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hoardcloneheadcanons · 16 days ago

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I Was Not Built to Handle Emotions

Agent Stone has not felt anything resembling distinct emotion in a good 20 years. When he starts feeling things around Robotnik he does not know how to handle it. An account of their early interactions.

Trigger Warnings: Depression, Work Burnout, Self Harm, Murder and Amputation in passing, Emotional Repression and Possessive Behavior

I got deeply inspired by @technically-human comic post here and this one here

I've been enjoying her work since March and find it deeply inspiring for fic writing.

Agent Stone's heart had been a cold, numb thing for decades.

In a time when he had a name, before he'd blacked it out of every record book and deleted it from every database he could find, he'd had grandparents.

His Teta and Jido. He had been a foolish, passionate mistake of his parents, and his Teta and Jido had been the ones to raise him while his parents kept making passionate, foolish messes.

He did not feel attached to his functional cousins with functional parents who adapted to their adopted country so well.

He did not feel attached to the other children around him. They were noisy, messy, emotional and ill-behaved.

But he was attached to his grandparents. He listened to their stories, and their grumblings, and loved it when they shared their interests with him. His Jido built bird fountains and gardened, and his Teta read books that she'd share with him. He'd lean over her lap and look at the pages.

Then they got older, and he had to help them out more. Jido’s hands shook, Teta’s eyesight got worse, and both needed help reading the smaller labels on their medication.

Then they died and his parents attempted to raise him.

Him, who had been taking care of their parents for years, going to doctor's visits in their stead.

He responded by smiling, playing the part of the dutiful son, graduating early, and going into the military.

He followed orders well. it wasn’t so different from playing the part of the dutiful son. And suddenly his lack of attachment and quiet nature became his greatest boons, and he was encouraged to nurture them. It didn’t matter what he was asked to do. It could be murder, maintenance, security or covert operations, he'd become the best at it and feel nothing.

When he was offered the promotion into a covert special agent for "The Agency" (what was known as G.U.N. before the incident of the Shadow project, and what would be known as G.U.N. again, once the scandal had faded) they told him that he may never speak to his family again. They said it as if it was a warning rather than the ribbon-wrapped gift it was.

It was no big event for him to rip out his name. It was his father's. He had no attachment to it.

For a while, everything was good as he became a cold, unyielding machine handed award and merit.

But after a good 20 years of dutifully ripping out his emotions for the military he was growing numb, and unmotivated.

He was at a point of plateau where he didn’t feel like he had anything to move forward or progress to when that had been his main drive.

He began to leave behind pieces of necessary equipment, injure himself before his assignment just to see if he could still do it with the handicaps. Just to feel some sort of stakes.

He succeeded several times before It caught up with him.

It was a small terrorist cell; he was disabled and eliminated. And for the record he did disable them, he cut off their ability to communicate with their allies and destroyed all their weapons.

But he’d gotten too invested in hurting them and humiliating rather than just killing them, and a few of them had gotten away, dragging away their bleeding and flayed limbs behind them.

Stupid. He's ashamed to admit that before he'd seen their truck drive away and MISSED THE SHOT at the wheels, he'd been overconfident and having fun. Stupid.

He was suspended after that. For six months. In his commanding officer’s opinion Stone needed a change of pace. They were calling it an enforced vacation. He hadn't had a break in years. It was understandable that he'd be slipping. He needed to get his head together.

Stone responded, by going above his commanding Officer’s head to Commander Walters, and volunteering to be a lab assistant for Dr. Robotnik.

It was a plan he'd had in his back pocket for years in case anything like this happened.

Robotnik chewed through agents, tormenting them so they were forced to quit without technically violating the terms of the contract that required he have one on hand.

Agent Stone knew that Commander Walters was desperate to find him an agent that would stick and that it would override his suspension if they found someone willing to volunteer. After all, wasn’t it punishment enough to work for the Mad Doctor?

His commanding officer told him his suspension would start once he quit Robotnik.

Agent Stone was certain that wouldn’t happen. He hadn't heard great things about Robotnik, but between him and interacting with civilians? Of course he chose the Mad Doctor.

…………………………………………………………………………………..............................

Dr. Robotnik is going to get rid of Agent Stone.

Right after he’s done experimenting with him.

As a rule, Robotnik does not trust agents.

