Stars were the first thing Fox McCloud remembered seeing. In space, distances were so vast that stars seemed to remain stationary even when he was traveling at incredibly high speeds. But these stars were moving. Cartwheeling, free falling, and spinning. A dizzying, dazzling display of the cosmic bodies that guided so many to opportunity, to fortune, and to death and failure. These selfsame celestial bodies had guided him to a fate far worse than any of those.

Somehow, he didn't find the energy to care that the laws of physics were being broken right outside the window. He perceived that he was in a ship of some kind, but it was small, cramped, noisy. He could hear the rattle of the ship's infrastructure near his left ear, pressed into the cold metal floor as it was. Beneath that was the deep, almost reassuring rumble of the ship's engines. He didn't remember where he was in relation to Lylat, how he had gotten inside this ship, or why things seemed so distant and listless. He supposed those things didn't matter anymore. Not after what had happened. It seemed so long ago, he could have sworn those things happened to a different Fox, another's life, another's worries. He found himself wishing that this was all some terrible, cliched dream, one that he would wake up from once this ship reached its destination.

Obviously, that would be the ground. Or perhaps the fiery well of Solar. Either one, really, he believed he would die no matter which one he ran into first.

At the edge of his senses he realized that it was not the stars moving, but the ship. It was rolling about, tumbling, apparently trying to realign itself for whatever entry it was programmed for. She had programmed it, he remembered. To save him. To get rid of him. Maybe it was some kind of revenge for what he'd done to her.

Fox felt his chest tighten at the memory.

He had been a fool to think he could actually make things right again. It had been a fool's errand with a fool's hope, and a fool's ending. Now he was alone all over again, with a very bleak future ahead.

Why, he wondered, had it come to this? He remembered the how, the reasons, the circumstances, but where was the justification? Where was the rationale? Why him, and why her? What kind of universe was this that demanded so much of one m an? Was there an actual purpose behind it all? There had to be. He wanted to believe that. Or he'd go insane trying to reason it all out.

I don't even remember the last time I smiled.

The rumbling increased, and the ship began shaking. Suddenly the stars leveled out, and it was starting to get brighter inside the ship. He was entering the atmosphere now, or at least he figured as much. Whatever came after impact was of no consequence to him. He didn't feel much, except the ache in his heart, and the all too empty space between his arms.

"We picked up the signal about three hours ago."

"Has it changed at all?"

"No, sir."

"Damn, that means he's either dead or unconscious… we need to pick up the pace!"

"Yes, sir!"

Falco Lombardi was not a patient man. He had always been known as the jockey, the spitfire of Star Fox. He could still remember the "old days," a bare fifteen years ago, when Star Fox had first formed. The incredible, heroic deep strike behind enemy lines when Andross had made his bid for power. He remembered Peppy giving him a hard time over not working as much as the others or Slippy always covering for him when it came time for boring maintenance. He was only a touch over thirty, and he felt like a doddering clone of old Hare. Somehow, things had changed since then, with the onset of getting older and the responsibilities a hero like him had. Oh, there were still the reminders of the glory days, with news interviews, screaming teenage girls, and autograph and book signings. Of course, Slippy was the one who wrote all the books these days.

But the one thing that held them all together had started to collapse.

He watched forest scenery go by with a scowl as he tightened his grip on the ATV's door frame. Branches and bushes were crushed mercilessly under the vehicle's wheels, and suddenly he wished he was the one doing the driving. The ATV, known as a Sidewinder, pitched and jumped and bounced over the uneven terrain, but kept its footing sure. It was a good, reliable vehicle, even if it could only hold six people and wasn't very well armed. But they weren't looking for a fight. They were looking for Fox.

