glow permanent. Then the transfer, his body dragged like a living sun across the ocean, carried here. To the lighthouse.

His prison.

He could feel it, even now, pressing in around him. The glass was thick, reinforced with something unnatural, something that *kept him in.* The room itself was a machine, its wires stretching down into the structure below, feeding from him.

Eggman’s voice had come over the radio, once. A single, crackling update:

*"You’re keeping my ships safe, rodent. Don’t burn out too fast."*

Sonic had screamed then. He felt like he had split appart. Like a piece of himself had ripped itself from him. He has writhed in pain. Or maybe he hadn’t. Maybe he had only thought about it. Maybe his voice didn’t exist anymore.

It was hard to tell, after so long.

He couldn’t sleep. Couldn’t rest. Just hovered, just burned, trapped in a cage of light, waiting for something—anything—to *change.*

And then one night, in the middle of a storm, he felt it.

A presence.

Someone was in the room with him.

Sonic tried to focus. A shadowed figure stood near the glass, dark against the golden glow, half-lit and unfamiliar. He wasn’t like Eggman’s workers. He wasn’t like the machines.

He stepped closer, raising a hand toward the casing.

Sonic’s pulse quickened. His energy flickered around him. For the first time in so long, something new had entered his world.

The stranger pressed a gloved hand to the glass.

Sonic moved before he could think, reaching back, pressing his own hand against the other side.

Their fingers—separated by the barrier—almost lined up.

The figure spoke, voice quiet, rough, but strangely careful.

(Art by thealpacaavenger on Tumblr with permission to post here)

“…What are you?”

Sonic opened his mouth. It took effort to form words, to remember how to *speak.* His voice came out cracked and strained, but clear enough.

*"Not what. Who."*

Shadow stumbled back, heart hammering in his chest.

The voice had come from the light.

Not a radio transmission. Not the wind playing tricks on him. A real, conscious voice—tired, strained, but *alive.*

Something *alive* was inside the light.

His instincts screamed at him to leave. Whatever this was, it wasn’t normal. Maybe it wasn’t even mobian—if it *was* mobian. He had no proof that thing in the glow was anything other than some strange, flickering spirit.

The lighthouse groaned as another wave slammed against the rocks below. The walls shook. The wind screamed.

Shadow turned on his heel and went straight for the door.

The handle was ice-cold under his glove, and when he twisted it—nothing.

Locked.

He swore under his breath, rattling it harder. Maybe the wind had jammed it, maybe the frame had shifted with the cold—but either way, he was stuck up here.

The air was suffocatingly warm, thick with the ever-present hum of the golden energy filling the room. It pressed in around him, too bright, too unnatural. He needed to think. Needed to—

*"You’re scared."*

Shadow flinched. The voice came again, quiet but edged with something almost curious. He turned, unwillingly meeting those glowing eyes through the light.

*"You don’t have to be."*

Shadow forced himself to breathe evenly. “…You expect me to be *calm* about a disembodied voice coming out of a power source?” His own voice was low, sharp, trying to keep control.

The glow flickered slightly, and for the first time, Shadow thought he saw a small movement—a tilt of the head, a shift of weight, like someone floating just beneath the surface of a pool.

*"I’m not a power source."*

Shadow narrowed his eyes. “Then *what* are you?”

Silence.

Not because the figure didn’t want to answer—Shadow could feel it, somehow, in the air. Like it wasn’t sure what to *say.*

The storm howled louder outside, the lighthouse trembling under its force. If he had stayed in his room, under the blankets, he could have waited it out. But now? He was trapped in the highest point of the structure, surrounded by glass, with only the golden *thing* for company.

Shadow grit his teeth and pressed his back against the door, sliding to the floor with a quiet sigh. He wasn’t getting out of here until the storm let up.

The glow pulsed faintly, like it was watching him.

“…You’re stuck too, aren’t you?”

The words left his mouth before he could think about them.

The light flickered. Not a normal flicker—not like a candle in the wind. It was *intentional.*

A response.

*"Yeah."*

Shadow stared up at the golden figure, heart still pounding but slowing now, settling into something else.

Something that felt disturbingly like understanding.

Chapter Text

The storm passed by morning, leaving the lighthouse wrapped in heavy mist. Shadow barely slept.

After prying the door open with a well-placed kick, he had gone straight to his quarters, shedding his soaked coat and curling under the blankets, ignoring the hum of the beacon above him. His hands still felt warm, like the golden light had burned into his skin.

The voice still echoed in his mind.

*"I’m not a power source."*

Shadow tried to push it away. Whatever that thing was, it wasn’t his problem. He wasn’t here to investigate weird lights or strange voices trapped in glass. He was here for solitude. Routine.

So he forced himself back into it.

By afternoon, he was back at his desk, logging ship passages, listening to the crackling radio for any transmissions from his unknown employer. There was nothing. There usually wasn’t. He preferred it that way.

But his eyes kept drifting up the spiral staircase.

By evening, he gave in.

---

Shadow didn’t announce himself when he returned to the lantern room. He wasn’t sure why he came back at all.

The golden figure was still there, curled in its glass prison, eyes half-lidded, like someone caught between exhaustion and wakefulness.

Shadow hesitated before stepping closer. The warmth of the room wrapped around him instantly, chasing away the sea air clinging to his clothes. The figure’s gaze flickered toward him.

*"You came back."*

Shadow exhaled sharply. “Unfortunately.”

A quiet chuckle—softer than he expected. Like a whisper in the wind.

Shadow sat down against the railing, pulling something from his coat pocket. A small container, still warm. He had cooked, out of habit. A simple stew, enough to last him the week. He hadn’t planned to bring any up here.

He wasn’t sure why he did.

The golden eyes locked onto it immediately.

Shadow wasn’t expecting a reaction, but the way the figure stiffened—how their fingers twitched against the glass, muscles tensing—set something uneasy in his chest.

*"You have food."*

Shadow raised an eyebrow. “And?”

*"Can I have some?"*

The voice was different now. Less distant. More desperate.

Shadow frowned. “Do you even eat?”

The figure’s glow pulsed erratically, like a heart skipping a beat. Their breath—if they even *needed* to breathe—hitched.

*"I don’t know."*

Shadow’s grip tightened around the container. The realization settled in slow, unwelcome.

This thing—this *person*—didn’t even know if they could eat.

Because they hadn’t been given the chance to *try.*

Shadow didn’t move. Didn’t open the container. Just sat there, watching as the golden light flickered in the dim room.

He wasn’t sure what disturbed him more: the fact that he wasn’t afraid anymore…

Or the fact that he was starting to *care.*

Shadow didn’t move. The container rested in his hands, warmth seeping through his gloves. The golden glow flickered erratically, like candlelight caught in an unseen breeze.

The figure inside the glass—this *not-quite-human* thing—stared at the food with an intensity that unsettled him.

*"Please."*

Shadow hesitated. “How would that even work?”

The golden eyes flickered up to meet his. Sonic—*the light*—looked just as confused as Shadow felt.

*"I don’t know."* The glow pulsed weakly, dimming slightly. *"I just… I feel it. The need. The hunger. I don’t know what to do with it."*

Shadow exhaled sharply, rubbing his temple. He shouldn’t be entertaining this. But something about the way the glow dimmed—like the figure was growing weaker just from the thought of *not eating*—made his gut twist.

It was a risk. But what wasn’t, these days?

“…Fine.”

Carefully, he lifted the lid off the container, the scent of warm stew filling the lantern room. The golden light pulsed again—*reacting.* Shadow barely had time to process it before the glow surged forward.

It wasn’t physical. No hands reached through the glass, no body moved. Instead, the light itself bent, stretched—*fed.*

Shadow’s breath caught. He felt it.

The warmth that had been pressing against his skin *shifted*, like unseen fingers running through the air, pulling something from the food. The steam curling from the container twisted unnaturally, drawn into the golden glow, disappearing into it.

The light shuddered. Sonic inhaled sharply.

The glow grew brighter for a moment—too bright—before settling again, golden energy rippling outward like the surface of a disturbed lake.

Shadow stared. The food in his hands hadn’t changed. It was still there, still warm. But something *had* been taken from it.

Shadow swallowed. “…Did that work?”

Sonic’s chest rose and fell unsteadily, like someone who had been starving for too long finally feeling something fill the void. His eyes fluttered open again, a little sharper now. More *awake.*

*"Yeah."*

Shadow should have felt relief. Instead, he felt something much worse.

Because now, it was real.

This thing—this person—was trapped in the light. And it *needed* something. It *hungered.*

And Shadow had just become the first person to feed it.

Chapter Text

Shadow tried to ignore it.

The way the glow followed him when he entered the lantern room. The way the air felt warmer near the glass. The way the golden energy curled toward him, reaching, but never quite touching.

He told himself he wasn’t scared.

But his body disagreed.

His hands shook when he brought food. He barely spoke. He never stayed longer than a few minutes.

And the thing inside the glass—*Sonic*—noticed.

*"You’re afraid of me."*

Shadow froze mid-step, a steaming cup of tea in his hands. It was late, the lighthouse silent except for the distant waves.

