Author's Note: Here is a little two-parter Katt and Falco piece that popped into my head. It bookends Starfox 64, with a slightly alternate post-war ending in chapter two. Chapter two will post in the next few weeks, as will chapter three of my new Sky Captain fic, 'Behind Enemy Lines.' In the meantime I hope you'll check out my new original fiction and travel writing on jleehazlett dot com.

Happy reading!

The slums of Zoness always sweltered under the high sun of late summer. The reptilian members of the population rejoiced in the heat, but everyone with fur or feathers was driven to live as much in the cool of night as they could manage. Katt Monroe was no exception to this seasonal necessity, and had spent the majority of the previous evening away from the tiny gang-owned flat she called her own. Now she dozed fitfully, chasing the remnants of a dream and trying to ignore the half-shaded noon light that was turning the room into an oven. The dream had been something about Falco and kissing and issues, but it slipped between the fingers of her consciousness every time she tried to grab hold of it.

She gave up on getting any more sleep when the fan on the window sill started to whine. Kicking her legs free of her tangled sheets, she rolled out of bed and stumbled across the room. The fan was an old contraption, half junk, and it had recently developed the frightening habit of smoking if it was left running during the hottest hours of the day. Falco had promised to take a look at it weeks earlier, but every time he came over he never made it any further than the bed. That was as much her fault as his, as there was nothing they were so well matched in as their sexuality, but today Katt felt like blaming him entirely for the delay. "Stupid boy," she muttered, and yanked the fan's frayed electrical cord from the outlet.

The pads of her bare feet left wet marks on the worn linoleum as she made her way to the refrigerator. As soon as she opened the door the appliance began to chug sluggishly, struggling to keep up with her demand for cold milk and colder beer. She hadn't had any of the former since the first of the month, but there was one can of cheap lager left on the bottom shelf. It was Falco's, but after last night she didn't care if drinking it made him mad. The aluminum was cool enough against her paw to make her groan happily, and although it wasn't yet one o'clock she carried the can out into the hall with her.

Only the lowest of the building's front steps were exposed to the sunlight at this time of day. She curled up in her usual place at the top, cracked open her beer, and looked towards the children playing on the opposite side of the street. They were busy choosing up sides for a game of football, and she watched as they split themselves along racial lines. The reptilian children arrayed themselves in the glare of mid-day, stretching their arms towards the sky and buzzing with energy. In the shade slouched the mammalian and avian youths, their faces tired but eager as they kicked a ragged old ball back and forth.

There was not a single exception to this strict division between smooth skins and sweaty hides. To an outsider the game would have looked like the beginnings of a race war, but Katt knew better. In summer the reptilians took the hot side of the field in order to spare their warm-blooded opponents, who would quickly overheat if they were made to play in the sun. In the winter the concession was reversed, and frequent breaks were called so that the cold-blooded players could go inside to warm up. Racism was something only the well-off tourists who flocked to the luxury resorts on Zoness' other islands could afford to indulge in. Here, where every day was a struggle, people didn't judge their neighbors based on what planet they had come from.

It was for that reason that no one looked twice when she and Falco walked down the street holding hands. They both wore the bright orange and smoky gray of the Street Hot Rodders, and that was all the similarity that was required. Even if either of them had had living relatives, there would not likely have been any objections to their romance. Half the people Katt met on a day to day basis were of mixed background, and they were no worse off than those of 'purer' stock. All that mattered when it came to choosing a partner, she thought as she sipped her rapidly warming drink, was love.

The substance of the dream she had been chasing a short while earlier came back to her suddenly; love, and how her boyfriend hadn't been given enough of it as a child. His parents were as dead as hers, but at least when hers had been alive they had made her feel wanted. The same could not be said for Falco's mother, who had wandered back and forth between prostitution and petty theft in order to support her drug habit. Katt had known Letitia Lombardi, and while it had always seemed to her that the older female cared for her son she hadn't been good at expressing it. Lately Falco had started evincing the same sort of vague indifference that his mother had shown, and Katt didn't like it.

Maybe things would have been different if his father hadn't been gunned down in a drive-by before he was born. More than once Katt had lain awake and imagined how it would be to watch the man you loved be murdered as his baby quickened in your womb. What kind of fear must Letitia have felt, she wondered, when she'd heard that her newborn was male and seen that he looked just like his father? Perhaps the bereft mother had had a premonition that her offspring would end in the same way her husband had. Perhaps that was why she hadn't dared to get too close. Perhaps the pain had just been too much for her to bear.

Every time Katt played that mental game she gained a bit more sympathy for Letitia and a bit more fear for her boyfriend. His father had been a high-ranking member of the very gang that they were members of, after all, and with the way Falco's star was rising he would soon match him in importance. He would be a lucrative target when they inevitably went to war again with a rival organization, and then what? Falco was a survivor, but that didn't mean he was invincible.

