"We used to be so happy, Falco." Another flash of light.
"Shut the fuck up, Fox, now's not the time!" More gunfire.
"There's no other time to discuss it..." His voice began shaking.
"Just hold on, okay, Fox? Just hold on!" So was Falco's.
"It's bad, Falco, I know it." A few screams accompany the growing gunfire as another explosion rings through the battlefield.
"It's not fatal, Fox, you can make it through, I know it, come on!" One of Falco's hands were of Fox's neck. His other held one of Fox's hands. The front was falling. The dark night sky lit up more and more as the explosions neared.
"Falco, run, get out of here... My dad's here... He'll take care of me until evac comes..." The mortars kept creeping closer, Cornerian soldiers running forward into the fray, desperate to save the front, the noise of the battlefield making it difficult to hear. Blood kept escaping through Falco's fingers, onto the cold, hard ground.
"Slippy! Where the fuck is evac! We're losing him!" Falco was desperate, yelling into the microphone of his communicator. The advance of Cornerian forces halt at their position, firing desperately into the dark, hoping not to die. As more and more fall, another retreat is called, with each living soldier repeating the order down the line. Fox was speaking, but couldn't be heard over the growing chaos of the battle. His hand went limp in Falco's.
Time slowed to a standstill. The only thing Falco could hear was the beat of his own heart. With tears in his eyes, he grabbed his blaster, yelling and firing into the chaos. His ears fell deaf, and his eyesight also started to fail. He couldn't feel anything. They had taken his best friend, and he would take down as many of them as he could before following Fox into hell. Falco blacked out...
... and he awoke. In a bed. A comfortable bed. The sheets were white, and so were the walls. He was connected to all sorts of monitors, displaying information he didn't understand. He ripped the sensors off of his chest and sat up over the side of the bed as the device produced a high-pitched monotone alarm. Using his IV rack for balance, he stood and looked out the window. He saw mostly large buildings, and streets far below. He sighed, disappointed to be in a Corneria City hospital instead of being back on the Great Fox. He didn't think he was hurt that bad. He couldn't exactly remember anything, but he didn't feel any pain anywhere. He started to shuffle towards the door until his forgotten IV ripped out of his arm.
"Gah, fuck!" He grabbed his arm. The tape kept the IV in most of the way, which made it hurt quite a bit more. He ripped it out completely, and the rack tumbled to the floor.
"I see you're awake, and as irritable as ever." Falco spun around to the sound of the familiar voice.
"Well, if it isn't Peppy. I see you're doing fine? Oh wait, you weren't on the battlefield, were you?" Falco crossed his arms, looking very angry. The old hare stood in the doorway, wearing his Cornerian Officer uniform. He had retired from life on the line, and settled down as a high-ranking strategist for the Cornerian forces. "In fact, not only did you not fight, you also led hundreds of soldiers to their deaths, including Fox-!" Falco shouted. Peppy remained quiet as Falco started shaking, sinking to his knees. He could remember the battle. Fox, presumably lifeless in front of him on the cold hard ground, in a pool of his own blood. He put his hands over his face, struggling to hold back tears and sobs. He felt a hand on his shoulder.
"There is no way I could have known that -"
"Yeah, I bet there's no way you could've dispatched evac, either!" Falco yelled out in shock and anguish. He shook Peppy's hand off of his shoulder, trying to stand, but to no avail. Sudden fatigue overtook him.
Peppy sighed. "Look, kid, let me explain the situation. Fox isn't dead. His heart did stop for a bit, but we were able to resuscitate him with a quick blood transfusion and a defibrillator. He's been in ICU this whole time, recovering slowly. You've been out for a week, had a few bullets rip through ya." He helped Falco up onto his bed. By this point, he was openly sobbing out of relief. "You're in no position to go see him yourself, even if you were allowed to, so just get some rest, okay? The painkillers they have you on are very strong."
Falco took a minute to compose himself before looking up at Peppy, his eyelids drooping slightly. "You're not lyin' to me, are ya?" He chuckled giddily when Peppy shook his head. "That's such a relief, Pep, you have no idea. But no visitors in ICU, huh? Fine, I'll sleep. But if he dies tonight or somethin', I'm gonna kill you, you know that right?" Falco grinned jokingly.
Peppy patted him on the shoulder and turned around to leave. As Falco fell into unconsciousness once more, he thought he heard Peppy say that he would allow it...
Peppy had tried the same 'no visitors' tactic on Slippy as well, but to no avail. It was clear why he would. Slippy stayed next to Fox in the ICU every day and night, and today was no different. Eyelids heavy from lack of sleep, constant shaking from too much caffeine, dark bags under his eyes. He had taken to standing at attention to avoid falling asleep by accident. The dark room didn't help his case. The curtains in Fox's room were pulled shut and the lights were off, unless a doctor or nurse needed to check up on him. Fox, however, was the least of Peppy's concerns.
Peppy walked into the room with a glass of iced water, taking a glance at the unconscious fox on the bed. He looked peaceful. His heart rate monitor kept beeping, evidence that he was still alive. It would be very hard to tell otherwise. A large bandage covered the majority of the left side of his neck. That's the wound that almost killed fox. The surgeons patched him up quickly and with ease. He turned his attention back to the young frog, who looked like he was on the brink of passing out and collapsing. "You need to get some rest, Slippy. This isn't healthy for you, and you know Fox would say the same." Peppy waiting for a response, but none came. "Slippy? Hello? Are you with us, bud?" he poked Slippy's shoulder.
"Huh? Oh hey Peppy. Uh... Hey, Peppy. Fox has been doing fine. I've, uh... He's been doing fine." Slippy stayed at attention, but pulled his hands into tight fists.
Peppy sighed. "Slips, it's time for bed, bud." he put a gentle hand on Slippy's shoulder, to which he tried to protest, but instantly lost his balance and fell heavily into the cushioned chair behind him. Slippy was out almost upon contact with the chair. Peppy took a few sips of water and looked at Fox. He looked so much like his father. Peppy could feel dark tendrils of fear creep into the very fiber of his being. He really did not want to lose both of them.