Fox McCloud was always the head honcho, he realized that. Fox was the strong, silent leader, the young mercenary who had had to grow up too fast. Falco's life had been hard, but he always took it head-on, with a smirk on his face and blasters in his hands. His dad had been a worthless drunk and his mother had barely been around, despite all her love for him. But they had gone away a long time ago. Fox on the other wing had a much more saccharine and soppy story, what with all the treachery and murder and all that. Falco supposed the experience had toughened Fox up in ways he would never understand, given him a mysterious charisma unique to him. The interviews all featured Falco, but questions always led back to how good old Fox was holding up, what a wonderfully strong spirit the guy must have. The teenage girls screamed Falco's name, but they always sighed when they said Fox's.

Falco sometimes felt like Slippy was the only guy who nobody really cared about, and he was too much of a goody-two-shoes to care that nobody cared about him. Falco didn't hold a grudge, though. He was past that. He had never figured himself to be a mature guy, but there were depths to him that even he didn't know.

Fox wasn't just a leader. He was a friend. His only real friend, anymore at least. Peppy was using his still strong voice to yell at subordinates at Cornerian Central Command, Slippy was off being married (the very idea was slightly repulsive to him), and Katt… well, Katt was off doing whatever she did whenever they weren't getting together for another couple months. Their on-again off-again relationship was great stuff for the editorials and system net blogs, but Falco knew there wasn't any spark with her. Bill was alright to hang out with every once in a while and go clubbing when he had shore leave, but that was it.

Fox was dependable, and if Falco knew anything in life, it was to pay back the ones who were dependable. Besides, he didn't really have a choice. Fox was the soul of Star Fox, the one who had started it (under Peppy and Pepper's guidance, but still), who had molded it into what it was today. And today it was a shamble, a wreck, a shadow of its former self. It had all started, and ended, with Krystal.

Falco used another bump in the road to hide a growl in the back of his throat. Krystal was responsible for bringing Fox the greatest happiness and drive he had ever known, and for dragging him to the miserable depths he was in now. She was one of the reasons Falco never tried to get into a stable relationship. He couldn't really blame Fox, she was a real head-turner after all, but she had just expected too much of the guy. It was all her fault for practically jumping into his lap after Sauria, asking to join a team she had no experience in, asking for Fox's attention and warmth and all kinds of other sappy stuff, and then stabbing the guy in the back when he tried to tell her he was worried about her. Twice now she had run off and left them all behind, and Fox had still followed after her like a kicked puppy holding out for a pet on the head every now and then.

On top of all that, she was an alien. Falco had never really forgotten that, which just made their relationship even weirder when it had started. He had left after their first break- up mostly because he couldn't stand to see Fox all broken up and unable to even fly like he used to. But her joining Star Wolf after the Aparoid war had been the last straw. Falco was officially just angry with the woman, wherever she was now. All of Fox's love and endearing confusion, all his devotion and scatter-brained loyalty to a vixen who probably had never actually loved him had brought them here, to a remote forest on Sauria far from civilization. Krystal was gone, and he hoped it was for good. But Fox needed his help now.

"We're coming up on the target area, sir."

Falco grunted at the private in the driver's seat next to him. He had never really gotten over being called sir ever since he had been made a colonel in the Lylat Systems Corps. As the first official defense force for all of Lylat, it had been about time they created it; it figured Peppy was the first guy smart enough to start up the whole thing. All those different army units for every single planet were getting confusing. As a colonel, a nominal one at least, he wielded a lot of technical authority. But he and almost everyone else knew it was for show, another little reward for all the times Star Fox had saved Lylat's collective rear end. Falco didn't know the first thing about commanding an army, but it was a nice little ego boost to see everyone salute when he walked by, and the official steady paycheque was awesome.

"It should be this clearing up ahead."

Falco let out a low whistle as they came upon the signs of Fox's passage. A huge furrow had been driven into the ground in front of them with blackened, blasted trees all around. The path of charred dirt and smoking foliage led up to the wreckage of Fox's ship. It wasn't an Arwing, Falco noticed. The idiot Fox had probably lost it or got it blasted by Wolf. O'Donnel had always been a pushover for all his bluster, but in Fox's state, Falco wouldn't be surprised if he had gained the upper hand at last. Then again, he didn't even know if Wolf would even fight Fox anymore. Nobody had heard from him for a long time, not even the black market contacts Peppy had established. Things had changed drastically in the year since the Anglar invasion. Peace finally seemed ready to reign, talk of colonization efforts into new systems was going around, Venom's ecosystem was at last taking a turn for the better, and Star Fox was being paid just for showing up. Falco snorted. Terrible as war was, peace was just boring. It would all be book signings and ribbon cutting from here on in, for the rest of his life.

The twisted heap of metal Fox had smashed into Sauria on was a cheap, old shuttle, the kind bankrupt mining companies or desperate couriers used. Was that how desperate Fox had gotten, how much he had lost that he was willing to fly such a junk pile? The Sidewinder rolled to a stop next to the sad little ship, which looked like it would never fly again. Even though it had been a beat up, useless piece of trash even before it crashed, Falco felt a twinge of regret for the little shuttle. He always liked things that could fly. His worst nightmare was being grounded.

He and the other soldiers piled out and began the short, tense search for Fox. Or maybe his corpse. By the look of things, it had been an incredibly rough landing. What circumstances had led to an indignant end like this, Falco wondered? Fox hadn't even told anyone that he would be gone. He could still remember the first tense few days of searching for him after he had gone in pursuit of the woman Fox thought he loved. The long months of waiting. Thirteen months, to be precise, of fretting, worrying, wondering, and eventually, hope fading. Some people had begun to even think that he really was never coming back. To everyone's surprise, he was still very much alive, sitting still against a charred but still standing fern. His knees were up against his chest and his arms were wrapped tightly around them, his chin resting on top. Falco hurried over and knelt next to him while the medic with them dropped down and started running scans.

"Well, he's alive at least. A wonder he pulled himself out of that wreck. Nothing but minor cuts and abrasions," the feline reported. "No signs of major trauma. Mister McCloud, sir, could you please let me have a look at your chest?"

"Hold off man, give him some air!" Falco demanded, pushing away the demanding medic. He got up in Fox's face despite his earlier advice, and looked into his eyes.

"Fox," he said loudly. "You with me, buddy?"

What he saw made him shiver. Fox wasn't looking at anyone or anything. His eyes were empty and dull. He was staring right through him. Falco sighed and decided to get a little rough. He smacked Fox's cheek several times.

"Hey. Hey come on, Fox, you're tougher than this, huh? Snap out of it."

Fox didn't move. He did blink once, and his eyes flicked up to Falco's. He slowly uncurled himself and stood up, revealing a burn mark across the chest of his flight suit, but it hadn't penetrated very far. He moved back to the shuttle and stared.

"Fox?" Falco asked quietly. The other soldiers watched with trepidation.

Without a word, the canine touched the shuttle's hull.

"Shouldn't have left," he said brokenly. "I didn't bring back what I wanted to."

Falco bowed his head in understanding.

"You tried to find her again, Fox?"

Whatever else you do, Fox... don't come after me.

"I don't know."

He looked up to the sky, but this time there was no hope in his eyes. Whenever Falco saw him stare at the stars, he had seen the fox possessed with a kind of confidence, an undeniable energy about him. But now he just saw sorrow and despair. Fox dropped to his knees in sight of them all. The leader of Star Fox, the hero of Lylat and the most respected man in the system, was nothing more than a broken shell of his former self.

"I just... I just know she's gone. Gone."

They stared in dismal silence, unsure of what to make of the sight of the warrior who had once proudly fought for the well-being of everyone around him. He had been a mercenary, but it was never really the money that had mattered. It was the fight. The struggle, the knowledge that he had a purpose that drove him and made him get up in the mornings. That fight was gone now. Lylat had been at peace for years now, but Fox McCloud was in the midst of his greatest turmoil.

Falco walked up behind his friend and placed a hand on his shoulder, as it was all he could think to do.

"Because of me," Fox said brokenly. The despair in his voice was plain for all to hear. Falco was only left with further confusion.

"Hey... hey, Fox, I'm... I'm sure that whatever happened it-!"

