Author's Note: A sort-of repost, touched up a few lines but left most of it the way I wrote it years ago. This will be a three chapter fic taking place just after the Aparoid Invasion. With all of the stressors in Fox's life, I always imagined that seeing the devastation caused by the aparoids probably did a number on his mental health as well as all of the people he almost lost during that time. And who better to comfort him than the person who's lost her entire planet?
CW: Anxiety, mental illness, depression, and unsettling imagery in a nightmare sequence.
Chapter I: Where Forever Ends
Metallic corridors stretched as far as his eyes could see. They were carved in the same dimensions—innumerable identical siblings that boxed him in. He could not remember how he came to be within their walls, but he knew that, somehow, they had existed for as long as he could remember. They never bowed in to trap him, to end his path. They only guided him—as though they were veins and he was the blood that circulated within. For all he knew, he was moving in a large circle and they were just watching him pass by in a cycle that could never be broken.
In the darkness ahead that seemed always just out of his grasp, there was a faint pulse of deep violet. It churned like a thunderstorm, uninviting but exhilarating. Something lay on the other side. Something his heart yearned for, burning like suns. He could not have guessed what it was but Fox McCloud knew he needed it.
Yet he could never reach it. No matter how hard he threw forward his Arwing's thrusters. It was an enigma he could never solve but he told himself that he had to keep trying. There was no logic to it all. It was a chase. It was a mystery. His heart screamed for an answer. It screamed for closure.
Closure he never felt he really had.
The corridor was never-ending. The storm crackled ahead but it eluded him, coyly drifting ever further away yet never out of sight. He willed his Arwing to fly faster, to cut through the gloom and to see what lay in the shrouded future. But his engines failed him and the ship slowed to a snail's pace. Angrily, Fox slammed his fists into the dashboard.
"No!" He yelled, the taste of defeat bitter and cruel. He made an attempt to press the Arwing into a boost, to chase after that unknown future. But his engines sputtered, disobeying him. The storm fell away into the horizon, barely in sight but ever tormenting him.
He chased it. Hours passed. Days. Years. Eons. They flew by arbitrarily. The corridor remained. The storm persisted. He carried on, achieving nothing. Tears of frustration glistened his vivid eyes as he choked back a sob. When would it end? The silence was deafening. The unknown tortured him.
The metal of the hallway began to shudder, as if it were to be pressed down upon by an unsurmountable weight. Fox watched it as it began to fracture then break. Shards of it scattered into the abyss. Parts of it fell away, clawed out by skeletal hands that reached from the swirling black and violet around him. Something rang in his head—a familiar voice with rage that could have shattered reality itself.
"YOU WILL DIE JUST LIKE YOUR FATHER!"
His muscle memory kicked in but his engines had gone out. He felt himself plummet, dragged down by gravity—gravity, somehow, in this void where nothing made sense anymore. Everything he did was just to stave off another apocalypse. Everything he strived for… would it all be erased someday? One day, would there be a fight that he could not win?
His Arwing scrapped the bottom of the corridor. Sparks flew. His flight was ended and all he had left to do was to stare up through the glass of his cockpit as Andross's skull was pulled from over the wall of the breaking corridor. His eye sockets were bloodied, filled with eyes stitching themselves back into existence. They fixated upon him, his fanged smile dripping with silver ooze. The ooze fell from his jaw, solidifying into metal that began to spread over his spectral visage. Pink veins etched themselves into the armored plating, his eyes turning neon and bloodshot.
"ALL FOR US. ALL THINGS IN THE UNIVERSE WILL BE OURS."
Twisted metallic spires jutted from his spine. He crawled unnaturally from the void, his claws becoming curved, lethal sickles. Legs began to sprout from his forming cyborg body, the sound of bone and metal fusing with a sizzle making the vulpine want to vomit. Flesh formed to reinforce where the ape and the sinister, metallic virus—the aparoid—met. A second head began to form—emotionless, a Krazoan mask that protruded from a second spine that stood looming over Andross's decrepit face. The mask's eyes glowed distorted red—a corruption of what it ought to have been.