He had seemed to think he was twelve hours earlier. Tensions had been building between all of the local gangs for weeks in anticipation of last night's important intra-island spaceship race, and when she and Falco had managed a one-two victory for the Hot Rodders he had been rightfully proud. He'd been so proud, in fact, that he hadn't bothered to hide his delight from their defeated opponents. Several of them had shot murderous glares in his direction, and Falco had replied with an arrogant smirk. If Katt hadn't succeeded in pulling him away things might have devolved into a fight – into the very war she feared, maybe – right then and there.

He'd been almost bubbly as he walked her home, reliving the race out loud and speculating about the weaknesses the other groups had shown. Her disbelief at his lack of diplomacy swelled as she listened to him go on and on. Finally, unable to remain silent lest she find herself standing in Letitia's shoes in a few years' time, she'd burst into a tirade about his foolish, testosterone-driven attitude towards life. Of all the things she had said during her frightened and angry lecture, only the last line stood out clearly in her mind now. "It's too late for me to save myself from loving you," she'd told him, her shoulders shaking with emotion, "but maybe it's not too late for me to save you from the end you're running towards."

When she sputtered to a stop all he'd done was stare at her. His face had been hard, but considering his new penchant for hiding his emotions that had come as no surprise. The streetlight above them had picked out a strange glimmer in the depths of his gaze, though, and it was that shine that had caught Katt's attention. She had spent hours of her life, days even, studying his eyes, but she had never seen a look quite like that one in them before.

Before she could ask about it he bent down and pressed a gentle kiss to her lips. Then he gave her a wink that managed to be cocky despite the sadness lurking in the corners of his expression and turned his back on her. His name balanced on the end of her tongue as he walked away, but she didn't call after him. Only when he had vanished around the corner did she finally let it fall from her lips. "Falco…"

So what were they now? Had that soft kiss been his way of breaking up with her? He'd never taken advice well, but she was always able to get away with giving it to him anyway. Maybe she had pushed too far last night. Maybe, despite their long history, he had given up on her once he heard how she really felt. She had abused everything he cared about; his friends, his hobbies, the way he made money. For all that her attack had stemmed from love, she couldn't blame him for thinking she'd gone too far.

None of them could afford phones, so the only way she could find out their status before she saw him tonight at the Hot Rodders' hideout would be to go to the apartment he shared with his friend Luca, another of the gang's lower-echelon lieutenants. The prospect of walking six blocks in the withering tropical sun was not a pleasant one, however. Besides, if she went now and it was bad news she would be crushed. If she waited she would at least have a chance to indulge in a few daydreams first, daydreams in which Falco listened to her and they lived happily ever after. That was the better option by far, if only because it would delay any pain she might have coming.

The temperature had now mounted so high that even the reptilian children had stopped playing. They lay wherever they could find a bit of shade, panting alongside their furred and feathered fellows. The only motion in the world was the gentle shimmer of the air above the baking asphalt. It was for that reason that Katt jumped when a familiar figure stepped into view up the street and started in her direction.

She squinted through the glare, trying to make the person out. Part of her hoped that it was Falco coming to see her and explain his odd departure last night. Another part of her was determined to smack him for risking heat stroke. The shadow coming towards her was tall and skinny enough to be him, but as it drew closer she identified its true owner. "Rita?" she asked, her eyebrows rising as Luca's girlfriend collapsed on the stairs beside her. "Are you insane, girl? What are you doing out here?"

"Had to find you," the greyhound panted back. "Important. Shit…you got anything to drink?"

Katt handed over what was left of her beer. It had long ago gone warm, but Rita drained it without complaint. "Mm. That's better. Although," she frowned at the can, "ain't you a bit young to be drinking this early in the day?"

"…You're six months older than me, Ree, which means we're both four years short of legal. What does the time of day have to do with it?"

"Nothing, I guess. Anyway," her face became serious, "have you seen Falco?"

"Not since after the race. Why?"

Rita's forehead creased. "I thought you might know. Damn…"

"Know what?" A tendril of worry unfolded in Katt's stomach, and she latched onto the other girl's arm. "Rita…some of those guys last night, the guys from the other gangs, they looked really pissed with him. Did…has something happened?" A beat passed. "Is he okay?"

"I don't know. Only Luca told me…" Rita looked away. "Luca said he was arrested this morning."

"Arrested? Why? What-"

"I don't know that, either," the dog cut her off. "All I know is that Falco called the hideout a couple of hours ago and said he got picked up and that he…he probably wouldn't be able to come back."