He hadn’t meant to come up tonight. But something had pulled him here anyway. Routine, maybe. Or something worse.

“…No,” he muttered, placing the cup down near the base of the glass.

The glow flickered. Not a full pulse—just a faint, unreadable shift.

*"You are,"* Sonic murmured. *"It’s okay. I’d be scared too."*

Shadow scowled, sitting down against the railing. “I don’t get scared.”

*"Uh-huh."* A small crackle of energy. *"That’s why you flinch every time I talk, right?"*

Shadow’s eye twitched. “I don’t flinch.”

*"Mhm. Sure."*

There was something different about the way Sonic spoke tonight. Lighter. Less strained.

Shadow frowned. *Why?*

Then it hit him—he had been *feeding* it.

The thing in the glass.

It was growing stronger.

A pit settled in Shadow’s stomach. His fingers curled against his arms. He shouldn’t be doing this. He should be finding a way to shut the entire lighthouse down, to sever whatever unnatural link had trapped this *thing* here.

But instead, he kept bringing food.

Kept talking.

And it—*Shadow didn't even ask his name*—seemed to notice.

The glow shifted again, and then—

*"You know, for a guy who acts all tough, you’re actually pretty nice."*

Shadow’s ears twitched. “Excuse me?”

*"Bringing me food. Checking on me. Looking all worried when you think I don’t notice."* A pause. *"Kinda sweet, really."*

Heat crept up Shadow’s neck. “I’m not *sweet.*”

Sonic hummed. *"Alright. If you say so, ‘Mr. Not Scared, Not Sweet.’”*

Shadow scowled, staring at the tea. He wasn’t sure if the thing in the light could get the same energy from a warm drink, but he’d brought it anyway. Stupid.

A moment of silence passed before Sonic spoke again, quieter this time.

*"I really do mean it, though. Thanks for the food."*

Shadow exhaled through his nose. “…Whatever.”

*"And not just that. You keep me company."*

Shadow didn’t respond.

Sonic’s voice was softer now, less joking. *"It gets lonely up here. The days all blur together. But when you’re here, it feels a little more real. Like I’m not just…"* The glow dimmed slightly. *"…I don’t know. Just a ghost in a lamp."*

Shadow’s chest tightened. He didn’t want to *feel* anything about that.

But he did.

Sonic chuckled, trying to lighten the mood. *"Plus, you’re a really good cook. Best meal I’ve had in… well, I guess forever."*

Shadow scoffed. “I don’t exactly have competition.”

*"Doesn’t mean it’s not true."*

Shadow didn’t respond. He just sat there, watching the golden glow flicker softly in the lantern room.

For once, he didn’t feel like running.

And that terrified him most of all.

Shadow didn’t realize how much of a routine he had built until it became impossible to break.

Each night, after finishing his logs, he would tell himself *I won’t go up there tonight.*

And yet, without fail, his feet carried him up the spiral stairs to the lantern room. A warm meal in his hands. A quiet, unspoken need pulling him forward.

Sonic never called him out on it.

Instead, he greeted Shadow like he had been *waiting.*

Like he *knew* he’d come back.

*"Y’know, you’re a man of habit."*

Shadow glanced up from his seat near the glass, where Sonic’s glow pulsed softly. “What?”

*"You always show up at the same time, always bring food, always sit in the same spot. Bet you eat the same breakfast every day too."*

Shadow rolled his eyes. “It’s called discipline.”

*"It’s called being predictable,"* Sonic teased, golden energy rippling with amusement.

Shadow tensed. *Was* he predictable? The thought unsettled him.

Sonic must have noticed his shift in posture, because his glow dimmed slightly, like he was trying to appear less overwhelming.

*"Hey, relax. I think it’s kinda nice."*

Shadow huffed. “You think everything is ‘kinda nice.’”

*"That’s because I don’t get much else,"* Sonic said, voice light but with an undercurrent of something heavier. *"Gotta take what I can get."*

That shouldn’t have *hit* the way it did. But it did.

Shadow focused on his hands, gripping his gloves tightly. He wanted to ask. Wanted to say something.

But he didn’t know *how.*

Sonic, as usual, filled the silence for him.

*"You know, I think I’m getting better at eating."*

Shadow raised a brow. “That’s a sentence I never wanted to hear.”

Sonic chuckled. *"No, seriously! The first few times I could only take, like, the heat or whatever. But now? I think I actually get a little flavor."*

Shadow frowned. “How does that even work?”

*"Dunno,"* Sonic admitted, eyes half-lidded as the light around him pulsed softly. *"But it’s the best thing I’ve had in forever, so I’ll take it."*

Shadow wasn’t sure how to respond to that.

Instead, he looked down at the food in his hands. At the meal he had made, mostly out of habit. The one he had started *portioning* differently without realizing it.

“…You really like it?”

Sonic blinked, surprised by the sudden question.

Then he grinned, energy crackling faintly around him. *"Yeah. Feels kinda human, y’know?"*

Shadow’s fingers twitched. He wasn’t sure why that made his chest feel *weird.*

He turned his head, staring out the window at the mist-covered ocean. “I don’t cook for ghosts.”

Sonic tilted his head. *"So what do you cook for?"*

Shadow swallowed. “People.”

Silence.

Then—soft, almost hesitant—

*"Thanks, Shadow."*

For some reason, that was the moment Shadow stopped being afraid.

The lighthouse was quiet. Not in a peaceful way—more like the hush after something breaks and no one’s quite sure what to do next.

Shadow didn’t hear the sobbing at first. He *felt* it. The kind of silence that vibrated too tightly, like a string pulled too taut. Then came the choked breath, muffled, the sound of someone trying not to be heard.

He moved up the stairs with quiet, measured steps. He always checked on the beacon when the light dimmed like this—but tonight felt different.

When he reached the lantern room, he stopped just short of the glass.

Inside, the light curled in on itself. Faint, flickering, like the remnants of a storm. A shape hunched low to the floor, barely coherent—limbs blurred, body undefined, weeping so softly the sound barely touched the walls.

It was the clearest shape Shadow had seen of this being as of yet.

“…Hey,” Shadow said.

The light jumped. Then turned its face—his face—toward him.

“I—I’m fine,” Sonic said quickly, voice hitched and shaky.

“You’re crying.”

“I *said* I’m fine.”

Shadow sighed. "It's okay not to be okay.”

Sonic blinked. For a second, something shifted in his glow—uncertainty, maybe, or disbelief. He rubbed at his face like it might erase the vulnerability leaking out. Not that it mattered since the tears evaporated before they hit the floor.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I don’t even know why I’m crying. It just—happened.”

“You don’t need a reason.”

Sonic let out a wet laugh. “You’re not good at this comforting thing.”

“I’m trying. “You’re leaking emotional distress at ten million lumens a second, its less than your usual fifty million lumens a second.”

Another pause. The light pulsed quietly in time with his breaths. He looked up again, voice softer now.

“The first memories I have… they’re of my own light. Just—blinding, stretching into the darkness. Hot. I couldn’t see anything. It hurt.”

Shadow said nothing. Just listened.

“I thought I was alone in there,” Sonic went on, voice cracking. “Until I saw something. Two red eyes. Just… staring at me through the glass. I thought it was a reflection at first.”

He looked up, meeting Shadow’s eyes.

“But it wasn’t. It was you. You didn’t know I was *me* yet. You just stared.”

“I did stare,” Shadow admitted, stepping closer to the glass. “I didn’t know what you were. This floating ball... an energy core of light that never went out. I was… curious. And maybe a little worried."

Sonic exhaled. “You were the first thing I ever saw.”

Shadow didn’t respond immediately. His eyes softened just a little and he stretched the corners of his mouth in as he swallowed a lump.

“You scared me,” Sonic confessed, letting out a weak laugh. “I thought you were an apparition, or a ghost at first. Then I realized you were real. *Someone* real.”

“I didn’t know back then that you were sentient..  When you moved—unfurled from that ball—I…” He glanced away briefly. “It surprised me. I thought I was alone up here with a weird power source that wouldn't go out.”

A power source...

"Some weird lantern you turned out to be."

Sonic groaned. “Don’t call me that.”

"Beacon-"

"Hmph."

“Glowstick?”

“*Don’t*.”

“…Noted.”

Shadow watched him a moment longer, then softened his stance.

“You remember my eyes,” he said.

“They’re hard to miss. Red. Sharp. You were scary then.”

“Really? Between all the teasing and jokes you make I didnt notice.”

Sonic laughed, tired but real. “You're not anymore. You show up when I cry. That’s not very monster-like.”

Shadow shrugged. “Even monsters have instincts.”

Sonic sobered. “I don’t remember who I am.”

Shadow looked at him again.

“I don’t even know my name,” Sonic whispered. “I just… woke up here. A body made of light and fragments of feelings.”

There was a beat.

“You don’t need to remember,” Shadow said quietly. “Not right now. You’re here. You’re alive. That’s enough.”

Sonic looked down.

“You’re the beacon,” Shadow added. “The blinding light at the top of the world. And I’m going to make sure that light stays okay.”