There was a reason Agency scientists were given special agents as assistance, rather than researchers, and it’s so that the Agency bigwigs could keep tabs on them.

Robotnik had found that out in his 20s when he got his first agent. He’d been so excited. Finally he had some legitimacy and some staff to order around.

That excitement lasted all of two weeks, until he had a project review with some of the higher up majors and they asked him about the satellite upgrades he was working on.

The satellite upgrade that he tooled around on in his free time while he was waiting for product orders to come in or data analysis to process for the missile he was designing for them, that they were supposed to be talking about.

The satellite upgrade that wasn’t for them.

It didn’t take him long to connect the dots and figure out who was at fault.

Robotnik used that first Agent as target practice. He forced him to stand against a wall while he set an experimental gun to cut silhouettes around him in bullets. He justified it as “testing the gun’s ability to see”

The agent quit and never returned.

He’d made a game of it after that, “how long does it take to get rid of the newest Agent(s)” (sometimes they came in pairs or in triplicate). It got easier each year as his established reputation spread. It meant that the new Agents assigned to him had pre-existing expectations and anticipation that made them more jumpy.

His record was 37 seconds, The Agent walked in on his first shift, saw him covered in blood and motor-oil, and decided he wasn’t worth the trouble.

A perfect agent in Robotnik’s opinion.

And Robotnik definitely has plans to get rid of Agent Stone, but he’s never had a spook before.

Robotnik made a habit of researching his agents once they got to him, finding some piece of incriminating or humiliating blackmail to send out if they ever touched his files.

But on Agent Stone there was nothing. Not even a first name, not even a birthday. Which meant they gave Robotnik one of the fancy ones.

He should be suppressing rebellions, or killing entire terrorist cells, or digging up blackmail on ambassadors, not stuck keeping tabs on a scientist.

Robotnik had no idea he was considered enough of a threat to merit somebody like Agent Stone. He was flattered. To be clear, he absolutely should be, but the recognition required anybody in higher command to have enough working electricity in their brain to static-charge a sock and he wasn’t sure any of them did.

And now he was having fun finding the difference between a standard agent and Agent Stone.

So far he’d discovered:

Agent Stone was immune to about six types of poisons, and did not mind being volunteered as a poison tester. Robotnik had poisoned his own food just to see which ones he could get by. With antidotes on hand of course, but he just wanted to know.

He was not bothered about being shot at, but he had asked Robotnik to warn him when he was going to do so, so he could put on hearing protection.

Videos of bloody murder and mayhem would not disturb him, in fact he’d take detailed notes on them to note how the murder could be done more efficiently. This is when he decided he was pretty sure this was an assassin brand spook rather than an intel gathering one. Or possibly both.

He did not have to ask the man twice to hide a body.

Robotnik hadn’t seen any of his data stolen yet or his projects looked into, and he hadn’t seen Commander Walter or any of the Higher Generals react to the fake threats he put in the files, so either Agent Stone was smart enough not to bother, or was playing the long game.

He seemed designed to be hard to get rid of??? He wasn’t sure if agents at that level were required to be pretty or if they had to alter his face to be that way, but either way Robotnik had a compulsion to hang him on the wall to brighten up the lab.

In the same vein, the agent had an obsequious, sort of patient manner that was enjoyable. He’d never had an Agent listen to him talk for so long without rolling their eyes or looking like they wanted to escape. This one was good at hiding his true emotions, even faking attentiveness? Impressive.

He’d yet to find an order he’d say no to, or any sort of pain or psychological torture he’d react strongly to. But by God he was going to keep testing.

It never failed to delight him. It was a win-win with Agent Stone. Each test would either get rid of him or give Robotnik more data on him.

And at this point Robotnik was less inclined to chase him off than he was to keep him in a jar and study him under a microscope.

But despite that inclination. He was going to get rid of him.

Eventually.

He just had to study him a little further.

……………………………………………………………………………………........................

Stone is thawing.

Bit by bit.

He hates to admit that maybe he did need a vacation.

He’s not…happy but he is content. He is ok. It’s different than the clenching fist of nerves he’s been for the past couple of years that lead him spiraling into numbness trying to keep it choked down.

Being in an established base that he can get used to is nice. Having a routine is nice.

And yes, the Doctor is experimenting on him, but none of the experiments are lethal, they always have a backup plan to allow him to survive. So he’s not worried.

