Mindless fluff, enjoy.

Every night I lay there, in her cold bed, only her imprint in the sheets for company. It's a quiet night, very little going on. If I looked at the window I'd probably be able to see the stars judging by how the lights reflecting off the other end of the room. But I do not turn my head; there is no desire for me to do so. Although she is not here, I'd rather my attention focused on her absence in the sheets than on the window.

Outside brings back memories. Bad memories. Until she found me I was alone out there. I am grateful for her finding me. When she found me I was merely but a broken shell of myself. She took me into her care, and over time has patched me up. I wouldn't be here now if it wasn't for what she did for me.

She's away now. Will be until the small hours of the morning. That's what bats do; they go out in the night. I don't mind, how could I? After all she's done for me; I have no right to ask her to stop, nor any real ability to. She does what she wants, and I'm powerless to stop her.

But even if I could, I wouldn't stop her. For she always comes back every morning. Her body clocks just a little out of line to the rest of us, its fine. I don't mind, I'm not exactly a heavy sleeper anyway. Asides, when she gets in, tired after a hard nights looting, she will find me in our bed, and she will give me a hug, and I will feel warmer inside for it.

I don't know what she does in the nights. She never says, and I don't question her on it. It's not my place to pry into her private life. It's kind of an unspoken agreement, she doesn't talk about what she does while she's not here, and I don't either. Some would find that a bit odd that she never says a word, but I've never found a reason for her to, and I don't think it matters myself.

I know she loves me. She tells me all the time and I can tell by the way she holds me that she does. I too love her for all she does for me. I dread to think where I'd be now if she didn't I'm still not at my best, I don't think I'll ever be, but she doesn't care. When she looks into my eyes, I see her child-like innocence. I don't think anyone else gets to see that in her eyes, and that makes me special to her.

And when she looks at me, I'll admit she makes me happy. I don't want to sound clichéd but to make her smile as I do; it's the reason I exist. She wasn't the first, but she's the one who's held onto my heart for the longest. Others claimed to love me more, but before I knew it they grew sick of me, and I was out on my rear.

I don't even want to think about my last owner. Nasty piece of work, very violent. She tore me to shreds when we fought. And boy we fought often me and her. She was a rabid dog when the mood struck her, and the mood struck her often. I was lucky to get out of that when I did. As I said earlier, I was in ruins when I left it, but I'm so glad to be out of that now.

Not that being with Rouge now is something of convenience for me. Yes she's given me a home, and she treats me better than most have and better than she treats several other people, but I'm with her because I want to be. Even if I had somewhere else to go, I wouldn't leave this bed right now, not for all the rings of Mobius.

There's just something about the way she holds me. So gentle, yet so comforting. I know she feels the same when she takes hold of me. I can feel her embrace on my body, pressing up against her own, and I know what she's thinking when she does it. She's so affectionate towards me, I really am lucky to have her.

I'll always be there for her, when she's feeling alone I'll be there, when she's upset I'll comfort her, when she's angry I'll be the one that will calm her down fastest. I'll admit even she has given me a couple of knocks over the years, but I don't care. Rouge has her issues, and if I have to take a couple of hits then I'll take them.

I just worry some days that it's because I look like someone she already knows. I know I shouldn't think like that, but I do. She told me about him in the past, said he was very impressive for his age. I always worry about this; what if she only stays with me for wanting to be with him? I can never fully shake that doubt, even though I have no evidence at all. But then, if she wanted him she could probably get him. She could have anyone she wanted, and yet I'm all she wants for.

I guess this is what they call love. She makes me happiest when she's around, and I think about her even now when she's not. More than anything, I think about her, as I've done again tonight. I can't wait to see her walk in, tired, and joining me in the bed. The way she'll look at me as she drifts to sleep is always worth this wait.

Watching her dream; her soft fur rubbing against my body. Little known fact about Rouge: she sucks her thumb as she sleeps. It's cute. Very endearing and just one of the many things that she does that only I get to see. For she won't share this with anyone else, just me. That's another aspect of love, not hiding anything.

They say it's impossible to fully define love. I doubt this somehow. I already have love, and I know I can define it. It's just not possible to do it in a short space. You see, love is extremely complex; full of ups and downs, twists and turns, and lots of hard work goes into loving someone. You don't just wake up one morning in a relationship that works, but one morning within it you'll wake up and realise that everything you want is lying right beside you.

I have that with Rouge. That is how I know I love her. The second she gets back I'm going to show her that I love her the same way that I always do, by keeping her close, and being myself for her. After all she loves me for me, there's no need for me to try and be anything else for her.

I know after everything that that seems a bit hypocritical, but all she wants from me is me. Thus I give it to her, for I love her. If I could give her all the rubies in the world I would, but despite what she says about gems, something tells me I'm her greatest treasure of all.

It must seem hard to think really, that one such as myself could be ensnared by someone like her. We're opposites, but it works. I try not to think about our differences too much. They're always in my mind, but I always overlook them. I'm always reassured by the look I get from her just when I begin to think it. It's almost as if she knows some days.

I hear her coming in now. It must be nearly sunrise. The door closes quietly, and after a few minutes I'm greeted by her weary presence. She mutters a few things about her job, not really expecting me to listen, and not awaiting a reply. I watch her out of the corner of my eye as the leather cat-suit hit's the floor. Without even thinking about it, she climbs into the bed, and notices me laying there, my eyes gazed upon her.

"It looks like I've got you at least," she says, as her arm wraps around me and pulls me closer to her. One of my tails gets loose from her grip as her body is pressed tightly against mine. She squeezes me, but I don't complain; it's not a painful squeeze. I see her smile as she looks at me, and that warm fuzzy feeling she gives me returns.

Nothing else is said, there's no need for either of us to talk. I watch her, her face very slightly illuminated by my small red light. Some days I wish I knew how to disable that. I still don't understand what it's there for, but I wish it wasn't. It's not a pleasant addition to my body, and the man who added it was crazy.

Nevertheless, she's never complained about it. She doesn't see it as a problem. She's asleep now, I can tell, her thumb is in her mouth, and she's smiling. For all her adult ways, and for all her proclaimed maturity, she's really just a child deep down. Not that anyone else knows any different, I never tell them.

Not that I can. My mouth, like the rest of my body is stitched up. It's a hard life being a doll sometimes, but when she holds me in the arms I'm probably the luckiest doll of Tails that was ever made.