Sonic’s breath hitched again. Not from sadness, this time, but from something gentler. A warmth in his chest he hadn’t known how to name yet.

“Thanks,” he said softly. “Even if you did call me a glowstick.”

“Would you prefer moth-attractor 3000?”

Sonic groaned. “*Worse.*”

Shadow smirked—barely.

“Please don’t give me some edgy nickname like Inferna-Lux or whatever,” Sonic muttered. “I don’t need that in my life.”

Shadow said nothing. Just watched.

Then, under his breath, barely audible—

“…Firefly.”

“What?”

“Nothing.”

Sonic narrowed his eyes. “Did you just—”

“No.”

“You *did.*”

“I didn’t.”

“You called me *firefly!*”

Shadow turned toward the stairs. “Go to sleep.”

“You’re the worst!”

“Get some rest, Firefly.”

“SHADOW.”

Chapter Text

Shadow’s days had a rhythm.

Morning—if you could call it that in a place like this—began with system checks. He’d skim the diagnostics from the lower level while sipping coffee that somehow always managed to taste both too strong and not strong enough. Then, he’d ascend the narrow spiral staircase to the lantern room, mug in hand, eyes already flicking between dials and readouts. The tower was a maze of switches, coolant pipes, energy regulators, backup batteries. It demanded precision.

It wasn’t an old lighthouse, but was complex, engineered with a kind of obsessive brilliance that would make most people weep trying to follow the logic.

Shadow hadn’t wept. But he had sworn. A lot.

The first day he’d arrived, he thought the posting had been a scam.

Shadow now suspected the ad had been written by someone actively trying to get people speed-fired, as if it was never meant for anyone to have the position of lighthouse keeper this long.

Still, over time, it became routine. Something about it soothed him. The order. The repetition. He could predict his day to the second.

Except for the talking light in the glass chamber.

He watched Shadow every morning, every time Shadow did his rounds. Sometimes he flickered brighter when Shadow passed. Sometimes he dimmed when Shadow didn't look his way. Today, he was hovering quietly near the top of the chamber, curled in on himself, humming softly like static behind a wall.

Shadow didn’t speak. He didn’t always. They had an unspoken understanding. Sonic watched. Shadow worked.

He finished a round of checks, ran a calibration on the light’s rotation field, and left his half-finished coffee on the ledge while rerouting energy through one of the backup coils. It was second nature now. Flip, check, log. Flip, check, log.

He was halfway down the stairs before he realized.

The coffee.

He turned back with a sigh, grabbed the mug off the ledge, and took a sip.

Then paused.

He squinted into the cup.

“What did you do?” he asked aloud, voice low, already suspicious.

Sonic pulsed dimly from within the chamber. “What'd I do?”

Shadow turned his gaze toward him, expression flat. “It tastes like regret. It's not supposed to taste like that.”

“I didn’t do anything,” Sonic said innocently. A flicker of light sparkled like a grin.

“You licked my coffee.”

"Oh mh-hm yeah definitely, through the glass, sure.”

“You know what I mean- you absorbed something out of it.”

There was a guilty flicker. Sonic’s glow almost shifted into a sheepish hue of green.

Shadow stared at the mug in silence.

“I was curious,” Sonic offered. “You always drink it like it keeps you alive. I wanted to know what it ... 'tasted' like.”

“Well this felt like a betrayal,” Shadow muttered. He opened the door, stepped to the outer railing and dumped the remaining coffee down the lighthouse and rinsed the mug with clinical bitterness. “Never touch my coffee again.”

"Okay okay!"

Shadow pouted playfully, showing sonic he wasn't really mad. 

Sonic pulsed a shade brighter, clearly amused. “You know... you always start with that mug. Right hand. Second stair squeaks, you skip it. You hum when you’re checking the third panel, but only if you slept more than four hours. You forget to blink when you're running calibrations, and sometimes you talk to the machines under your breath like they’re gonna do what you tell them to.”

Shadow stiffened.

Sonic shrugged. “Just saying. You have a routine.”

Shadow glanced at him. “Don't you get bored of watching me?”

“I don’t have much else to do,” Sonic replied, a touch wistful now. “You’re the only thing in here that moves. And… I like watching you.”

That soft note of sincerity caught him off guard.

Sonic hovered closer to the glass, almost shyly now. 

“Thanks... for being here,” Sonic said. “Even if I still hate being called a glowstick.”

Shadow huffed softly.

“I wasn’t going to call you that.”

“Oh? Then what do you call me?”

There was a long pause.

“…Firefly.”

Sonic groaned, but the glow at his core pulsed with something warm.

“God, you’re such a dork.”

Shadow didn’t deny it.

It started with a name.

A stray radio transmission, crackling through the old receiver in Shadow’s quarters, barely audible beneath the static.

*"—logistics confirmed, lighthouse system stable. Cargo en route. The Doctor wants—"*

Shadow sat up sharply.

*"—Eggman expects results by next cycle—"*

Then, silence.

Shadow stared at the radio, pulse hammering. The name *Eggman.* It was barely spoken above a whisper these days, kept to back alleys and dark corners, but it was still there.

Once, he had been a public enemy—a madman building metal armies, trying to carve his empire into the world by force. But when that failed, he vanished underground, slipping into the shadows, weaving his way into black-market deals, smuggling routes, and quiet, ruthless control.

And now, Shadow had proof.

The lighthouse had always felt *off.* The job listing had been too convenient, the money too good for such a solitary position. And now, here was Eggman’s name, buried in transmissions meant to stay hidden.

Shadow pushed back from his desk, moving before he could stop himself. His feet carried him up the spiral staircase, toward the glow at the top of the tower.

Toward the thing that had been waiting for him.

He walked through the door (which he wedged open permanently since the incident on THAT faithful night of the storm) and stared at the light,  squinting his eyes.

*"You look tense."*

Shadow ignored the comment, stepping into the beam of golden light, gaze locked onto the glowing figure in the glass.

“Do you know the name *Eggman*?”

The reaction was instant.

The golden glow stuttered, pulsing unevenly, Sonic’s body tensing like a wire pulled too tight. His eyes darted away, fingers curling at his sides.

“…I don’t know,” he murmured. He sounded... afraid. Like he didn't WANT to know.

Shadow’s jaw tightened. “Think.”

Sonic swallowed, closing his eyes, expression twisting in frustration.

*"I’ve heard it before. I *know* I have."* His glow flickered like a candle in a storm, uneven and wild. *"It makes my skin crawl, but I don’t know why."*

Shadow said nothing, watching.

*"It’s like trying to grab smoke,"* Sonic muttered, voice strained. *"I get flashes—machines, steel, the feeling of *falling*—but I can’t hold onto any of it."*

Shadow folded his arms. “You weren’t always here.”

Sonic exhaled sharply. *"No."*

Shadow’s eyes flickered to the glass surrounding him. “You were put here.”

A pause. Then—

*"Yeah."*

Shadow’s fists clenched. He didn’t know why it made him so *angry.*

Maybe because he’d spent so long convincing himself that this talking light was just *part* of this place, some strange, ghostly thing tied to the lighthouse.

But now, there was no denying it.

He was a prisoner.

Shadow exhaled sharply. “What’s your name?”

Sonic blinked, caught off guard. *"What?"*

Shadow stepped closer. “Your name.”

For a moment, Sonic looked hesitant—like he wasn’t sure he still had the right to one.

Then, something in his eyes cleared.

And he said it.

*"Sonic."*

The room felt smaller. The air heavier.

Shadow felt the weight of it settle over him. And then—like a switch being flipped—*everything clicked.*

Sonic.

Not just *a* Sonic.

*The* Sonic.

The one who fought Eggman. The one who *beat* him. The one who vanished right around the time the doctor slithered underground, leaving only whispers in the wake of his absence.

Shadow’s blood ran cold.

“…You,” he breathed.

Sonic frowned. “What?”

Shadow didn’t answer. He couldn’t. Because the truth was staring him in the face, burning gold, locked in a cage that wasn’t supposed to be found.

Sonic hadn’t just been *put* here.

Eggman had *hidden* him.

And Shadow had walked straight into the middle of it.

"I need to think-" He ran out the door, down the stairs.

Shadow didn’t sleep that night.

He sat at his desk, staring at the untouched plate from dinner, listening to the waves crash against the rocks below.

He wasn't able to eat. It didn't matter he had tried anyways. He had just done it because of routine but that had shattered like glass now that he knew. He couldn't take a bite. Not when he realised WHO he had been talking to. Who he'd been keeping.

Sonic. *That* Sonic.

The one who was supposed to be *unstoppable.*

The one who had vanished without a trace.

Now he was locked in a lighthouse, burning like a never-ending flame.

And nobody knew.

Shadow ran a hand through his quills, exhaling sharply. It made *sense* now. Why Eggman was involved. Why this job felt too convenient.

The lighthouse wasn’t just for guiding ships—it was a power source. A cover.

And Sonic was the battery.

Shadow pushed away from the desk, heading upstairs before he could stop himself.