He feels a little like he’s growing roots. After years of constant motion he can finally just learn the patterns of the area and not move.

He’s taken notes on the facility and mapped it out. It’s similar to reviewing or casing an area, he just gets to stay there now. He knows where the mess hall and the coffee stations are (all of them disgustingly ill supplied) and he knows a few central figures well informed of the normal operations.

He finds himself doing as he always does and morphing his personality to suit his surroundings, he puts on the disguise of someone affable, and plain, and it helps him move through the area easily.

And there is an indulgence, in just being able to quietly prepare his coffee in the morning and know where everything is.

He smiles more, sometimes it's even real. It’s an old face, close to the one he wore as a dutiful grandson.

And his tolerance for the Mad Doctor is increasing.

He’s learned his habits a little bit more. He knows when to be out of the lab and let him work, and which tasks he won’t check for days on end.

He can tell when the doctor is getting restless, and is ready to experiment on him, or rage at him.

It’s like predicting a storm, and he knows how to brace.

He feels like the other agents must’ve been exaggerating a tad.

And sometimes the tolerance even bridges on something of…fondness?

His abrasive personality keeps people away. Agent Stone is fond of that first and foremost.

And there was the… enthusiasm the doctor constantly sported? While Agent Stone had trouble reaching his emotions, Robotnik seemed overflowing with them all the time.

Robotnik has a habit of grabbing him by his face, or his tie or his belt-loops to show him something he’s excited about. It made something in Stone’s chest squeeze pleasantly. It was… cute. Like a child tugging on his sleeve, he wanted to watch that part of him grow.

He praises him consistently just to see the behavior increase. It feels like gardening, watching something bloom. ( What’s he waiting to bloom, happiness? The multitude of creations that come from Robotnik’s hands? Stone doesn’t know)

It is slow and patient work, and he’s pleased as the tugging increases and the suspicion decreases.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------

Bloom One:

Robotnik starts including him in the creation process

At first, it's just it’s just asking him to hand him tools. Which Stone doesn't know and has to pick up on.

Then he asks Stone to fix things he knows Stone knows nothing about, just to watch him fail.

Stone was having fun learning how the mechanics worked in his off-hours, just so that he could see the Doctor’s surprise the few times he didn’t fail.

It was fun to learn something new after peaking in his combat experience. And it was fun surprising him.

……………………………………………………………………………………......................

Bloom Two:

When Robotnik didn't want Stone in the lab, he'd send him on random errands.

The most frequent was coffee runs. The man inhaled it more than food, and seemed to enjoy the sensation of over-caffeination, referring to it as switching into "high gear"

There was a random day in Stone's fifth week there when Stone handed him his 3rd cup of coffee and he got to witness Robotnik make actual robot noises with his mouth as he picked up the cup and chugged it down.

It was so cute that Agent Stone's heart stopped, and he became temporarily incapable of moving from his spot.

“What are you standing there ogling at Agent?”

Stone wanted to squeeze his face so hard. He wanted to pinch his cheeks and shuffle his hair.

He took those desires and shoved them in a little box inside of himself labeled “Urges not to unpack or indulge in”

Good god he’d seen and done horrors unimaginable before, why was this what was getting to him? Why is this the thing that makes him need to hold onto control with his teeth?

“Nothing Doctor, how was the coffee?”

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Bloom Three:

Robotnik starts bringing him around outside the lab. He’s pulling him to every meeting like a comforting token.

He says its for his own protection. And he wants a second opinion on the energy of the room.

Stone thinks it's actually because Robotnik likes the boost in praise. The meetings are vicious. There is a lot of verbal shoving for power and needling at details of his designs, and while he pushes back just as hard, Stone can’t imagine it’s easy to swallow. He can provide a little extra praise afterward. He can be a presence that exists in the room that’s on Robotnik’s side, that’s easy.

Keeping a straight face is harder.

Amongst the items in his internal “Do not touch, Do not indulge in” box he now had to shove: “Snapping at every person who insulted Robotnik” and “lock him in his lab to keep him safe.”

The first was a constant struggle to keep tamped down. He was very thankful for every year he spent as a sniper. It required him to stay still and quiet in the same spot for hours, sometimes days on end, and those skills were very useful now.

However, the second was fed by Robotnik's insistence on bringing him everywhere. He couldn't keep Robotnik in one place, but the more he was consistently kept by his side the more he could minimize threats to his being.