Fox sat, paralyzed in his cockpit. To leave his Arwing was to die in the void. To stay was to perish. What choice did he have? He reached for his blaster, fangs bared in a silent scream. As the aparoid-Andross hybrid crawled down, its mouth opened. Fangs that would see his flesh torn asunder sought to devour the cockpit whole. Fox aimed the barrel of his gun to the ape's opened maw but his fingers were paralyzed. Joints unmoving, he watched death come for him, the ape's jaws wrapping down around the broken, useless Arwing. Fox heard the metal crunch once… then twice, the nightmarish world consumed by a malice that could never truly die.
Fox's eyes snapped open. He tried to breathe, tried to listen for the sound of his own exhaling and heard nothing. The world had gone silent. Deathly quiet as the emptiness of space. The vulpine's tipped ears strained to listen but he could sense nothing. His eyes flitted about—taking in what little details he could in the darkness of their hotel room. Sunshine crept in through the cracks between the hefty fabric. It was morning in Corneria City; it was time to wake up for the day. But his arms were weighed down by something unseen and his body felt numb to even the blaring air conditioner next to the bed. The vulpine blinked repeatedly, trying to snap himself into reality but he could not.
Eyelids drooped to a close for a split second—enough time for his subconscious to conjure up the image of the aparoidefied Andross again. His body gave a small jolt and he forced his lids open, glaring resilient holes through the popcorn ceiling. Letting a softness settle over his vision, Fox let his inner dialogue logic out his fears. At first, he felt like he was beating them back with a plastic straw but as his reasoning gained momentum, he felt his confidence build.
They're dead… they're dead… it's all right. They're dead. They're never… never coming back.
He blinked and still could see Andross's fangs, flashing for a split-second and burning their image into Fox's brain. Nails digging into the sterile white of the bed's sheets, the vulpine tried his best to banish the nightmarish memory. His torso shuddered with ragged breath—an erratic pattern of inhales and exhales that cut through the silence. Ears pinned back, he grabbed at his chest. He could feel his heart palpitating fearfully. He could hear his breathing. The curse was broken and he took a moment to revel in the return of his senses. Slowly, he slid back, resting against the headboard. It moaned a soft, high-pitched note in protest but he did not care.
"Fox?" a voice murmured in the soft darkness of the mid-morning. "Are you okay?"
"Y-yeah," he said, glancing down at where Krystal was snuggled next to him. "I'm all right."
"You don't sound all right," the vixen commented as she sat upright. Her loose t-shirt slid off to the side of her left shoulder. "Was it a nightmare again?"
It was a jumbled reality. But I guess sometimes things that happen in reality are nightmares.
"Yeah but… I'll be okay," Fox replied. His shaky hand found her hair, fingers combing through it. There were a few tangles but he did his best to tenderly brush through them. "Just go back to sleep."
"It's morning," the cerulean vixen remarked with a gander towards the curtains. "Mm. Light outside. According to our schedule, we ought to have been out of bed hours ago. But I think the rest was good for the both of us."
Strange she said that but he did not feel as though he had gotten an ounce of rest that night. Or the night before. Or the night before that. Fox smiled at her, a forced and ugly expression that crinkled his snout. He knew faking it around her was futile but he did his best. Fox just did not want her to worry.
"Yeah… I think so too."
It did not quite come out as reassuring as he had hoped but it was something.
His phone buzzed, its screen bursting to life with white light and a text message notification. Squinting, Fox reached out and grabbed it, pulling it close to his adjusting eyes to read whatever message he had gotten. It was from Beltino Toad. Ears erect, the vulpine opened the text message with a careful swipe of his finger. It read:
"General Pepper's results are coming back fine. They suspect a few more days in the hospital and then he should be good to move from ICU to a more comfortable suite. He will have to do some physical therapy as he suffered some spine damage in the crash. However, the doctors seem optimistic!"