*"Couldn’t stay away, huh?"*

Sonic’s voice was light, but Shadow could hear the exhaustion beneath it. He was dimmer than before, his glow curling lazily around him, drifting like smoke behind the glass.

Shadow leaned against the railing, arms crossed. “How long have you been here?”

Sonic let out a breath. *"I don’t know."*

Shadow narrowed his eyes. “Guess.”

A pause. Then—

*"Years."*

Shadow’s stomach twisted.

Sonic shifted, stretching his arms over his head, forcing a grin. *"Not much else to do but sit around and look pretty."*

Shadow wasn’t amused. “You’re not a damn ornament.”

Sonic huffed. *"Tell that to 'Eggman'."*

Something sharp flickered in Sonic’s eyes then—something raw.

Shadow caught it, and before he could stop himself, he asked:

“What happened?”

Sonic went quiet.

His glow flickered.

Then, voice lower—*quieter*—

*"I guess I... lost."*

Shadow didn’t move. Didn’t breathe.

Sonic exhaled, shoulders slumping slightly.

*"I don’t know how. I don’t know when. I remember running. I remember fighting. And then—"* he gestured vaguely, "*—this.*"

Shadow’s grip tightened on his arms.

Sonic sighed, rubbing the back of his head. *"Guess he got tired of me wrecking his plans. Found a way to keep me out of the way permanently."* He let out a humorless chuckle. *"A walking power source, just sitting here, keeping his ships from crashing. Pretty useful, huh?"*

Shadow didn’t answer.

Because he was thinking about how *quiet* the world had been lately.

No big battles. No grand takeovers. No disasters.

And no one stopping Eggman from making his next move.

Because the one person who *could* had been erased.

And left to rot inside a lantern.

Shadow clenched his fists.

Sonic noticed. *"Hey."*

Shadow met his eyes.

Sonic tilted his head, studying him for a moment. His glow softened slightly. *"You’re mad."*

Shadow scoffed. “Of course I’m mad.”

Sonic blinked, as if he hadn’t expected that response.

Shadow took a step closer, staring through the glass. “You’re telling me Eggman shoved you in here, let the world move on, and you’re *fine* with it?”

Sonic shrugged, smiling, but it didn’t reach his eyes. *"What else am I supposed to do?"*

Shadow’s jaw clenched.

Then, voice low, steady, final—

“I’m getting you out.”

Sonic stared at him.

His glow flickered.

And for the first time in years, a spark of something real burned behind his eyes.

Sonic didn’t speak for a long time.

Shadow had expected disbelief, maybe even some kind of sarcastic remark. But instead, Sonic just… *stared* at him.

Like he couldn’t quite process the words.

Like no one had ever said them before.

Finally, he let out a breath, his glow flickering weakly. *"You say that like it’s easy."*

Shadow narrowed his eyes. “It’s not.”

*"Yeah. No kidding."* Sonic gestured around him. *"In case you haven’t noticed, I don’t exactly have an *off* switch. Even if you break the glass, I’m still stuck like this."*

Shadow frowned. That was true. He had never seen Sonic’s glow weaken completely. He wasn’t just *in* Super form—he was *trapped* in it. Forced to burn endlessly like the lighthouse itself.

Shadow crossed his arms. “Then we figure out why.”

Sonic sighed, pressing his forehead against the glass. *"You make it sound so simple."*

“It *is* simple.”

Sonic’s ear twitched. *"Oh?"*

Shadow held his gaze. “Eggman built this place. That means it can be *unbuilt.*”

Sonic’s glow rippled. His lips parted slightly, and for the first time, Shadow saw something new in his expression.

Hope.

But then, just as quickly, Sonic turned away. *"Even if you’re right, that means we have to go *down there* to figure it out."*

Shadow stiffened.

*"The basement,"* Sonic continued, eyes dark. *"You’ve been avoiding it since you got here, haven’t you?"*

Shadow didn’t answer.

Because Sonic was right.

The basement was the *one* place Shadow hadn’t bothered to explore. It had been off-limits in the contract, but more than that—something about it *felt* wrong. The air was thicker down there, heavy and still. Like something was *watching.* He only knew this because he had opened the door and stepped down a couple off steps a few times before going back up. At the time he had thought he heard strange noises coming from below but never had he thought them concerning enough to break the contract and investigate.

Sonic tilted his head. *"You’re not scared, are you?"*

Shadow shot him a glare. “No.”

*"Good,"* Sonic said, flashing a grin. *"Because if you really wanna get me out, that’s where you’ll have to start."*

Chapter Text

Shadow hadn’t gone down to the basement yet.

It wasn’t that he couldn’t— But he wouldn't admit that he was afraid.

Because he wasn't.

HE WAS NOT.

Besides he was distracted.

By an email from Rouge.

Honestly, he had opened his laptop to check if he had any other mails from work. But nope. A twitter notification here, a new microsoft login spotted there... 

He decided to click Rouge's email, unable to let it stare him in the face.

Subject: You alive or do I need to send a search party? 💅

From: Rouge the Bat
To: Shadow the Hedgehog
Date: xx/xx/20xx
Time: 02:43 AM

Hey, sunshine.

It's been, what—weeks? Months? I’ve lost track. That’s how long you’ve been ghosting me from whatever creepy lighthouse you decided to be dropped in. I’m assuming there’s no reception because you havent even texted me or responded to Omegas spam mails just once, and not because you’ve finally decided to join a sea cult or something. I hope the pay is worth it. Wait how much do you get?should be a lot right? Think theres a position open for me? ;D

Seriously though, you good?

Things here have been boring, you know no evil genius to take down or whatever. 

Just tell me you're alive. You don’t even have to say you miss me. You can type "K" and I’ll take it as an “I treasure our friendship dearly and am definitely not avoiding you because im definitely not a depressed little fuck who wants his alone time.”

And hey— if the quiet’s getting to you? You know me and Omega are here for you...

Waiting,
💋
R

P. S. If you die in there I swear I will dig you up and resurrect you just to yell at you.

He sighed, figured he should at least reply to it, since she had gone through the trouble of writing it at least. As well as Omega, according to Rouge, surprisingly. Rouge was correct, the internet was sheit here.

Wait, where were all these emails? He opened his spam folder. Ah. So that's where they went.

Wait...

how many-

how -

THIS WAS MADNESS!!!!

📁 Spam (5348565 247)

“ Messages filtered due to excessive use of ALL CAPS, unsolicited attachments, and declarations of emotional sabotage.”

HOW MANY GODDAMN FUCKING EMAILS WERE THERE-???

HE COULD SCROLL FOREVER!

Unread :

• 🔥 [URGENT] DESTROY SOMETHING WITH ME, COWARD
  Subject Line: “WE ARE WASTING VALUABLE COMBAT TIME. THIS IS WHY YOU ARE SAD.”
  Attachment: JPEG titled “sad.jpg” (a stick figure drawing of Shadow frowning)
  
  

• [PROXIMITY ALERT] I AM OUTSIDE YOUR BUILDING. WHY ARE YOU IGNORING ME.
  Subject Line: “I SAW YOU TURN OFF THE LIGHT. YOU ARE NOT SLICK.” (picture attached of Omega outside in the rain at the wrong lighthouse)
  

• 🥄 [I MADE YOU SOUP]
  Subject: “IT IS MADE OF BOLTS. AND LOVE.”
  Body: “I DO NOT UNDERSTAND ORGANIC COMFORT FOOD BUT I AM TRYING.”
  Attachment: A photo of a bowl full of nuts, bolts, and one single cherry tomato.

• [TRUST EXERCISE] LET ME THROW YOU INTO THE SUN TO SEE IF YOU GET STRONGER
  Subject Line: “IT IS A COMPLIMENT.”

• 🎯 [RE: RE: RE: RE: OUR PLATONIC VIOLENCE DATE]
  Subject: “WHY HAVE YOU NOT RESPONDED. I AM BEGINNING TO FEEL HUMAN EMOTION AND I DO NOT LIKE IT.”
  Attachment: A blurry photo of Omega sitting next to a pile of broken vending machines labeled “THOUGHTS.”

• [REPORT] I EXPLODED AN EGGMAN DRONE. IT WAS DELICIOUS. WOULD YOU LIKE TO EXPLODE ONE TOO?
  Body: “THERE IS ONLY A 12% CHANCE IT WAS SENTIENT.”

• [CULTURE DAY] I WROTE YOU A POEM ABOUT MISSILES.
  Attachment: PDF titled “LOVE_IS_AN_EXPLOSION.pdf”

• 🖼️ [CREATIVE OUTLET] I DREW US
  Subject: “THIS COULD BE US. DO NOT JUDGE ME.”
  Attachment: A child-like MS Paint masterpiece of Omega and Shadow holding what appear to be molotov cocktails.
  

• [AUDIO STIMULATION] I MADE A MIXTAPE OF EXPLOSIONS TO CHEER YOU UP
  (Omega has resent it 5 times.)
  
  
  

He almost put his hands over his face. "My fucking chaos-" He groans. 

Fine.
Fine. 

He woud open one.

Just one.