There were quite a lot of them actually. A lot of people had been killed by his technology and he had a lot of enemies as a result.

In the few months Stone had been here he’d foiled two assassination attempts and one aborted kidnapping.

It kept him on his toes.

However, because Robotnik was unknowingly indulging that part of Stone, Stone now had to deal with the evolution of that urge which was, "follow Robotnik home to make sure he was safe."

Stone had been resisting pretty well so far, but it was a near thing.

...........................................................................................................................

Bloom four:

Robotnik does not always dress professionally. On days where he has meetings or knows he's going to be seen he does. But on days where he's just going to be working in the lab on a prototype he doesn't have to dress up nice.

And he doesn't.

Stone walks in on him in a tank top, black slacks that had seen better days, and work boots, as he was slid under a personal-jet prototype, with some of his playlists blasting on the loudspeakers.

He slid out underneath to greet Stone and take whatever coffee and food was offered, and Stone was forced to noticed the exposed arms and the light sheen of sweat on them and he had to go into overdrive to repress urges such as:

"lick/bite arms or neck." "Dig fingers into exposed waist" "Push him against ground" "See how easy tank top is to tear." and on and on. A litany of things going into the box.

And oh he was still talking to Stone and Stone had no idea what he was saying.

"Hm?"

"Earth to Sycophant! Can you hand me the quarter wrench?!"

"Right away, Sir" He said, grabbing for the wrench.

"I did not get five PHDs to be called Sir!" Robotnik shouted behind him.

"Sorry, Doctor!"

"I swear I don't know what's gotten into you today." Robotnik grumbled as he slid back under the jet.

..........................................................................................................................

Bloom 5:

Unexpectedly, Robotnik started feeding one of Agent Stone's hidden needs. Stone is certain that Robotnik had no idea what he was doing and that he didn't know the secret things Stone kept in the dark. Things just got busy.

The shifts with Robotnik were always long. A 50-hour work week was pretty normal for him and any agent working for him. But lately they'd been getting a little ridiculous, the daily work shifting from 10 hours to 11 to 12 to "let's just have dinner in the lab, can you order something?" to "there's a cot in the back if you need to collapse, we can use it in shifts while we wait for this read-out."

At first it was to meet a deadline but then they just got used to the pace. It was always so easy to say yes to. He didn't even need an excuse for it. This was job, these were his orders, he was a professional. It was just convenient that it also happened to feed his need to be around Robotnik all the time.

It felt like losing a limb every time he left.

…………………………………………………………………………………….....................….

And then

And then it is over, and his six months are up.

His commanding officer calls him to tell him his probationary period is up and that he has a new assignment.

He doesn’t want to go.

He want to tell them to fuck off. He’s fine where he is.

But he has his orders and the desire goes in the box with the rest of them.

……………………………………………………………………………………........................

Robotnik is embarrassed to admit that he might have actually started trusting Agent Stone for a few seconds there.

He'd bugged Stone's computer and phone, and put trackers on his shoes and found that Stone was reporting back to Commander Walters about him. He was giving him brief, professional summaries about Robotnik's work, the kind of information that could have been found in anyone's well-taken meeting notes.

He was not complaining about Robotnik's behavior, and he even lied several times to cover up any extra projects Robotnik had showed him, and the late hours they'd been working.

It felt too good to be true. It had to be a cover-up for who he was actually reporting to, to what he was actually saying about him.

But he checked the trackers he put on him and he was going nowhere else. The time codes on his recordings showed no gap in time for extra to be said. He checked. Several times.

(He also found that Agent Stone could be incredibly passive aggressive in his emails despite his amazing word economy, and he saved a few copies of to keep as evidence)

So slowly he let himself trust Agent Stone and believe that the always smiling face and lack of irritation might be real.

So slowly, slowly he let himself believe that somebody in his life might actually stay around.

Stupid.

Six months in, just enough time for him to get attached, to think he might be safe, Agent Stone informed him he was leaving.

“For how long?”

“Indefinitely.”

Robotnik slowly turned around, looking away from the prototype he’d been working on.

“Explain.”

“I am primarily a special operations agent, and they’re putting me back on assignment, this was only supposed to be a temporary break until I got myself together. I already have more orders for my next mission”

“I was a break?”

So much for considering himself a threat. That’s on him for thinking anyone in the higher echelons had brain cells. They were sending spooks to him to relax. Wasn’t that funny?

