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(No One's POV)
(Y/N) sat in the corner of the dimly lit room, her body curled tightly into itself like a wounded animal. The cold metal walls around her felt like they were closing in, pressing the air from her lungs. Her limbs trembled-not from fear exactly, but from exhaustion, from heartbreak, from the raw, gaping emptiness clawing at her chest.
The door creaked open with a slow, almost reluctant groan. She didn't look up at first. She didn't want to. She was too tired. Too broken.
Footsteps crossed the threshold, steady and deliberate. Then a voice-low, almost mechanical in its attempt at kindness-spoke.
"The doctor said you needed to drink this."
It was Shadow.
(Y/N) slowly lifted her head just enough to glimpse him through the messy curtain of her hair. Her bloodshot eyes flickered over the small bottle he placed carefully on the floor, as if even that small offering carried the weight of a thousand unspoken words.
"It's to keep you hydrated," he added, standing rigidly a few feet away, almost like he was afraid he might break her by getting too close.
She said nothing. Only lowered her gaze and buried her face back into her arms, shutting him out, shutting everything out.
Shadow stood there, unsure. Eggman had ordered him to check on her, to make sure she didn't "malfunction." But somewhere deep in his chest-where a heart should have been-Shadow felt something twist painfully. A whisper of a feeling he couldn't quite crush.
Pity.
He hated the word. Hated how it clung to him like a disease.
Eggman had shown him her files, after all. Had explained her "specs" and her "limitations" like she was some kind of toy he'd built wrong.
In a way, Shadow understood her better than anyone. They were both made for someone else's purposes. Both trapped by choices they never made.
Still, he couldn't understand why she fought so hard against them. Against him. Against everything.
"You need to drink so your systems can work properly," Shadow said again, his voice firmer, trying to mask the uncomfortable emotion scraping at his throat.
(Y/N) didn't move. Didn't even flinch.
"Don't speak to me like you know me," she muttered, her voice rough and cracked. "Like you know anything about me..." She hugged herself tighter. "My readings indicate you're upset. You're mad. Well, good. I don't talk to bullies who hurt the people I love."
Her words hit him harder than any physical blow could have. Still, he said nothing. Only stared at her for a long moment-the way her shoulders shook, the way her goggles hung brokenly over one eye-and then silently turned and walked away.
