Part II: The Funeral

The hanger was almost free from activity, but abundant in ships. Fox's military boots drummed a steady, dreaded pace down the walkway, his green eyes taking in the varied sizes of the experimental ships. Mark VI, Cornerian Fighter, he thought to himself, looking over the hull of the newest project that the Cornerian Army had been working on. It's sleeker, he commented, chest hollow and eyes tired. Up-curve wings. That's new, he thought to himself, head tilted to the side in thought. Green and cream? What an odd color choice. Usually the Cornerian Army prided themselves in their blue and silver crafts. He supposed it was a flashy difference. Maybe the painters just got bored… it wasn't that amusing of a thought, but he chuckled all the same.

A lurching creak announced the opening of the hanger doors, as a second Mark VI cautiously braked its way into the mouth of the building. Fox watched in curiosity as it flew, steadier than the Mark V and landed smoothly at the side of the one he had been observing previously.

I'll be flying one of those someday, he told himself, but there was a flame of doubt in the back of his mind. As the jet-black cockpit doors slid open, he saw the pilot remove a green and fuchsia helmet from her head. One leg swung over the side, then the other, and Fara Phoenix hopped from the craft, landing perfectly on the walkway.

"Another perfect test run!" She exclaimed to a nearby squirrel, who was jotting stuff down on a piece of paper. "We'll have to inform General Pepper that these planes are A-okay and ready to fly at his command!"

"I'll let him know!" the assistant squirrel chittered back, after adjusting the glasses on his nose.

As Fara put her vibrant helmet aside on the nearby table, Fox stopped to admire her. She wore a light colored jacket over her bright jumpsuit, made of matching green and pink. Her boots came to her knees, and her arm was adorned by a large, silver watch. The lithe pilot tossed a look over her shoulder, her round face lit up in a smile at Fox's presence.

"Come to see me fly, huh?" Her jade eyes shone for a moment, but suddenly darkened. "Fox? Fox, what's wrong?"

He wasn't aware that his face had been so transparent. Taken aback, the vulpine scratched the back of his neck, "I… Fara…" Words couldn't come out, and so Fox stood there, sputtering like a fool. Relief washed over him as she embraced him, arms tangling themselves around his upper torso. As her head nestled into his chest, he exhaled loudly, chin resting on the top of her head. "Fara…" He tried again, but he couldn't.

She held him for a moment before breaking away, arms loosely about him as she stared up into his eyes. Her large ears swiveled back, and he studied her worriedness, relenting with a sigh. "I received a letter…" He fumbled. No, that's not how this started out. "I was called into the headmaster's office…" I'm already falling to pieces… But as soon as he gathered his thoughts, they fell apart again. "Peppy's here. Pigma… he… I can't believe this is even happening. He said the team is mine, but I don't… I don't want it… I don't want any of this."

"Fox?" Fara's concern did nothing to help his nerves.

"We're closing the hanger in five!" someone from the back yelled, but Fara seemed not to hear them.

"What's wrong?" She asked him quietly, "Why are you shaking? What about Pigma and Peppy? What do you mean "the team"?"

"Dad's dead," Fox spilled out suddenly, shaking as he lifted his gaze to meet hers. "Dad's been killed." And suddenly, he felt the world spin, grabbing her shoulder as he clasped his forehead. Pigma killed him. And suddenly, he could see it now, the four Arwings flying through the red wasteland of Venom, until Pigma's blue lasers fired holes into his father's wings, until the maddened ape burst through the earth. He killed Dad, he killed Mom, thought the fox, feeling warmth gather in the pits of his throat. Nauseated, he let Fara sit him down, jade irises wide with shock.

And just like that, it spilled out. Words, shaking and cracked, but still sensible. He told her everything; of the letter, of Pigma's betrayal, of what his father had wanted of him, and of Peppy's plea to join the team. The fennec stayed silent all the while, an arm around him as he finished his tale and the lights began shutting off in the hanger. "I just want to stay here," He concluded, "Star Fox isn't for me."

"Then you should stay," Fara replied, rising to her feet. She offered a hand and he accepted it. With a mighty pull, the fennec helped him to his feet. "C'mon. Let's get out of here." They fumbled through the darkness for awhile before they found the door.

Stepping out into the night air, Fox breathed in the briskness of the wind, and took a gander at the stars. "It's not that hard," Fara explained, "You just have to listen to what you want to do. You're not your father."