“Yes, Doctor.

“And you knew that it was temporary this entire time and you said nothing.”

Stone looked taken aback.

“I never considered it was information that would interest you. You will be given other agents. I am inherently replaceable.”

“I should’ve still known as your employer.”

“I’m sorry Doctor, I'll do what I can to amend the mistake. I can negotiate to stay a little longer to find a replacement for myself and give them instructions for the work, if that would make the transition more comfortable.”

And wouldn’t be fun, having Stone talk with other agents about his weird habits? Couldn’t you just die?

“Do what you need to just don’t do it in front of me. Get out of my lab. Your permissions for coming in here are officially revoked."

………………………………………………………………………………………....................

Stone picked three agents of varying competencies that seemed capable of carrying out the list of tasks he did for Robotnik.

He typed out an instruction set for each and sent them on their way.

The 3 agents looked at the individual 30-page packets they were each given and wondered what they had gotten themselves into.

……………………………………………………………………………………........................

Agent Stone methodically follows every order he’s given. Just as he had before. He can feel his old mentality creep into his body as he leaves. It feels like ice water flowing into his veins, stealing all the sensation

He is a soldier. He is a machine. He does what he is told.

Everything sort of feels like cotton and static. But that’s manageable. He had enough feelings in the last couple of months. It should keep him going for a while at least. And he knows exactly how much he can mess up before he gets suspended again.

(Would they send him back to Robotnik again if he did or was that resource used up? Does that make it tempting to try? Slam his own left hand in a car door and see if he can complete the mission without it? Would they send him back?)

He completed his assignment in record time. No deviations, no intentional self-sabotage, no excitement. He was tired. He just wanted to sleep for an eternity. He felt like an imitation of a human being.

"Are you doing, ok?" Asked the agent in his passenger seat. "You've looked a little off since you got back from working with the Mad Doctor. Did he really take it out on you?"

He bit back the reflex to defend him. It would just bring up more questions he didn't want to answer.

"Too terrible to talk about."

"Yeech, that means something coming from you."

Melissa was keeping the conversation going as they drove back to base, doing her best to keep them both awake and provide directions. He'd already had a dynamic established with her in training. He used to flirt with her, just to see if the overzealous oaf who had a crush on her would ever try to kill him. (She never did, the coward.)

Stone is pretty sure the higher ups assigned him someone familiar as a consolation prize for how terrible he looked coming back. He was greatful. The pre-established rhythm of conversation allowed him to more easily pretend to be normal while feeling like half of a man.

The topics were light: Gossip, old memories, the things he missed while on his probation. He was using it to pull him back to his old self.

Their conversation was interrupted by the beeps of their radio going off.

She picked it up,

"Shadow unit 3, calling in, what's your message?"

"This is dispatch, We're sorry to do this to you, but we're going to have temporarily stall your return to base and redirect you to a secondary target. We got eyes on another sect of the Plokan radicals. They captured one of our lead weapon developers and we're going to need you to eliminate them and retrieve him."

Dread.

Melissa looked irritated, "C'mon Jer- you don't have anybody with more sleep in them?"

"Which weapons developer?" Stone interrupted.

"Robotnik" said the man on dispatch, "We're pretty sure it's a trap for Agent Stone. They still have a grudge against you after you- scooped their leader's left eye out."

Stone was no longer having an issue with ice-water veins. The twin emotions of rage and panic were fighting for dominance.

What did they mean, the worst of his sins could result in Robotnik’s death?

"You did what?" She mouthed.

He shook his head to say not now.

“We’re pretty sure we have a leak and we're sending out units to investigate it. But we think they got information on Agent Stone's current reassignment a little late and were aiming for him. One of the Agents assigned to Robotnik is in critical condition, they sniped him.”

Agent Stone's knuckles went white as he clenched the steering wheel.

"Where were the other two?"

"He sent them on some bullshit errands, so they weren't in the area at the time. He thought he would be safe with his drones, but they had an emp prepared. We have both of them secured. Don't worry they're safe. Stay on the line for coordinates and rough estimation of targets in the area."

Stone's heart was pounding. He wasn't worried about them. He'd given them very specific instructions to case unsecured areas before Robotnik went into them. He was going to make the dead one the lucky one when he got back.

Melissa was plugging the coordinates into their GPS system, the radio now hung up after they had all the information.