Fox interrupted, tearing his shoulder free of his friend's grasp and walking towards the hull of the ship.

"She said it herself, Falco! I heard it with my own ears! She left because of me..."

He threw a punch at the unyielding metal in front of him.

"Because of me, damn it! Me! She said so herself!" He punctuated each sentence with a harsh, crashing punch against the hull of the ship. Falco knew he could break his hand if he kept it up, but for some reason he didn't want to interfere. Fox went on, shouting obscenities and bashing his fists, as if trying to personally tear the shuttle apart. It was a futile endeavor, but Fox could feel nothing of the pain in his hands or even the twisting, wrenching emotions in his heart. There was nothing but icy cold, a desire to simply vent his frustrations until he was spent and too tired to remember why he had been angry. He wanted to forget all of this.

And, eventually, he did stop, with a sprained wrist and hands swollen with bruises. He had cut himself too, somewhere. With a final, decisive bang, he let his hands drop to his sides and rested his forehead against the shuttle, the sudden cold providing sharp relief from Sauria's tropical mugginess. There was stillness save for the noises of the forest and Fox's deep, heavy breathing. Off in the distance some dinosaur bellowed. Falco stood bewildered, constantly shifting his weight, watching the other soldiers fidget uncomfortably. Even with orders as clear as theirs- retrieve Fox McCloud- they wanted the legendary pilot to lead them again.

Fox himself was in turmoil. He had spent himself. For weeks now he had been tormenting his mind with what ifs and if onlys. And now he was back, with people looking up to him once more. For a moment anger threatened to spike again. What right did they have to expect anything from him? How could they understand? He just wanted to go away and be left alone. There was nobody left in his life, there were no more wars to fight. His friends had achieved their dreams and then some. And him? He was left with nothing.

No, that wasn't quite true. He had told himself he couldn't go back, but if that was true, why was Falco here? Were Slippy and Peppy waiting too? If nothing else, couldn't he still just go back home? It wasn't much...

"Let's get out of here," Fox finally decided. There was a round of sighs from all the rest, and Falco finally gave himself permission to smile. He wrapped a friendly hand around Fox's shoulders.

"That's what I'm talking about, man. Come on, we'll take care of ya. I never liked Sauria anyway. There ain't any good bars here!"

For the time being, Fox thought his story was over, his life come to an abrupt conclusion, and now he would live alone until he died of old age. As he strapped himself into the waiting dropship and stared out over Sauria's endless, wild landscape, he convinced himself through tears and shaky breathing that, at the very least, his final fight had been met head-on, even if he wasn't successful. He could rest now. For some reason, in the back of his mind, he remembered that he hadn't been able to visit Tricky before he left. Maybe next time.

"Hey Fox," Falco piped up next to him.

"Hnnh?" the weary pilot replied.

"You ready?"

"For what?"

"Well, Lylat's gonna want to know where its favorite pilot has been! Things have gotten weird since you left. Venom is looking to join the Cornerian Alliance and the Systems Corps, and people aren't sure how they'll fit in. Papetoon's gettin' more civilized, and everyone's talking about a new space race to the next system over. It's a new world, Fox, and they're gonna want you to lead them in. Now personally I don't care, you take priority, but... we're gonna have to deal with all this."

McCloud stared long and hard at Falco, his deep green eyes dull and empty.

"I don't want to be their hero anymore."

Falco blinked a few times, looking as if he was mulling over something. Finally, he nodded.

"All right, Fox," he said as gently as he could. Fox went on as if he hadn't heard anything.

"I'm tired, Falco. We're mercenaries, man. We don't look for publicity, or peace. We look for jobs. But there are no more jobs. No more wars, no more pirates, no more nothing. Lylat's been used up. Hell, maybe even Star Wolf is going to go legit. All the fight's out of this place. Just like me. Krystal's gone, Falco. She was the only thing left I had to fight for. And I lost her."

He turned away, back to the window, as the ship began shaking during its atmospheric exit.

"I just want to be left alone."