Reflections - Epilogue

One week later

“Can I get anything else for ya?”

“For the last time, Sonic, no.”

Shadow sat upon his bed, gazing outside absentmindedly. Indeed, after agreeing to join Sonic’s little team and began staying at his home, Shadow had been feeling a lot better physically and mentally. It was nice to have a proper roof over his head; he found it interesting that the citizens of nearby Westopolis had constructed Sonic and his friends that very house out of the goodness of their hearts. They did so shortly after the events of the Perfect Chaos incident—the townsfolk were increasingly grateful that their area was not affected by the water monster.

“Their city council kept insisting that ‘it was the least they could do’ and stuff, but I mean, we’re just doing our jobs, you know?” Sonic had told Shadow at the start. “But a home’s a home. We’ve had a spare bedroom for years, and now here you are!”

It had been a week since then. Shadow’s wounds were slowly healing, albeit slower than when he was with Black Doom constantly, but with Amy’s rather forceful help, he remained in his room and relaxed constantly. The pink hedgehog constantly brought food and water to Shadow, even though he insisted he didn’t need to eat. (Out of guilt, he did clean his plate—save for any meat, of course.) But overall, Shadow was content with his new home. All that was left for him was to actually leave his room and look about the place further.

Yet even after a week—after his wounds had completely healed and he felt perfectly reinvigorated—Amy refused to grant Shadow access to outside of his room. So, on a daily basis, Shadow sat on his bed, watching the outside world in all its glory. The occasional bird would zoom by; a few lingering leaves would finally depart their barren branches. Shadow heaved a sigh, falling onto his back and staring at the ceiling.

“Alright, alright,” Sonic said, smiling to himself. “You stay in bed and...well, stay there.”

Not like I have any choice, Shadow thought angrily.

“I’m gonna go into town and see how reconstruction’s going, okay? I’ll be sure to let you know if I find any stragglers.”

And there was also that matter.

Shadow had told Sonic everything as soon as he had recovered tremendously. He remembered as clearly as if it was the day before; all the emotions that cycled through him, wondering if he would be turned away because of what he did—it made him feel ill. Yet surprisingly enough, Sonic seemed happy that Shadow had did what he did. The blue blur smiled, assuring Shadow that it was the right thing to do and that he was proud of him. Sonic...proud of him. He didn’t like the sound of that.

The blue hedgehog left Shadow’s room with a mere wave of the hand, and Shadow was left alone yet again. His door was open, he realized. Why didn’t he just go and ignore that girl’s orders? Perhaps he had gained a strong sense of respect for her. In exchange for nursing him back to health, it was the least he could do. But what did he care...?

“Hey, um, Shadow?”

The black blur’s ears twitched at his name. Sonic had returned to Shadow’s doorway, a small envelope in his hand.

“What?”

“This was at the bottom of the stairs...it has your name on it,” Sonic approached Shadow’s bedside, taking a curious sniff of the paper. He blinked. “Smells funny, too. You wanna check it out?”

Shadow took the envelope from his new teammate’s hands and inspected it. Indeed, his name was printed on the front, but it was in a strange lettering—almost as if English was not the writer’s first language. Yet there were serifs about each letter, elegantly scripted with black ink. Interested, Shadow turned it over and broke the envelope’s small seal. Several slips of parchment were folded neatly inside. He cast a quick glance to Sonic, who stood there in greater curiosity. That mere glance was enough to prompt Sonic to leave, however.

“I’ll get going, okay? Take your time with that.”

Finally, he was gone. As soon as he was alone, Shadow carefully removed the papers, unfolded them, and almost instantly his eyes widened at the text:

“Shadow,

How are you faring since our parting? You were not nearly as injured as I, so I trust you healed much faster. I, on the other hand, am thankful for ambidexterity, as my right arm is still recovering. But I digress—enough depressing talks, yes?

I came home to find my Mother had restored every inch of the Comet. I’m so very thankful! There are many foreign teas here that mean a great deal to me; to lose them would devastate me. I am very eager for you to try them. I steep mine for a very long while. How long do you steep yours? Be sure to figure that out before I come back.

I have found difficulties in restoring our numbers, however. I feel that even though revealing this information to you could be uncomfortable, you deserve to know. You are family, aren’t you? I’m working very hard, though; it is a matter of focusing energies, dividing them, visualizing—it’s very complicated. Within these past days I have done nothing but rest, yet my mind is occupied with this issue. Hopefully it will resolve itself soon.

I grow tired of writing with this hand. It’s been a very long time! I would have gotten this to you sooner if I was not so paranoid about your whereabouts. You seem to have found a place to settle, though. If you do get this, would you send a reply of sorts? I need something to read, after all...

As to how to send: think nothing but of me. The Black Comet, still lingering above Earth (we’re out of sight from your satellites, rest assured.) Then teleport your message. It will be easy! I trust in you dearly. I will be in reach of you for a few Earth months as we recoup and recover. I shall let you know when I will no longer be able to receive messages from you.

For your brothers and my sakes, take care of yourself.”

At the bottom was a strange signature that consisted of foreign characters, all new to Shadow’s eyes. Yet he somehow found familiarity in them; he knew it said “father”. Shadow smiled. He read the letter once more, hearing Black Doom’s voice speaking every word, and he once again felt the closeness. It was as if Black Doom were sitting next to him.

There was no time to lose. He sprang from his bed, and, respecting Amy’s rules, ran to the door and clung to the frame.

“Amy, bring me some paper and a pen,” he shouted to the hallway. Never before had he felt so eager to do something in his life. The pink hedgehog appeared at the bottom of the stairs, looking up at Shadow.

“Huh? Why?” she asked.

“I need to write a letter,” Shadow explained, “for my father.”