"Soooo...You scooped his eye out?"

"Yes, it was why I was on probation. I also cut off the hand from one of his lieutenants and broke the knees of another."

"You what?"

"I am going to need you to brace yourself because I am about to go very fast, and break a lot of traffic laws, and I wouldn't want you to get hurt."

She put her back ram-rod straight against the back of the seat, squared her feet on the floor, and her hands against the dash.

"Ready."

Agent Stone’s foot pushed the gas straight to the floor and didn’t leave it the entire drive.

_____________________________________________________________

Stone killed efficiently and coldly.

Absolutely no one heard him as he came in. He sent them into darkness with no fear, hearing nothing before a bullet was buried in their brain or a knife slashed across their throat. It wasn’t his priority.

He moved from room to room searching for the Doctor, feeling his panic grow the longer he went without finding him.

Please don’t be dead, please don’t be dead, I will break.

……………………………………………………….....................……………………………….

Stone finally found him outside the warehouse, standing near the railing, looking for a way out.

Stone’s head was just noise at that point, a steam engine boiling over going “go go go go go go”

He found him just in time to see the one-eyed leader of their organization shove Robotnik into the water.

Stone left his knife in the man’s neck before diving in after him. Cold water on the outside instead of the inside.

He could feel the smile on his own face as he finally dragged Robotnik head above water and saw his angry face perfectly alive.

He dragged him up the rails, the effort feeling like nothing at all. It felt like euphoria to just stand next to him and know he was safe, know that all the dangers were eliminated and that he could begin to breathe easy again.

Melissa came running up to him staring at his face. She’d been busy catching anyone outside the hideout who tried to run away. His old mistakes would not be repeated.

“Are you ok? He was thrashing around an awful lot, I think he got you.”

She gestured to his nose.

Stone let awareness of his body creep back in, and realized his nose was bleeding. He hastily wiped it away.

Then he felt a weight behind him as Robotnik, still coughing water out of his lungs hunched over and dug his face into the back of Agent Stone’s shoulder.

“Tell her to stop looking at me.” Robotnik said, his voice a rasp and laced with pain.

“They took my gloves.” He said in an even smaller voice, lamely, as if he was trying to explain his behavior, justify it.

And the panic mode that had just started to dissipate came back in full force.

No. he didn’t need to do that. He didn't need to do that. No.

He should shouting and taking up space, still angry at him, or full of sadism and enthusiasm and delight. He shouldn’t be-

Stone’s experiences Roaring, Dreadful, Intense, Uncontrollable feeling. A mountain of lava after already being cracked open and run ragged by the emotions of the day.

Who let him get like this? He left his doctor for a couple weeks- two, it’s been two- And he’s cold and wet and shivering and broken and how fucking dare they.

He thought he got half-way decent replacements but apparently not. He got three just to be sure and none of them could do their damn job. Incompetent. This shouldn’t even be a problem, his doctor should be fine.

Agent Stone was feeling emotions.

All of them.

Panic that the doctor was not acting like himself.

Rage that anybody made him feel this way, that it rang of old scars and he wanted to go through on a list every person involved and slaughter them all.

Despair and humiliation that it was all his fault that they were here because of his mistakes, his mess, his carelessness.

Absolute Elation that he was even alive at all to make him still panic like this.

It was too much, much too much. All the noise and hurt and pain that he hadn’t felt in years and he let the carefully designed systems of adrenaline he designed for life-and-death situations take over.

Shut it down. Unimportant. Act. Fix it.

“Melissa,” He can hear his own voice like it’s not part of his body, calm, clear, crisp and professional as always, “I’m going to get the Doctor to our transport, can you go through the hideout and see what weapons they acquired and start loading them up?”

“Got it” She glanced at the scientist stabilizing himself on his shoulder. “Good luck with him, and get something for your nose while you’re at it. Don’t let him bite your head off!”

Stone gave her a painful smile. He was counting the seconds for her to leave.

He shifts his weight, get’s Robotnik’s arm hanging over his shoulder, and braces his own on the other man’s back so he can lead him away.

(A memory, his Teta rubbing his back while he was sick)

Don’t think about it, unimportant.

Stone lets himself move like an automaton on autopilot as he drags Robotnik back to the car. The manta of “is he safe is he safe is he safe” pressing in on his brain.

