Fox was never one to show emotion. When his mother died in a car bomb when he was just five, he never cried. Every time someone hugged him at the funeral they would tell him 'it's okay, baby, just let it all out,' but all he could ever manage was a blank stare. It got him the reputation for being a heartless bastard, but that couldn't have been further from the truth. He just knew that if he showed that he cared, someone would use it against him.
But right now it was all he could do to stop the tears running from behind his dark aviators.
Fox looked to his right to see his wingmates, Falco, Slippy, and Peppy, all attempting to process their grief. Falco was doing about the same as Fox was; a thousand mile stare at the wet grass. Slippy sobbed uncontrollably, letting the tears freefall from his bulbous eyes. Peppy, ever the glue that held the team together, wrapped a hand around the frog's shoulder, trying to comfort him the best he could. Peppy cast a glance at Fox, his eyes bloodshot and full of worry. He knew how bad Fox's mind could plague him but knew better than to try and help. Fox averted his gaze back to the ground, praying the rain would mask the lone tear that was traveling down his face.
Pallbearers began to carry a metallic black coffin to the freshly dug grave site, careful not to lose their balance on the slick terrain. Among the pallbearers was Fox's closest friend, a gray bulldog named Bill. Sunglasses also hid the bulldog's expression from view, but his pursed lips gave away his feelings. He nodded at Fox as he passed him with the coffin in tow, eventually ending the motorcade in front of a large gray tombstone. They held the coffin up as the priest performed the last rites. When the priest finished, the pallbearers lowered the coffin into the grave. Fox couldn't take it anymore, he had to get away. He turned his back from the graveyard and started to walk. He didn't have a particular destination in mind, he just knew he didn't want to hear the coffin hit the ground, sealing his father in the earth forever.
It took the Cornerian government two damn years to find James McCloud's body. Two long, naively hopeful years. Hoping every day that he would find his way back to Corneria. Hoping every night that he'd come home and tell Fox how proud he was of his son. But now those hopes had been laid to rest along with his father.
Fox snapped back to reality when he felt the familiar crunch of mulch under his feet. He took in the sight of the playground his father used to take him and Bill to play at when they were younger. It looked much more rugged than he remembered; many years had passed since the last time he laid eyes on it. Fox let out a shaky breath as he took a seat on the soaking wet swing. He absentmindedly swayed with the wind, letting his mind go numb for a little while.
A few hours passed and he hadn't moved at all. He was soaked, shivering as a particularly strong gust of wind blew rain at him. His teeth chattered so hard that he didn't even hear footsteps approach the swing set.
"Figured I'd find you here," a smooth baritone voice filled his ears. A voice that normally would fill him with giddiness and warmth barely snapped him out of his disassociative state. He felt warmth suddenly surround his body, and looked down to see a large military coat draped over him. "Goddamn, you're fucking soaked." The figure sat in the swing next to him.
The two sat in silence for a few minutes as Fox tried to come back to reality. He eventually noticed the gray fur of the dog in the swing next to him. Suddenly, grief assaulted all of Fox's senses. He buried his head in his hands and began to sob uncontrollably. The bulldog got up from the swing and lifted his friend up into a tight embrace. The vulpine buried his face into the bulldog's already soaked chest, staining his shirt with his tears.
"Why, Bill?" Fox's voice came out weak and shaky, barely above a whisper as his throat tightened. Bill didn't even know how to answer that question. He just held onto his friend tighter, massaging his back as the smaller one writhed in emotional agony. "Why couldn't I save him? Why couldn't I have stopped him from going on that fucking mission?" Fox's voice barely above a whisper, "Why did it have to be him?"
"I don't know, bud. I really don't," Bill replied softly, his deep voice rumbling Fox's body. He stroked the vulpine's back as his sobs slowly grew weaker. "I ain't gonna tell you that everything happens for a reason, because I just cant find a good reason to justify this fucking horrible crime. Just know that this ain't your fault, okay, Fox?" Bill pulled away and gazed into Fox's green eyes, "It ain't your fault."
With that, the dam broke, with both of them crying on each other. James was like a father to Bill. The one he could go to with any problem, be it puppy love, or school, or joining the army. Anything you wanted secret, it would be safe with James. And since he's been gone, Bill kept a lot of things bottled up. It all spilled out as the two young men held on to each other, as if one would disappear right before them.
As the tears stopped flowing from their eyes, the rain stopped falling from the sky. Bill looked down at the near comatose Fox in his arms, who was absentmindedly running his fingers through Bill's head fur. He smiled softly, glad he could comfort his friend. "Come on, bud, let's get you home," he said, releasing his grip on Fox. They started slowly walking back to Bill's hovercar, both eager to get warm and dry.
The ride was silent as both men were just to drained to make much conversation. A light drizzle began to fall again as it got a little darker outside. Fox ended up dozing off for a bit as the sound of the rain on the car's roof lulled him. Bill pulled into the spaceport where the Great Fox resided during Star Fox's off time. He smirked when he glanced at the sleeping vulpine in the passenger seat. "Fox, we're here, man," he nudged the other lightly.
Fox stirred from his nap and stretched lightly as he opened the door to step out. Bill followed him up the stairs leading to the ship's hull. They paused at the top of the stairs as Fox pulled the airlock hatch open. They embraced once again, neither one ready to face the grief alone. Fox looked up at Bill and knew that they both wouldn't be able to make the night alone. "Hey, wanna spend the night; just like old times?" Fox asked, knowing full well what the answer would be.
Bill smiled a little, relieved at the offer. "Yeah, just like old times."
They ended up laying down next to each other on Fox's bed, talking about James and all the little adventures they used to go on when they were younger. Like their play dates when they were kits, hanging out in the spaceport hangars and practicing their flying on the Arwing simulators, and their academy days before the war. Eventually, they both fell asleep, just comfortable to be in the company of one another. And when they awoke, they both knew that James was finally at peace, because they had found their peace.