She makes it seem so easy, Fox thought bitterly. "I guess you're right," he agreed half-heartedly. "I can't let them pressure me into doing something I don't really want to do." She nodded in agreement and he sighed, his breath a small wisp in the cooling air. "The funeral will be in a few days." Closed casket. There wasn't a body to recover… He thought to himself, but didn't voice it. "Will you go… I mean… will you go with me?"

"Of course," Fara nodded, holding onto his arm as they walked. "I'll be here for you, however you need me."

"Thank you, Fara," Fox kissed her forehead, "I… I don't know how the next few days will go."

"I'm sure your teachers will understand if you're not you're usual self. You may even be able to take a few days off from training," Fara suggested. "It might do you some good to gather your thoughts some. No one would blame you."

"No. Real soldiers don't have time to grieve. I can't take time off," Fox shook his head, "Not when there's so much to do. Flight tests. The Academy doesn't wait for anyone. The world doesn't wait for anyone."

She looked unconvinced, but Fara shrugged, "If you say so, Fox." He ignored the pessimism in her voice and walked down the street with her, the lampposts lighting their way. As a series of Cornerian Fighters zoomed overhead, he lifted his eyes upward, and watched them zip into the starry night. Will that be me, in a year's time? He asked himself. Doomed to night patrols and the occasional pursuit mission? It had seemed so glamorous a few days ago. The uniform had seemed so sleek, and Corneria City had seemed so vast… but now, the stars called to him.

I've never been conflicted about anything in my life, Fox thought to himself as he walked with his girlfriend. It's always been straightforward. Join the Flight Academy. Become an officer. But it seemed so trivial now. The wind carried his sigh as his boots clinked against the concrete sidewalk. A glance to his right, and he saw Fara, with starlight glittering in her eyes and a reassuring smile on her face. She doesn't get it. It's not this simple. But then again, had things ever been simple? Maybe I've been deluding myself. It was a fear he wasn't sure he wanted to face.


Fox stood in the front aisle, staring up at the arrangement of flowers and the black casket in their midst. A jackal in black and white stood at the podium, his voice a dull chime in the massive sanctuary of the church. To his right was Fara, who had chosen to wear a black simple dress, cut to the knee and with thin straps about the shoulders. A golden necklace and bracelet adorned her light brown fur, and her eyelids had been shaded with a pale crimson, her nails a matching color. Peppy was to his other side, in a jacket and pair of slacks. Slippy stood nearby, sniffling and wiping at his round eyes with a dampened tissue. Randorn was on the far side, brown eyes half-open and bags dragging them down into a droop, one of his hands fiddling at his bright red tie.

The vulpine scarcely listened to the words spoken of his father, instead, staring out into the nothingness of his thought. Fara's hand never left his grasp, though she squeezed it a few times to remind him that she was there. His eyes skirted to her once or twice and he gave a half-reassured smile before looking into the array of colorful flowers.

He probably would've sneezed because of half of these. Dad always said flowers were pretty from far away, but not so much up close. The thought gave him a small smile, but he hid it with a hand, looking away from his girlfriend and to his polished shoes. I ought to have been nicer to him.

Chords from the piano startled him a few moments later, the ceremony was over. He was left to shake hands of people he knew, fleeting faces and profuse apologies for his loss. Peppy clapped him on the shoulder and gave him a bearlike hug, while Fara lingered nearby, smelling of rich floral perfume. Randorn greeted Fox with a small sniffle and reeking of alcohol.

"I…" the wolf stammered, dodging eye contact. "I want you to know that I am sorry for what happened to your father."

"Randorn, it's… not your fault," Fox shook his head. It's Pigma's. Pigma and Andross did this… "I don't blame you at all." The stench of alcohol made the vulpine wrinkle his nose, but he tried to give the brown wolf a small smile all the same.

"I will figure this out," Randorn said adamantly, determination in his eyes, "I will find out why this is happened, Fox. I will figure out what Andross is planning. I… I promise. I owe it to James." He hiccupped. "Pigma won't get away with this…"

"I…" Fox nodded slowly, "I understand." The lean wolf patted his shoulder and toddled off, halfway drunk or so suspected Fox McCloud.

General Pepper was next to console him, clad in his typical crimson and gold uniform, topped with a military-style hat. "Your father and I attended the Flight Academy together. I don't know if he ever told you that," rumbled the bloodhound, sorrow in his dark eyes. "He, Peppy, and I… We were quite the trio. No different from you, Slippy, and Bill, I'm certain." He chuckled, but it rang with sadness.

"Is it true that Andross killed my mother?" Fox asked the General, drawing him away with a sheltering arm from the rest of the funeral-goers. Stunned, the hound's eyes widened despite the wrinkles, and he avoided the vulpine's gaze momentarily. Feeling his heart sink, Fox cast a glance over at Fara, who raised her brows in concern, but he waved her away with his free hand.

"Where did you hear of this?" General Pepper asked Fox, graveness flooding his voice.

"From my father," Fox answered, "He left me a letter. It explained everything."

General Pepper shifted uncomfortably, "I had hoped James wouldn't divulge such information to you. But I suppose you deserve to know what happened." He drew in a deep breath, "Andross attempted to assassinate your father due to jealousy."

"Jealousy?" Fox was taken aback. "Of… Dad?"

"Yes," General Pepper confirmed with a nod, "He was jealous of your father… because he was in love with Vixy. Your mother."

No… That can't be right. The fox shook his head, "What? He was in love with…"

"Your mother," General Pepper finished, "But he thought that as long as James was alive, he could never have her. So he put a bomb in his hovercar, not knowing Vixy meant to borrow it for the day…" And that was it. Fox lowered his head, rage lacing through his veins. Hands tightening into fists, he stared at the General, imploring him for more answers.

"I tried my hardest to keep this information from James—I even prohibited him from partaking in the investigation. But James… Well, your father had a way of finding things out. When the Cornerian Police had Andross cornered, he…" General Pepper stopped himself. "He retaliated. With your father's help, we were able to banish him."

"Andross is responsible for the deaths of both of my parents," Fox remarked hollowly, eyes cast towards the black casket adorned in petals. Does Peppy think that's enough to get me to quit the Academy? He dragged his gaze from the casket to the General. Is it? Do they all expect me to take revenge? Pepper looked pityingly at the fox, but he said nothing to him, sighing heavily. Do I… want revenge? There was a fire that burned in his chest, and he couldn't deny that it was growing. His mind was chaotic, with wishes to fly in the Defense Force, and dreams of seeing the entirety of the Lylat System. One moment, he wanted nothing more than a quiet life as an officer, with Fara at his side. The next, he thought of leaving Corneria and seeing what the stars had to offer. I feel like I'm being torn into two.

"It's okay to hate him, Fox," General Pepper said calmly, "I do."

"I know," Fox replied, voice a whisper. As the hound's brows raised, the fox tore his gaze away, swallowing back a nauseating wave of emotion. He shook it off, blinking rapidly to ward away the moisture forming, and asked, "This Andross guy… He'll hurt more people, won't he?" It was a question Fox already knew the answer to.

The hound paused to think a moment before he spoke, sighing deeply. "Yes," General Pepper replied, "He will."

So do I sit in the cockpit of a Mark VI and wait for the day to come when he returns to Corneria? That thought held no appeal to him, and the vulpine sighed in exasperation. "There's so many things that I want…" he muttered aloud. But none of them will cooperate with each other.

"Take your time to grieve, Fox. Take your time to think," General Pepper shook his head, "It's too early to decide the game plan."

"I can't sit still," Fox confessed, "I've always been the type of person to roll with the punches, General."

The bloodhound's lip curled into a smile beneath his hanging jowls, and a thoughtful spark flickered in his eyes. "That is true." Lightness in his voice made the fox tilt his head to the side, but the dog said nothing more of it. "Think, Fox. You have plenty of time." He retreated from the mourning son, back into the crowd, and left the red fox to think to himself.

As the attendees began to dwindle, Fox wound his way through the crowd, and towards the casket, emerald eyes shining with distress. "So…" mused the fox as he looked over the gold writing. James Fox McCloud Sr., he read inwardly, shaking his head all the while. "I know what you want me to do," his voice was a whisper, almost lost in the chattering of others. But maybe they're right. Maybe this time, I just can't jump up and keep going. He watched a group of heavy-set bulldogs approach and to lift the casket up, readying it to be carried out. Maybe I need to sit and think.

With impressive skill and strength, the dogs lifted the casket, and Fox watched, reminding himself that his father wasn't even in there. It's just a symbol… He told himself, but the tears formed all the same. He's already gone. But he couldn't ignore the heart-wrenching pain as they walked away, bearing the black and gold casket between them.