Subject: STATUS REQUEST // PROPOSED COMBAT OUTING

From: E-123 OMEGA
To: SHADOW THE HEDGEHOG
Date: [REDACTED]
Time: 04:01 AM

SHADOW.

YOU HAVE FAILED TO RESPOND TO MY PREVIOUS 53485653   MESSAGES.

CONCLUSION: YOU ARE EITHER MALFUNCTIONING OR BROODING IN AN UNSANCTIONED LOCATION.

CURRENT MISSION STATUS: INCOMPLETE. I HAVE NOT DESTROYED ANYTHING IN 17.3 DAYS. THIS IS UNACCEPTABLE.

SOLUTION: WE SHOULD REUNITE FOR A FRIENDSHIP- ENHANCING EXPLOSION EVENT. I HAVE SELECTED THREE POTENTIAL TARGETS FOR DESTRUCTION:

1. AN ABANDONED FACTORY FULL OF RUSTED MACHINERY. (SATISFYING COLLAPSE RISK: HIGH.)

2. A SMALL, USELESS AMUSEMENT PARK. (NO CHILDREN PRESENT. ONLY DOLLS. HAUNTED?)

3. EGGMAN'S OUTPOST #47. (DO NOT TELL HIM I KNOW ABOUT IT.)

AFTERWARDS, WE CAN DISCUSS YOUR EMOTIONAL TURMOIL OVER LUBRICANT- BASED BEVERAGES ( OR COFFEE. I UNDERSTAND YOU PREFER COFFEE).

I MISS OUR MISSION- BASED VIOLENCE.

PLEASE RESPOND WITH YOUR LOCATION OR A SUITABLE ALTERNATE TARGET.
IF YOU ARE INJURED, I WILL EXTRACT YOU. IF YOU ARE BROODING, I WILL WAIT OUTSIDE UNTIL YOU ARE DONE.

YOUR BESTIE
OMEGA

FRIEND UNIT: [ SHADOW] UNRECRUITED - IN PROGRESS
TARGET PREFERENCE: MAXIMUM DESTRUCTION
SETTING: “ MILDLY CONCERNED”

No. He was not responding. Last thing he needed was for Omega to come snooping around here. He needed the light house intact and working. He needed to figure out how to release Sonic from this prison without blowing it up. 

But secretly…
He scrolls back up.
And saves the molotov drawing to his hard drive.

And sets it as his background walpaper.

It seemed his distraction hadn't ended yet, because the next morning, faith decided to annoy him even more. Bad sleep, rough sea, and stress had all clawed at him.

and lastly, Sonic. (Deep sigh)

Or rather, whatever Sonic was. His containment chamber didn’t have direct controls—just readouts. Energy levels. Internal pressure. Pulse frequency. And lately, those frequencies had started behaving strangely.

Shadow hadn't thought much of it until... how should he even explain this?

First it was the radio.

It started, as always, too damn early.

Shadow blinked awake to the sound of soft static crackling from the corner of his room— the old radio on the shelf clicking into life.

He groaned, got up from the desk he'd fallen asleep at (computer screen black by now) and walked over to the bed. He laid down onto the soft mattress, nestling into it and laying there for a bit, kicking his socks off and falling into a soft snore.

And then:

“ Gooooooooood morning, grumpy boots!”

Shadow groaned, dragging a pillow over his face. “ No.”

“ Oh come on, I know you’re awake. I can hear your gross morning breathing.”

“ Sonic.”

“ Don’t make me do my radio voice.”

“ No—”

“ This is your ghostly glowing DJ GLOWSTICK, live from the glass cage of existential dread! Coming to you with the hottest hits and the coldest loneliness! ”

Shadow sat up, ran a hand down his face. “ It’s five in the morning.”

“ It’s lonely in here,” Sonic whined, voice crackling faintly with interference. “ You said you'd come by last night. You didn’t. You were checking eeeeee-maaaiillsssss- whose-everthoseare-”

“ I had reports to file.”

“ You had soup and fell asleep in your chair.”

“… How do you know that?”

“ You left the webcam on your laptop open.”

Shadow swung his legs out of bed, glaring at the radio like it had personally wronged him. “ Go back to sleep, Sonic.”

“ Can’t. Too much light in my body.  Also I miss you.”

There was a pause.

Sonic filled it with humming a tune on the radio.

Shadow sighed and stood, walking over to the radio, and picked it up. "Yes pick me up and together we shall-" He flipped the switch, cutting off Sonic mid- verse.

Silence.

Blissful, (temporary) silence.

Shadow trudged back to bed, buried himself under the covers, snuggling into the still warm blankets.

Click.

“ New feed unlocked, baby!” Sonic’s voice popped through again— this time from the old walkie- talkie on Shadow’s nightstand. “ You can’t keep me down!”

Shadow didn’t even open his eyes. He reached blindly and shut the walkie off with a deadpan flick.

Silence again.

He exhaled, tension melting. Pillow welcoming.

Then the microwave beeped.

Beep . Beep. Beep.

Shadow’s eyes snapped open.

“… No.”

From the kitchen: BEEP- BEEP BEEP- BEEP- BEEP BEEEEEP.

He launched out of bed like something had exploded.

Downstairs, the microwave was blinking “ 00: 00” like a countdown to chaos. Shadow stormed into the kitchen, glared at it, then looked up at the lantern room window high above— where a faint golden glow pulsed innocently.

“… You’re pushing it.”

The lighthouse trembled faintly as if with laughter .

“ Just wanted to see your face, grumpy.” The voice came through the old lighthouse speakers, which shadow previously had thought to be indisposed. 

"That's cheating." Shadow muttered under his breath, reset the microwave clock, and turned to go.

“ Hey,” Sonic said, softer now, slipping through the static on a nearby speaker.

Shadow paused.

“ You’ll come visit today, right?”

A long beat.

“… Yeah,” Shadow said finally. “ I will.”

“… Okay.”

The speakers clicked off.

Shadow stood there a moment longer, hand resting on the counter, eyes softening.

He’d never admit it aloud— but he missed him, too.

God help him.

True to his word, Shadow returned.

Sonic lit up brighter the moment the door to the lantern room opened, his glow flaring with what he hoped passed for casual brightness and not the full-body yay! it really was.

“ You came!” he said, bouncing lightly inside the chamber.

Shadow stepped inside, arms crossed. “ You microwaved my leftover curry at 5: 13 in the morning.”

Sonic grinned.

“ You owe me a new meal.” Shadow sighed.

“ I can't do that since im stuck and all buuuuuuuttttttt- I... beep the oven again?”

“ Don’t.”

There was a beat of shared stillness. Shadow looked around the lantern room like he was trying to spot something he’d missed before. Same wires. Same hum of machinery. Same strange, suspended glow— Sonic, floating midair like bottled sunlight.

But now, he looked at Sonic differently.

Maybe because he’d realized something lately.

Sonic wasn’t just in the lighthouse.

Sonic was the lighthouse.

Or at least, whatever power pulsed through it.

“ I’ve been thinking,” Shadow said.

Sonic blinked. “ Dangerous.”

Shadow ignored that. “ I want to see what you can do.”

Sonic tilted his head. “ Like... what kind of things?”

“ You accessed the radio. The walkie. The kitchen. That’s not just static manipulation.”

Sonic beamed. “ Yeah. I think I can reach stuff connected to the power grid. Even wireless stuff sometimes, if I focus.”

Shadow raised an eyebrow. “ So… could you turn on the fan in the other room?”

There was a pause. A faint crackle. Then the faint whirrrrr from below.

Shadow looked impressed. “ Huh.”

Sonic puffed up a little, proud. “ I got skills.”

“ What about something more delicate?”

“ Ooh, like what?”

Shadow reached into his pocket and pulled out his old PDA. He set it on a crate beside the lantern housing.

“Can you channel Radio waves into this? ”

A PDA couldn't do that on its own but but it could connect to other devices to then play music. 

The pause that came was long, but not because Sonic was unsure or dumbfounded, no, he was concentrating, staring at the device intently.

Then from the tinny speaker: a lo-fi beat began to play.

Shadow quirked a smile.

“ Shadow,” Sonic said seriously, “ I can be your Spotify Premium.”

“ I’m not paying you.”

“You’re always paying. In emotional vulnerability.”

Shadow huffed a laugh— quiet, soft. He stepped closer to the glass chamber.

“ You’re improving,” he murmured. “ It’s not just power. It’s… you. Your will.”

Sonic’s glow dimmed slightly. “ I don’t know how far it goes, though.”

“ You ever tried… reaching out physically?”

Sonic looked down at his own flickering hands. “ I don’t think I can.”

Shadow’s face shifted— something subtle. Something gentle.

“ That… that's not fair,” he said quietly.

A long pause stretched between them.

Sonic floated closer to the glass, his form soft and golden.

“ I think about it sometimes,” he whispered. “ Touch. Even just once.”

Shadow raised his hand, placing it against the glass.

Sonic instinctively mirrored him, his energy shimmering against the barrier. It wasn’t skin. It wasn’t contact. But something passed through it— a warmth that wasn’t heat. A flicker of connection.