It settles slowly as he dries off his hair and wraps the trauma-blanket around him, and hands him pain medication. And it starts to dissipate when Ivo snaps

“Would you stop? I can do this part myself” with a growl, when Stone nearly buckles his seatbelt for him

Good. He’s better. Stone would like to breathe normally now if the doctor was done scaring him half to-death.

“And get me back to my lab, I’ve got spare clothes there and I am sick to death of being wet. How long is the other agent going to take?

“She’s going to assess the capacity of what’s there so they can send out the vehicles to load it up. She’ll get transport. We can go soon.”

Agent Stone turned to leave.

“Where do you think you're going?” Robotnik snarled. And lunged through the window to grab his shoulder.

Agent Stone looked confused. “To go retrieve your gloves. You said they took them.”

“They threw them in the ocean. I have spares back at the lab. Would you stop leaving for five seconds?”

There was absolute bloody murder and rage in Robotnik’s eyes, and then it was gone, and the Doctor was letting him go and recoiling from his own emotion.

"I mean if you want to throw yourself uselessly to the bottom of the ocean without any proper diving equipment, don't let me stop you. It's not like you can get anymore wet."

Stone had the desire to open the car door, squeeze him to and to his chest and hush him, telling him he wasn’t going anywhere.

He opens the box to shove it inside.

Closes it. Where had that gotten him? Like this? Did he think he was leaving?

And opens the car door, stands on the door frame, and gets three inches from Robotnik's face. meeting him with his own version of the intensity Robotnik had let fade from his face, cold where the Doctor's was always boiling.

“Doctor, I am not going anywhere after. If I have to ruin one of my own missions to get suspended and systematically sabotage every single agent, they send to you until I get reassigned to you I will. Do you understand. I am not going anywhere."

Robotnik eyes lit "I thought you said you had your orders."

" I can adjust where they come from. I hate not working for you. It's boring out here."

They stayed staring at eachother for a long time, willing the other to look away.

“Point made. You can turn it down now, Sicko. Down.”

Stone stepped down and slid himself into the driver's seat.

"Let's get some dry clothes."

..........................................................................................................................

"You're absolutely incompetent at picking replacements, by the way. they were completely useless. I'm going to tear them a new one when I get back."

"Please let me do that for you, Doctor. It's no trouble for me and you've had a long day. Please."

Robotnik could now identify what anger looked like on his Agent. Interesting.

"Oh I want to see what you do to them."

…………………………………………………………………………………….....................….

In a time before Agent Stone erased his own name, his mother suggested an arranged marriage for him.

Just to settle you down. So, you don't make the same mistakes we did.

She'd talked to some of the families in the area. She brought head shots of the girls, each with a one-page description.

Please just meet them. You might like one of them. You can start building a life together early. Know you have some stability, someone to come home to. You need someone to talk to if you don't talk to us.

He'd smiled, done so, given her some passable reason why he didn't match for each and then left not long after.

Now:

Commander Walters, Stone's commanding officer, and an agent in charge of staffing slid over an envelope that contained a file on each of them and a ten-year contract for working with Dr. Robotnik.

Wasn't funny how time looped and flipped and how he once again had to hold in his emotions about two headshots, a description for each of them, and one place that, if he signed, would allow him to stay for a good, long time?

Stability. He wanted to laugh. That did sound nice.

"We're sorry about this. We know he took it out of you the first time, but he insisted and he makes half our advanced weaponry. Our hands are tied. I'm sad to lose you. You were a good soldier," said his commanding officer. (ex-commanding officer)

"I am pleased that he finally has an agent he'll stick with, but I'm sorry what the job is going to require of you," said Walters.

"We talked him down from 20. And if you don't want this, we can get you reassigned to somewhere away from him." Said the staffing agent, "It will include a temporary demotion since you're refusing an assignment. But technically since it's a contract directly from him and not a military assignment it doesn't count as going AWOL. You'll come back from that in no time"

Agent Stone tried to look properly resolved but remorseful, like he would've looked with his mother had he ever been honest with her.

"No. Don't do that. I've handled worse before, and if this is what is required of me, I'll do it. You've talked about needing someone to keep tabs on him for years. No sense leaving a problem when a solution is readily available."

He thumbed at the watch Robotnik had given him, It had a tracker in it. There were apparently others, and Stone had made a fun game of trying to find them all.

"Where do I sign?"

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