"…Not able to come back?" Katt wracked her brain for all of the crimes she was aware of her boyfriend ever having committed, but she could think of nothing that might land him in prison long term. Yes, he'd been in plenty of melees, and she suspected that he had killed more than one person in them, but he wasn't violent by nature. His reputation among the Hot Rodders had grown out of his performance as a loyal foot soldier for the gang and his talent for flying chop-shop ships fast and well. He despised stealing and drug dealing and pimping, which she had always assumed were preferences borne of his mother's habits. What, she fretted, could the police possibly have on him? "Oh, god, Fal…"

"There's something else," Rita said. There was a note of confusion underlining her voice that caused Katt to look up quickly. Rita had serious street smarts, and she was usually the first among their group of friends to figure things out when a puzzle crossed their path. For her to sound lost now, when no one seemed to know what was going on with Falco and their next move was consequently uncertain, made a shiver of fear run down Katt's spine.

"What is it?"

"Falco said…he told Luca he left you a message."

"A message?" She shook her head. "But I haven't heard from him. I haven't heard anything."

"No, I mean…well, shit, girl, maybe you'd better just come look, okay? I'll show you what I'm talking about."

Katt was clad only in the short-shorts and sports bra she'd worn to bed, but she followed Rita off the steps without another word. The hot pavement singed her bare feet every time she had to mince across an unshaded section of road, and she soon regretted not putting on shoes. She could deal with the pain later, though; right now her boyfriend – her best friend – was trying to tell her something.

So she persevered for four blocks until they stepped into a weedy parking lot that often played host to impromptu gang meet-ups. Around the corner, Katt knew, was the needle-strewn park where she and Falco had met before either could claim double digits in their age. Just past that was the bus stop where they'd shared their first kiss. A block further on sat the dingy diner they visited as a treat on birthdays and anniversaries. All of those landmarks had the same gray, grungy look as everything else on this decrepit island of poverty, except in her mind. Pictured in relation to Falco, their importance in her life rendered them as bright and fresh as new graffiti.

It was new graffiti that Rita had brought her to look at. The back wall of the grocery store that marked one side of the parking lot was constantly being tagged, but today was the first time Katt had ever seen it covered in one cohesive message. Someone had gone over all the old signs and slangs with a layer of white that transitioned to pink at its edges. Atop the blank, snowy plain were three words, each measuring two feet tall and picked out in blue and red. "…Love that girl," Katt read in a whisper.

"Katt…" Luca had appeared beside her, and his anxious gaze crawled over her face. "Do you know what this is about?"

"Yeah, what's it mean?" someone else called out. Katt realized with a shock that there were almost a dozen people in Hot Rodders' orange staring up at the message. She couldn't imagine them gathering here by happenstance alone, not in today's heat. Word must be spreading fast about Falco's arrest and the mysterious note he'd left behind. No matter how many others knew that they were reading a note from Falco to her, though, none of them would understand what it meant the way she did.

It was a note from him to her, of that there could be no question. Her soft, calm, feminine shades focused the message that his colors, bold and vibrant and masculine, shouted out at the world. The scrawling script was his through and through. And above all there was that word, the one word she had so longed to hear him say; love. Love that girl. Love her. He, Falco, loved her, Katt, and this was the only way he'd been able to tell her.

It was too much. Katt buried her face in her hands and began to cry. "Oh, girl, don't do that!" Rita said, pulling her into a tight hug. "It'll be okay. The police don't have a thing on him! He'll be out soon. Won't he, Luca?"

"Well, that's…that's not what he said…"

"Won't he, Luca?" Rita tried again, her tone threatening.

"Oh! Yeah. Yeah, of course he will. But, uh, Katt…look, if you know what this means, it might help. He said you'd know what it means. So…do you?"

She did. The message plus the fact of Falco's arrest meant that he had done what she'd wanted and gotten out while he still could. Handing himself in to the police – and that was what he'd done, she was certain – wasn't what she'd had in mind when she'd been yelling at him the night before, but in the end he was alive. He had given up his life, everything he had built and worked for, because he loved her.

And someday, when he'd done whatever society required of him to make up for the deeds that he must have confessed to, he would come back and claim her again. That couldn't be so very many years away, not when neither of them were yet seventeen. His youth was his key to success, the one thing that might allow him to enter adulthood with a clean – or at least, a permanently sealed – record. He wasn't a criminal, just a young victim of circumstance trying to claim a better place in the world for himself. Surely there was enough common sense and mercy in the justice system for him to be recognized as someone who could still be saved.

In the meantime his reputation at home would have to be maintained. Katt knew that Falco would never sell out his fellow Hot Rodders in exchange for a reduced sentence, but not everyone would trust him as far as she did. If word got out that he had surrendered himself in a bid to escape the slums there would those who wanted retribution. Thoughts of betrayal aside, his attempt to find a better life would seem a slight, an insult, a sign of too much braggadocio even for their machismo-charged society. The Hot Rodders had enough connections in the prisons of Zoness to make her boyfriend's life hell if they wanted to, and she couldn't let that happen. She was his only defense on the ground now, and she would not give up one iota of the respect he had sacrificed his blood, sweat, and tears to earn. The complex meaning of Falco's message would remain known only to her.

Katt looked Luca in the face and wiped her streaming eyes. "…No," she lied. "It's a complete mystery to me. I'm sorry."