“ I think you’d be good at it,” Shadow said softly.

Sonic laughed, a little shy. “ Touch?”

“ Holding someone. Being held.” He shrugged- Oh Chaos was he blushing!?

“… You volunteering?”

Shadow looked him in the eyes. Maroon to carmine. The soft red eyes Sonic had when he wasn't glowing above 1,000,000 lumens.

“ I might be,” he said after a pause. 

FUCK. HE WAS DEFINITEY BLUSHING NOW OH FUCK-

There was a beat of stunned silence, then:

“ Shadow,” Sonic groaned. “ Don’t be smooth with me, I’m already floating.”

Shadow smirked, tension in his stomach breaking, like a jar setting the butterflies free. “ You like it.”

“ I hate it.” He meant not being able to touch Shadow. They both knew thats what he meant, but Shadow couldnt stop himself from responding, “ You’re glowing brighter.”

“ Shut up.”

Shadow chuckled, turning to leave. He still had things to do.

“ Wait—” Sonic called.

Shadow paused at the door.

“… You can call me glowstick if you want.”

Shadow blinked.

“ I thought you hated that nickname.”

“I do,” Sonic muttered. “But it sounds nicer when you say it.”

Shadow hesitated a beat longer, then smiled— just barely.

“ Sleep tight, glowstick.”

The door clicked shut behind him.

And Sonic glowed brightly for hours.

He’d walked past the access door a hundred times. Once, he’d even held the keycard an inch from the lock before stepping away.

It wasn't just the rules that warned him against going down there. The contract, the email briefings, the "DO NOT ENTER" slapped across the hatch in industrial paint — all of that he could ignore. Rules were made to keep people quiet, not safe. No, it was the feeling of the place. The way the air changed whenever he walked past it. Like it breathed.

He’d avoided it for weeks. Kept busy. Focused on the routine. Kept Sonic — his light — talking, joking, burning bright in that glass room above. He made excuses. Told himself that whatever was down there could wait.

But none of that was true.

The truth was—

He was scared.

He shoved a piece of toast in his mouth and chewed mechanically.
“ Today,” he said aloud, to the empty kitchen.

“ I’ll go today.”

Sonic’s voice crackled faintly through the nearby walkie- talkie, chirping from upstairs. “ Did you say something?”

Shadow stood. Took a breath.
“ No,” he lied. “ Just thinking.”

“ About me?”

“… No.”

“ Yes you were.”

“… Eat your light or something.”

“ Shadow, that doesn’t make any sense.”

He turned off the walkie.

And this time, he didn’t pace by the basement door.
He walked toward it.

Because it was time.

Because he needed to do this.

For answers.
For closure.

For Sonic .

The descent started quiet.

Shadow felt something had pulled him. Restlessness. A thread in his chest he couldn’t untangle. 

The stairs down to the basement wound tighter than he remembered. Slick concrete. Rust creeping up the corners like something alive. As he went deeper, the temperature dropped— not gradually, but suddenly, like he’d crossed an invisible threshold. The chill didn’t feel natural.

The walls were lined with pipes, too many. Some ancient and crumbling, others newly installed with humming coolant tubes threaded through them like veins. The lighting overhead flickered, not with age, but with hesitation.

Shadow’s breath steamed in front of him.

The lighthouse above had always felt like a machine—but this? This felt like an organism. Something built not just to run, but to feed.

At the bottom of the stairwell was a door.

Steel, blackened and smooth, without a handle. It wasn’t locked.

It just waited.

Shadow stood in front of it, pulse crawling up the back of his neck. He placed his palm against it.

Warm.

Too warm.

He pushed.

The door groaned open, metal parting like old skin.

The room beyond wasn’t large, but it felt cavernous—because the air inside had been emptied. Like someone had pulled all the life out of it. It vibrated at the edge of hearing. A low hum threaded with a keening pitch, like a scream buried so deep it forgot how to escape.

Screens lined the walls, mismatched and humming softly. Most of them were blank. Others flickered with red data feeds in languages Shadow couldn’t read.

Cables crisscrossed the ceiling like spiderwebs.

And in the center of the room: a containment pod.

Not like the glass container upstairs. Older. Rougher. The glass was smeared with condensation and streaks that might have been fingerprints. The metal base throbbed softly, as if it had a pulse of its own.

Shadow stepped forward, slow. Careful.

He brushed his hand against the glass.

The condensation parted.

His own reflection stared back— until it blinked.

Shadow staggered back, heart jolting.

“ What—” he muttered, voice catching.

*"Well."* His voice was deeper, rougher, but unmistakable. *"Took you long enough."*

Shadow didn’t move. Couldn’t move.

Not a reflection.

Not a trick.

It was... Sonic.

Limbs thinner. Paler muzzle. Fur muted into something near- black. No gold. No glow. Only empty white eyes and the faint glint of— Red.

Faintly glowing. Unblinking. Watching him.

His instincts screamed at him—danger, threat, *wrong*—but his mind was still trying to *understand.*

*"Cat got your tongue?"* The dark Sonic tilted his head. His eyes glowed dimly in the low light. *"You were so chatty with the other me. What’s different now?"*

Shadow exhaled sharply. “You—”

*"—Shouldn’t exist?"* Sonic grinned wider, pressing a hand against the glass. *"Tell me about it."*

Shadow steadied himself. “What *are* you?”

Sonic’s expression flickered. For a moment, something like frustration flashed through his gaze.

*"You really don’t know anything, huh?"*

Shadow stayed silent.

Sonic leaned against the glass, fingers tapping rhythmically. *"I see what he sees, you know. The one upstairs. The one you’ve been *feeding.*"* His lip curled. *"I see the way you look at him. The way you trust him. The way you…*like* him."*

Shadow tensed.

Sonic’s voice dropped. *"That’s why you won’t help me, isn’t it?"*

Shadow’s fists clenched. “I didn’t say that.”

*"You didn’t have to."*

Shadow took a step forward. “Then explain it to me.”

The dark Sonic narrowed his eyes.

Shadow gestured at the room. “You clearly have all the answers. So talk.”

Silence.

Then—slowly, carefully—the dark Sonic inside the chamber leaned forward, his breath fogging up the glass.

*"You’re looking at what’s left of me."*

Shadow’s stomach twisted.

*"Eggman wanted my power, but I wouldn’t just hand it over. So he *ripped* it out."* Sonic lifted a hand, curling his clawed fingers. His voice dropped, cold and bitter. *"Everything that made me shine? Everything the world *loved* about me? He took it. Forced it into the light upstairs. And then he locked me down here to rot."*

Shadow’s throat was dry.

*"The one you know isn’t me."* Sonic’s eyes burned brighter. *"He’s *half* of me. A hollowed-out sun, built to burn forever."*

Shadow didn’t realize he had stepped closer until his breath hit the glass.

This Sonic… he was different. Sharper. Colder.

*Real.*

And he *knew.*

*"You’re afraid of me."*

Shadow froze.

The dark Sonic tilted his head, gaze unreadable. *"You don’t even know why yet, do you?"* His voice dipped, low and knowing. *"But I do."*

Shadow narrowed his eyes. “Enlighten me.”

Sonic’s expression darkened. He didn't respond to Shadow, instead he just coninued talking.

*"Because if it comes down to it—if you have to choose—you *won’t* pick me."*

Shadow felt something in his chest tighten.

Sonic grinned, but it didn’t reach his eyes. *"Go on. Tell me I’m wrong."*

Shadow didn’t.

Couldn’t.

Because he didn’t *know* yet.

But he *wasn’t* leaving this thing down here. Because he was sure that if he did, the one upstairs would get hurt too. They belonged together. A star couldnt shine without darkness, a sun cant make the day without the night. This was a part of Sonic and if he truly wanted to get Sonic out, he needed to accept all of Sonic.

“…I’m getting you out.”

Sonic blinked. His fingers twitched against the glass, as if he hadn’t expected that.

Shadow crossed his arms. “You heard me.”

A beat of silence.

Then, the dark Sonic inside the chamber cackled. Not lighthearted, not relieved—just *amused.*

*"Kheahhahahehahhhoho! You really are something else."*

Shadow exhaled sharply. “I get that a lot.”

Sonic leaned back against the glass, expression unreadable. *"Fine. Let’s see if you mean it."*

Shadow stepped forward, placing his hand against the chamber.

And for the first time in years, the dark Sonic felt something other than the cold.

He had been jealous before, of the attention his lighter half had been receiving. He was selfish. He knew that. But for now he would wait.

Shadow worked in silence.

His hands moved over the machine’s controls, flipping switches, adjusting dials. His movements were precise, calculated—but the machine didn’t respond. No unlocking mechanism. No emergency shutdown.

Nothing.

The chamber remained sealed, the dark Sonic still trapped inside.

And he was *laughing.*

Low, quiet chuckles that only grew louder the more Shadow struggled.

*"You actually thought it’d be that easy?"*

Shadow ignored him, fingers flying over the rusted keyboard built into the control panel. He scanned the screen, looking for anything—an override command, a release valve, *anything.*

*"You really are something else, huh?"* Dark Sonic leaned against the glass, watching him with amusement. *"The guy who barely knew my name a few days ago is suddenly my big hero?"* He smirked. *"It’s cute. Stupid. But cute."*

Shadow clenched his jaw, keeping his focus on the controls.

The Sonic inside the chamber just shook his head, stretching his arms behind his head lazily. *"Face it. You’re wasting your time."*

The machine gave an angry *beep* as another override attempt failed.

Dark Sonic’s grin widened. *"Ohhh, I *love* this part. This is where you give up, isn’t it?"*

Shadow didn’t respond.

*"Go on."* The glow in his eyes sharpened. *"Say you’re done. Say you’re heading back upstairs. Say you’re picking *him* over me."*

Shadow exhaled through his nose and turned away.

Dark Sonic’s expression flickered.

*"Figures."* His voice was quieter now, but no less bitter. *"Just like I said. You—"*

The door slammed shut.

Dark Sonic blinked.

Then scowled, pressing his fingers against the glass. *"Really? Not even a goodbye? Not even a *sorry*?"*

Silence.

Dark Sonic let out a slow breath and slumped back against the glass. He stared at the dark ceiling, tracing patterns in the cracks above.

This was what he expected.

What he *knew* would happen.

So why did it sting?

He sat there, unmoving, for what felt like an hour. Maybe more. The room never changed. The machine still hummed, the air still crackled.

Nothing.

Just him.

He held back tears.

Why?

Why had he been so annoying?

So rude to someone who tried to help him? 

Then—

The door opened.

Dark Sonic jerked upright.

Shadow stood in the doorway. He didn’t say a word, didn’t make eye contact.

He just stepped forward and placed something in front of the chamber.

A bowl.

Dark Sonic stared at it, blinking. “…What?”

Steam curled from the dish, thick with the scent of something *real.* Not cold rations. Not the tasteless, processed meals Eggman’s machines used to dump in here before they’d stopped altogether.

No.

This was warm.

Homemade.

Dark Sonic swallowed. “…You—?”

“Eat,” Shadow said, cutting him off. His voice was flat, unreadable. “Or don’t. I don’t care.”

Dark Sonic hesitated.

Then, carefully, he pressed his hand against the glass.

And just like that, the glow in his eyes flickered, his aura shifting—just for a second.

The bowl wobbled.

The pasta lifted.

And then—like light being absorbed into a void—it simply *vanished.*

Dark Sonic exhaled sharply.

Shadow didn’t react. He just crossed his arms, watching.

Dark Sonic licked his lips, feeling warmth bloom in his chest. *Real* warmth, not artificial energy, not the cold hum of the machine.

He let out a quiet, breathless laugh.

*"…Pasta, huh?"*

Shadow shrugged. “Who refuses pasta?”

Dark Sonic chuckled, the sound almost *genuine.*

He sat back, looking at Shadow—really *looking* at him.

*"You’re serious about this, aren’t you?"*

Shadow didn’t answer.

He just *stayed.*

Chapter Text

Shadow climbed the lighthouse stairs, his thoughts tangled in ways he hated. The storm had passed days ago, but inside his head, something still raged.

He had expected answers.

Instead, he found *another* problem.

At the top of the lighthouse, the golden glow of the beacon pulsed steadily. Sonic—*the light Sonic*—floated within the glass chamber, like some damn super-boy, his body suspended in the air like a sun frozen mid-rise. His energy hummed through the air, gentle but constant, washing over the room in waves.

The moment Shadow stepped in, Sonic’s head lifted. His usual easy-going grin flickered onto his face.

“Hey, stranger,” Sonic greeted, tilting his head. “Back already? Miss me?”

Shadow ignored him.

“We need to talk.”

Sonic raised an eyebrow. “Oh? Sounds serious.”

Shadow crossed his arms. “Why didn’t you tell me there’s another you in the basement?”

The grin on Sonic’s face dropped.

“…What?”

Shadow didn’t blink. “The basement. The machine. The *other you.*” His voice was sharp, cutting through the hum of the room. “You didn’t think to *mention* him?”

Sonic stared at him.

Then laughed—light, confused. “Uh, hold up. I think you’re gonna have to run that one by me again.”

Shadow frowned. “You’re saying you didn’t know?”

Sonic spread his hands. “Buddy, I *literally* have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Something in Shadow’s stomach twisted.

He had assumed—no, *expected*—Super Sonic to know. The way the dark one had spoken, the way he had *seen* through the eyes of the light—Shadow thought they were connected.

But now?

Sonic’s reaction wasn’t fake. He wasn’t lying.

Shadow’s mind raced.

The communication only went one way.

Whatever the dark one knew, *this one didn’t.*

Shadow exhaled sharply. “This is a problem.”

Sonic’s eyes narrowed slightly. “Shadow, slow down. What do you mean, ‘another me’?”

Shadow’s expression was unreadable. “Eggman split you in two. Literally.”

Sonic blinked.

Shadow continued, voice firm. “He tore you apart. Separated your power, your *light*, and forced it into this.” He gestured toward the glass chamber. “You. The beacon. But what was left of you—the *other* you—is still trapped below. He’s not like you at all. He probably thinks I hate him-” Shadow kept ranting.

Sonic’s breath caught in his throat.

He looked down at his own hands, golden light flickering over his fingers.

Split.

His stomach churned.

Shadow didn’t rant. He only became a verbally yapping rattling chatter head when something shook him…

“You’re serious.”

Shadow’s glare deepened. “I wouldn’t waste my time lying.”

Sonic’s fingers curled, his mind reeling. He tried to *remember*—to search for something, *anything*—but there was *nothing.* Only fog where memories should be.

“…How bad is he?”

Shadow hesitated. He thought of the bitter smile, the sharp-edged words. The *anger.*

“…He’s not happy.”

Sonic swallowed. “Yeah, I bet.”

Silence stretched between them, heavy and tense.

Sonic’s voice was quieter when he spoke next. “…And you wanna get us both out of here.”

Shadow nodded once.

Sonic exhaled. “Okay. Say you do. Say you bust us out.”

He looked at Shadow, gaze serious.

“What happens *after*?”

Shadow tensed.

Sonic’s voice was steady, but there was something underneath it—something unsure. “I mean, you *know* what’s gonna happen, right? This lighthouse? It’s not just some rickety old tower. It’s part of a *system.*” He gestured vaguely around them. “Eggman built it. He’s running *something* through here. And if you take me out?”

Sonic’s expression darkened. “He’s gonna *know.*”

Shadow’s jaw clenched.

Sonic wasn’t wrong.

The lighthouse wasn’t just a building. It was a machine, part of a *network* that Eggman had built in the shadows, away from the world’s eyes. Shadow had taken the job because he wanted isolation. He hadn’t asked questions.

But if he tore it down—if he *freed* Sonic—then Eggman *would* find out.

And Shadow would be the first one on his list.

“…I don’t care,” Shadow said finally.

Sonic looked at him, startled. “What?”

Shadow met his gaze. His voice was firm, unwavering.

“I said, I don’t care.”

Sonic’s eyes widened.

Shadow exhaled sharply. “I’m not leaving you here.”

Sonic stared.

For the first time, he didn’t know what to say.

Shadow turned away. His fist clenched at his side. “You don’t belong in a cage.”

Sonic swallowed, something unreadable flickering across his face.

“…Neither does he.”

Shadow didn’t look back as he left the room.

But Sonic sat there for a long time, watching the glow of his own light flickering in the glass, trying to remember something—*anything*—about the other half of himself.

The radio crackled to life again. He looked at his clock. Shadow groaned and buried himself in a pillow. “Firefly, it's *four a.m.*”

Except… the voice that came out wasn't Sonic’s voice. Well it was but not… not the one from upstairs. Not the super Sonic.

A soft, static-laced hum filtered through the walkie-talkie on his nightstand. Not cheerful. Not dramatic. Just… distant. Like it had been recorded underwater, then played back on tape left too long in the sun.

 “...can you see… all of me… walk into my mystery…”

Shadow sat up. Slowly.

A sob muffled the walkie.

He turned on the light.

The room was *red.*

His heart kicked like a loaded weapon in his chest.

He got out from bed, muscles coiled. Something buzzed faintly in the background, a low hum threaded through the walls. The softest vibration of static. The speakers…

He came down the stairs and stepped into the hallway.

That’s when he saw it.

The mirror at the end of the corridor stood just a few feet tall—just enough to catch his full reflection in the thick red light.

But the shape looking back at him wasn’t right.

Shadow froze.

The crimson wash distorted everything. His spines looked sharper. His frame longer. His eyes—too wide, too red.

His own face leered back at him, not blank but twisted—an echo of a nightmare he didn’t remember having.

“Ghh—!” His breath caught. It wasn’t a scream, not exactly—but the noise tore out of his throat before he could stop it. Reflexive. Mobian.

From the walkie on his nightstand, Super’s voice crackled, concerned and groggy.

“...Did you just scream? Was that a scream? Shadow?”

Shadow didn’t answer.

He turned away from the mirror like it might reach out and drag him in. His paw pads hit the floor harder than usual as he stormed toward the basement stairwell, fast and angry.

The red lights followed.

The basement was already glowing by the time he opened the heavy door.

Every bulb had been dimmed to a dull crimson, like something out of an emergency lockdown. The song still drifted through the air—just barely.

“Step inside and hold on… for dear life-”

Shadow flung open the door to the containment area. “Put the lights back to normal,” he growled.

Dark Sonic sat on the floor like a shadow peeled off a wall. His knees were drawn up, arms looped over them, head down.

“I said put the lights back.”

“I like the red,” Dark murmured. “It suits you.”

“It makes me want to punch a mirror,” Shadow muttered.

Dark snorted quietly, but it sounded like it might turn into a sob.

“Couldn’t you just tell me you needed company?” Shadow asked, more softly now.

“I didn’t say I wanted company,” Dark whispered. “I just sang. Song’s been stuck in my head.”

Shadow hesitated. “...‘All of Me,’ from Crush 40, right? That’s… old.”

Dark’s eyes—red, yes, but not cruel—lifted to meet his.

“Felt fitting.”

Shadow didn’t say anything.

The lights dimmed. A soft click. One by one, they returned to their normal glow.

“Thanks,” Shadow murmured, rubbing his eyes.

Dark looked away. “He calls me broken. Sometimes. Not out loud. But I hear it when he thinks. Glowstick thinks he’s better.”

Shadow frowned. “He doesn't. Not really.”

“He does.” Dark’s voice was flat. “Because he shines. And I don’t. He hates me. The thought of me alone sends shivers down his spine. I bet even his bones give off light. You probably hate me too.” he groaned, rambling softly.

Shadow crouched down in front of the glass. “I don’t hate you.”

Dark blinked. “...You should.”

“I don’t,” Shadow repeated. “You’re part of him. And you’re part of what makes him whole. I see you both.”

Dark muttered, “You like the shiny part more.”

Shadow didn’t deny it. But he didn’t agree, either.

“I’m watching you both,” he said. “You both matter. Even when you drive me insane.”

Dark grimaced. “Glowstick.” He blamed.

“Don’t call yourself out like that,” Shadow muttered automatically.

Dark smirked faintly. “He doesn’t even *mind* the name.”

“Doesn’t matter,” Shadow said. “I’m not feeding your self-loathing tonight.”

Dark looked at him. “You think this is just tonight?”

Shadow stood. “I think you're tired.”

“I *am* tired,” Dark whispered. “Of being the part he doesn’t want.”.

Shadow stood just beyond the glass, arms folded, gaze unreadable.

“…You can gloat if you want,” Dark said after a long silence, voice dry and scratchy. “You were right. The lights were too much. I’m just a cheap trick with a mood switch.”

“I didn’t come down here to fight you.”

Dark blinked up at him. Shadow sighed and sat against the glass wall outside the containment chamber, legs drawn up. “I came to talk.”

“Oh, that’s even worse.”

Shadow’s smirk was faint, but real. He stared ahead at nothing for a long moment before he spoke.

“I never told you how I ended up here, did I.”

Dark was immediately cautious. “I figured you were some kind of vigilante loner type with a tragic past.”

“…Close.”

He exhaled through his nose.

“I’m a weapon. Or I was. G.U.N. made me as a countermeasure. Not just for Eggman. But for *you.* Eggman’s forces were spread far and wide. While you fought in the West, I was deployed in the East. Sometimes I’d see newspapers with a photo or a big title. ‘Sonic saved the day’. But not everyone rooted for… him, and G.U.N. didn’t want to take any chances.” His eyes flicked toward Dark.

“So you’re like a plan B,” Dark said dryly. “Nice. Nice to meet you, Bonic.” 


Shadow glared at the pun but then sighed. Dark Sonic gave him a shrug.

“I wasn’t meant to live a life. I was an insurance policy.” He pauses, clenching a hand.

“…So what happened?”

“Project decommissioned. Sonic vanished. Eggman gone. I was no longer needed.” He shrugged slightly. “So G.U.N. tried to shelve me. Cryo-stasis. Cold storage.”

Dark’s throat tightened. “Like… Like me… right now.”

“They said it was a safety measure.” Shadow gave a humorless laugh. “Said I was a ‘liability.’ Told me I’d served my purpose.”

Dark watched him, eyes shadowed, no snark in sight.

“So I fought for it. My right to stay awake. To live my own life, even if it’s a quiet one.”

“And they let you?”

“They assigned a handler. Omega. Gave me limited freedoms.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “Which is how I ended up here, in this lighthouse. Part job, part self-exile.”

Dark stared at him for a long time.

“You ran to a lighthouse,” he said finally, voice thick. “To be alone.”

“I ran to a lighthouse,” Shadow corrected, “because it’s the first place in my life that didn’t feel like I’d be watched every single day.”

Dark looked away. His voice trembled. “You know… didn’t have to tell me all that.”

“I know.”

“Why did you?”

Shadow leaned forward slightly, eyes steady.

“Because for all your noise and red lights and drama,” he said quietly, “I know you’re scared. I know you think no one sees you. But I do.”

Dark swallowed hard, jaw tight.

“…I don’t know how to be… anything without him.”

“You don’t have to be anything.” Shadow’s voice was firm. “You just have to be you.”

“…You’re really okay with having both of us around?”

“You’re not a danger.”

Dark gave a weak huff. “Yet.”

“I’d rather deal with your bad moods than let you rot in silence.”

Dark blinked fast, scrubbing his face with his arm like he wasn’t almost crying. “…You’re lucky I like you,” he muttered.

“Tell your lights that,” Shadow deadpanned.

There was a pause—and then, soft and slow, the hue in the room shifted to a dim, gentle blue.

Dark didn’t say anything else.

But he left the walkie on that night.

Just in case.

Shadow settled into the familiar rhythm of evening visits—first the lantern room, where Super Sonic hovered like a flickering flame trapped behind glass, and then the basement, where Dark Sonic lingered in shadows, silent and distant.

Super was restless that evening. His usual glow was dimmer, edges flickering as if the energy tether that held him together was fraying. But whenever Shadow tried to probe, to mention Dark, Super’s light shifted nervously, retreating behind jokes and distractions.

“You know,” Super said, eyes fixed on the open sky beyond the lighthouse windows, “the seagulls are quite interesting to watch. That fat one right there- that one’s Lafayette.”

Shadow glanced up at the bird perched on the railing—a white speck against the darkening sky.

“Lafayette?” Shadow repeated, eyebrow raised.

“Yeah, “le-fat-jet”. He’s the sneaky type, always trying to steal another bird’s snack.”

Shadow smirked despite himself. “Fat jet? So he’s fast enough to steal a bite but wont do it for anything else huh?”

“Yes! And there’s that couple over there—Monica and Julio. Monica totally stole Angelica’s chick last week. Tried to peck her eye out in the process.”

Shadow laughed quietly, shaking his head.

“Sounds like a Hispanic telenovela out here.”

Super’s light brightened a fraction.

“Exactly! If you think our situation’s complicated, you should see the seagull politics.”

Shadow watched the birds squabble, their harsh cries mixing with the ocean breeze.

But beneath the banter, he saw the tension in Super’s flicker. The avoidance. The quiet fear.

Shadow leaned against the window frame, arms crossed, as Super Sonic’s glow dimmed with a nervous edge.

“So, you really don’t want to talk about Dark,” Shadow said quietly.

Super shifted, eyes darting to the flock of seagulls circling outside.

“Not avoiding it,” he said fast. “Just... seagull drama is way more interesting.”

Shadow raised a brow. He definitely was avoiding it, but shadow didn’t want to push. He needed a break from this all too.

“Oh? Pray tell.”

Super’s light flickered with excitement. “Okay, so listen. There’s this one seagull—Michael. Total player. I swear he’s got like a dozen chicks circling him. Yesterday, he was caught stealing a fish from Monica.”

Shadow snorted.

“I figure she’d be mad, she needs that food for her stolen chick.”

“Oh, she is.” Super leaned in, voice dropping to a whisper. “And- Monica and Julio used to be the hottest couple in the flock—until Monica found out Julio was cheating with a newcomer, Veronica. Total scandal. So, Monica pecked Julio’s eye out last week. Blood everywhere.”

Shadow blinked. “Wait but didn’t she already do that to Angelica?”

“Right? But wait, it gets better. Veronica, the new girl, tried to sneak back into the flock—only to be chased off by Lafayette. Turns out, he’s not just fat—he’s fat and territorial.”

Shadow crossed his arms tighter, trying not to laugh.

“Sounds like you found better entertainment than watching me.”

“Exactly! -No offense-” Super said, lighting up. “All this passion, betrayal, power plays. I think they’re even plotting a coup against the seagull king.”

Shadow smirked. “And you’re invested in this... ‘Tellegullovela’?”

“Hey, sometimes you need a distraction,” Super shrugged, eyes softening. “Besides, if they can survive all this drama, maybe we can too.”

Shadow looked at him, the faintest smile tugging his lips.

“Maybe, Firefly.”