Relief drowned him for a moment. His sigh heaved air from every bit of his chest, his stomach deflating. He clutched his phone tightly for a few moments. Nails tapping against its case, he rested the phone to his chest.
"What is it?" Krystal asked.
"General Pepper's doing good," Fox replied. "And thank goodness for that. After the invasion…"
His words faltered. Memories passed by his mind's eye in a flash, but their weight still felt as real as though he had experienced them all again. His other hand gripped the sheets so hard he felt his knuckles ache, pleading for him to stop. He glanced down at his fingers, gradually prying them apart with a hefty amount of mental willpower. Tension ate at his shoulders. Fox hated the way how his body never shut up after a battle. Days after fighting the Aparoid Queen and he still felt like he was thick in the moment. His hand moved from the sheets to his chest, feeling the way his heart throbbed—chained back like a beast but ever yearning for the fight.
"… I just never thought I'd have to do that. Fight him," Fox finished weakly.
"What you did was difficult. Not everyone can take up arms against someone they care about," Krystal said. He felt the warmth of her palm against his forearm. It radiated like the sun, breathing life slowly into his body. "Ultimately… you saved him. Don't forget that."
"His back was injured when his ship went down," Fox began, feeling guilt rise with a lump in his throat.
"And what would have happened if you hadn't fought him?" Krystal asked. "Fox. He wanted this. Stop trying to second-guess yourself. You did what was right and no one, not even General Pepper, could fault you for the repercussions." She hesitated for a moment, teal eyes glazing in thought. "If he's better, I guess that means Peppy can come with us when we leave. And you don't have to worry about…"
Oh. Right. The rumor.
Long ago, the Cornerians had thrown out ideas about monarchy but Corneria's high society of millionaires and military heroes felt equally misguided and convoluted. Fox had escaped it all when it had been presented to him—the fancy parties, the politics, the doe-eyed women that no doubt wanted to cling to the arm of the Hero of the Lylat System. He was glad he had never accepted that life. It seemed stifling.
But now, the door was opening again and this time, he was not so sure that saying no was easy. Within the military, many of the top personnel had be killed in the Aparoid Invasion. It was a severe blow to their nation's security. A few ruthless survivors circled Pepper's feeble body with bated breath—hoping that their name would be called in to become the next general should the old war hound give up the ghost. It came as a shock when General Pepper had given the word to name mercenary Peppy Hare as his replacement—an order uttered just moments before fading into a coma that had lasted a few days. Peppy had held a rank in the military at one point but he had turned his back on that life after the Civil War—when Fox's own father had left. Socially, it was seen as abandoning the good fight by the upper echelons of Cornerian high society. But Star Fox's good reputation countered much of negativity in that regard; after all, how many times had the mercenary team come to Corneria's aid at this point? Peppy might have been seen as anti-military but he was still a hero to the people. And the old hare did a good enough job at not letting the commentary get under his skin. Fox wondered if Peppy would take the General position if it was formally offered to him.
Truthfully, the vulpine would have not thought too hard about what would happen to Corneria's future if a dreaded rumor had not started circulating the capital city—rumors regarding General Pepper's will, which was a document no one could seemingly produce, yet somehow also a document containing the desire for "Fox McCloud to become the next General". There was obviously a lot of buzz about the validity of the rumor in the media, as well as among what was left from the higher ups. Could the General name a true successor to his title? Was that even allowed?
No one seemed to know. All anyone seemed to know was that the city was half-wrecked and the dead seemed too many to bury.
The vixen's hands found his again, guiding him from his frantic thoughts. Her sparkling turquoise eyes caught his. Fox exhaled out more tension that seemed to be manifesting faster than he could expel it.
"Even if it is true, you could always say no," Krystal reminded him but it sounded so simple coming from her. Krystal who knew everything. Krystal who could dispel rumors with a sharp glare and the snap of her dainty fingers. Krystal who was everything to him. Everything he knew. Everything he didn't know.
"And create a power vacuum? With all those power-hungry military officers just waitin' to pounce on the opportunity?" Fox asked tiredly.
"It doesn't have to be your concern," Krystal said.
"Everything is my concern!" Fox felt his voice rise until it was just shy of a shout. The vixen recoiled, bringing her hands away from him. Fox felt one of his tipped ears flit back ashamedly. "Ah… sorry. It's just… Stressful."
"I know," Krystal replied but her tone was thick with apprehension. "But you can't worry about it."
But Krystal, it's in my nature to worry just like it's in my nature to breathe.
"How are you feeling?" the vixen continued in concern—eyes moving up and down him in a quick scan.
"Tired? I don't know… I just have this awful feeling all over my body," Fox said bitterly. "It's like I can feel things… but at the same time? I can't." He raised a hand, touching each finger to his thumb in sequence.
"Are you that nervous about the General thing?" Krystal asked with raised brows.
"I'm not even sure anymore," Fox retorted, rising out of the bed.
Draped over a plain wooden chair were some clothes he had set out from the night before —a dark maroon shirt, jeans, and his cream-colored flight jacket. He began to gather them together into his arms, ignoring the way the vixen's eyes followed him.
The hotel bathroom was filled with white tile—immaculately scrubbed by tired hands that probably knew every groove in the grout. Its cold touch chilled the soles of his feet as he walked in, setting his clothes on the counter near the sink. He flipped the knob on the shower, until it was just a notch under the hottest it could be. As the steam began to rise, he pulled off his boxers and climbed in.
He leaned his head back to let the water rush over his scalp. Its warmth comforted him, soaking through his russet fur. He plopped shampoo into his palm and began to scrub himself, savoring the peace of silence and the gentle drumming of droplets from the showerhead. Fox sighed. The curtains blotted out the world—taking his troubles with it for a blissful moment. Sometimes, being alone was what he needed—a break from keeping up societal norms and lofty expectations, a moment where he could just breathe. His eyes fluttered shut and he let the shower cover his face, cherishing the warm flow. It felt nice. It felt like-
-Metal screeching as it gave way to strong steel and bone, he could feel the front of the cockpit cave in. The steering jutted up, into his sternum. Inside the ghastly ape's mouth was an abyss that reeked of sulphur and decay. Blood and death. He felt the air tear from his lungs through his agape mouth—a silent scream as the light outside was blotted out by the darkness of the beast's maw. Jaws shut like a guillotine.
Fox's eyes flashed open. It took him a moment to realize his jaw was taut, that his clawed fingers had found a curve in the shower curtains and were clinging to it. The next breath that came out was a dissatisfied hiss. Quickly, he scrubbed himself over again, fingers running over the alight nerves in his body. His heart rampaged a fervent allegro pace. A few minutes of scrubbing later and he turned off the shower, climbing back out. Fox grabbed the towel hanging over the toilet, using it to ruffle through his drenched fur.
It's not real. It's just a nightmare… and it's over now. It's over. All we can do is move forward. To a new future…
One where he hopefully was nowhere to be found in the General's will.
He glanced at himself in the fogged up mirror, taking grim note of the tiredness under his eyes. Pensive, he dried himself, wrapped the towel around his waist, then stepped out from the bathroom. A gander towards the bed and one of his tipped ears keenly caught the end of Krystal's voice adrift from the balcony beyond the bedside window.
"… this will mean so much to him. Thank you for understanding… Mhm. I'll see you later. Goodbye."
Not a second later, the sliding door leading outside began to open, revealing a thoughtful Krystal as she stepped in. Her ears swiveled in his direction, turquoise eyes lighting up. The acute angle of her smile worried him.
"What is it?" Fox asked.
"That was Peppy," Krystal answered.
"Any updates?" