Fan Fiction ❯ Stroke of Luck ❯ Part Two ( Chapter 2 )

Disclaimer: Don't own, don't sue.

PART TWO
CHAPTER THREE

*Here comes the cold again,

I feel it closing in.

It's falling down and all around me falling.

You say that you'll be there to catch me,

Or will you only try to trap me?*

the middle of the night, Fox's room, Cornerian Air Force Base

Anxiety plagued Fox as he twisted fitfully in his sheets, trying and trying and not able to find a comfortable position. He sat up, fluffing his pillow before plopping back down on it. With a sigh, he turned to his left, towards the bedside table, staring at the liquid crystal display of glowing red numbers. 1:37. He lingered on the table a little longer his eyes sweeping the darkness and coming to rest on a picture frame. The glass reflected the little light coming from the neon red display of his alarm clock, the cardboard backing barely showing through.

There should have been a picture.

Fox reached out, his fingertips lightly gracing the dark outline. Yes, there should have been a picture. Earlier that day, in a fit of trepidation, Fox had torn it out and shoved it in between two books. He hadn't wanted to destroy it, just hide it. Falco was still his friend, he deserved that much.

With another sigh, Fox rolled onto his back once again, staring up at the dark and endless ceiling. It was already Thursday, and his date was set for Friday. But it had not been Fay on his mind that day. While he utilized his meager and barely-used sense of fashion in struggling to come up with suitable and proper attire for his date, his mind strayed back to Falco.

He had been afraid.

He remembered the fierce emotion he had felt that morning after watching Falco and Katt's uncommonly public display. It was obvious that both of them felt something in a deeper-than-friends kind of way. He had been afraid that it was anger, and he had also been afraid of something else.

He had been afraid of why he would be angry.

Although neither Falco nor Katt had said anything publically about their relationship, Fox had been almost sure that there had been some kind of sexual element to it. Both were protective of the other, and just as fiercely loyal. Falco was not a gregarious creature by nature, but often out of necessity. He would talk when he had to and then disappear into the background. He socialized with the rest of Star Fox, of course, and sometimes even joked with them.

But with Katt.......

It was in the air around him when he was with her. There was a kind of comfortableness about him. He was less edgy, in a more relaxed stance, unlike his usual standoffish and defensive pose of his arms crossing his chest. Even when he was around his comrades in Star Fox, he was rarely that relaxed. Except when he was with....

Fox sighed, rolling over on his right side, facing away from the table, away from the picture frame. He had an early meeting in the morning, and he knew that if he didn't get at least five hours of sleep, he was he would be about as good as case of the clap at the board meeting.

He lapsed into a fitful dream.

CHAPTER FOUR

*These are the rules I make.

Our chains were meant to break.

You'll never change me.

Here comes the cold again, I feel it closing in.

You're falling down and all around me falling.*

Wednesday afternoon, Cornerian Air Force Base

Falco dug around blindly in the tool box for a moment before he found the correct wrench that he needed. He wiped off a greasy wing on his old threadbare tank top and then wheeled himself across the concrete and under his arwing once more. Normally, one of the mechanics would take care of it, but Falco preferred to do the work himself. It wasn't so much a matter of pride, he could've cared less about the media attention, and frankly didn't want any. It was more a sense of connection with the ship, though it may have been only made out of steel and some wiring. In battle, a pilot had to rely on his ship more so than his own skills, and that created a bond, silly as it may have sounded.

Moreover, the Cornerian Air Force employed millions of people, and a quick background check wasn't always so reliable. Several supporters of Andross had survived the war, and some were still causing trouble. There had been an incident just weeks after the war which had almost left Fox dead.

He had been up since the early dawn conducting personal appearances and press conferences (a serious bitch goddess they all had had to deal with), and was consequently fatigued and groggy, and failed to notice the wiring under his arwing, and had almost been killed when the bomb exploded. Falco's wing faltered with the wrench as he remembered what had happened that day, the way Fox looked, suddenly so young and small and fragile as he lay broken and bleeding on the concrete.

The rest of Star Fox had been with him, Falco wasting no time in scooping up the dazed and nearly comatose Fox in his strong arms and high-tailing it to the nearest hospital. A blood transfusion had been required, and Bill had turned out to be the perfect match. After a three-hour surgery and a few scary days after, Fox was alive and well, though he would forever have a slight limp to his walk, which would probably get worse as time wore on.

Fox was the youngest of Star Fox (even younger than Slippy, by only a few weeks) and consequently., the rest of the team felt a protective urge to take care of him. Going into the war, Fox had been reckless and brash, sometimes bordering on arrogance. His hatred of Andross and his empire of fools had fueled him, and he would've gone to any lengths to see them obliterated, even at the cost of his own life. He had his father's name to live up to, after all, and tried his best, though sometimes he may have fallen short. His injury had revealed that from then on his flying time would have to be limited, and he hadn't been the same since. He was still vivacious and semi-reckless, but had also matured quite a bit. Still, there seemed to be an air of melancholia about him, a dullness in his eyes that was hard to miss. He had changed, and Falco had a hard time figuring out if it was for the better or for the worse.

He brought a wing up to wipe the sweat beading on his forehead, wishing that the air conditioning had been fixed. It was the middle of a particularly long dry spell, and summers on Corneria were hell anyway, especially unpopular with species that had thick fur. Or feathers.

With a grunt, Falco rolled himself out from under the spacecraft, setting his wrench down on the floor. His white tank top was drenched with sweat, and was sticking to him in the most uncomfortable and irritating way. He quickly slipped it off over his head, using a dry spot to mop up his face. He was balling it up to stow it away when he heard the hangar door open with a squeal of unoiled hinges that resounded in the massive room and the scratch of footfalls skittering across the cement.

Katt Monroe came running up, clad in only a skimpy tank top, daisy dukes, and a pair of flip-flops. A charming blush rose up in her cheeks as her eyes crawled over Falco's sweaty lean form, and she held out one white paw, offering a bottle of cool water to him.

"Thanks," he murmured, gratefully taking the bottle and downing it in one continuous gulp.

Katt smiled, tucking a strand of errant hair behind her ear and taking a seat next to him, pulling her knees up to her chest. "Thought you might need a drink. You've been at it for a while now." She waiting for Falco to finish, idly twirling a lock of pink hair around one finger.

Falco yawned, stretching his muscular arms over his head. Katt smiled up at his again, one paw playfully flicking at the feathers that hung down in his face. "Why do you hide behind your feathers? You've got a handsome face, why don't you show it off?" He smiled back at her, shyly almost.

"You hide behind your hair, too," he stated, lightly tugging at the pink and white tresses that hung in the feline's eyes. "But your face is much too cute to hide."

Katt blinked, staring up at Falco, who had turned away to stare at some spot on the pavement as if it held the answers to all of life's little problems. She smiled; if it had been anyone but Falco, she could've sworn her was flirting with her!

Fox stumbled through the day in a sleepy haze, replying to everything said to him with monosyllables or caveman-like grunts. His normally expressive blue eyes were red-rimed and bloodshot, his hair in disarray. Nope, he never got that good night's sleep.

After struggling to stay away in meeting after boring meeting, he decided that during his lunch break he could sneak into the hangar on the pretenses of sliding under his arwing for a good nap. He'd avoided everyone he knew and didn't know so far, and as long as he didn't run into the evil and ever-plotting Bill Grey, he'd be Scott Free.

The door to that hangar had been left slightly ajar, Fox noticed. As he walked closer, he could hear voices, one male and one female.

"Why do you hide behind your feathers? You've got a handsome face, why don't you show it off?"

A pause, and then: "You hide behind your hair, too. But your face is much to cute to hide."

Fox tensed, his paw on the door stopping in mid-push. He wanted a nap, and needed one, bad, but he didn't want to stumble in on a couple's "leisure" time together. He had done that once before, and would never think of his superior, General Pepper the same way ever again. The male said something he didn't quite catch, which was followed by a few feminine giggles. After listening for a few more minutes, he realized just who is was he was eavesdropping on.

What the fu-- that's Falco's voice! And Katt's!

Then, it hit him. He's asking her out. Fox stepped back, his mind racing. He should have been happy for him. He wanted to be happy for him. Fox sucked in a breath, the room spinning. It was Falco. It was Falco in there with Katt and she was laughing and he was smiling and he was asking her out, and bloody hell why couldn't he just be happy for him?

With nothing else coming to mind, Fox fled.

late evening, Fox's room, Cornerian Air Force Base

Fox lay on his stomach, clutching a pillow to his chest as he mindlessly clicked through the satellite channels, trying to get his mind off the exchange he had bared witness to earlier that day. It proved to be a fruitless endeavor, however, as the words replayed themselves in his mind over and over again. Katt's sunny giggle. Falco's shy smile. The air around them, the electricity between them, the comfortableness and the closeness....

Fox squeezed his eyes shut. Why? Why did it hurt? Why couldn't he just be happy for Falco? The thought of Falco and Katt together, happy......

Fox rolled over on his back, clicking off the TV and hugging the pillow tighter to his chest. He couldn't think. He didn't want to. It hurt too much. But I don't.......

Fox chose not to finish that thought. He put the pillow back behind his head and pulled the blankets up over his chest, turning to the bedside table to turn out the light. His paw rested on the lamp switch, his eyes locked onto the empty picture frame, frozen for a moment.

He clicked the light off.

Tomorrow was a big day. He needed the rest.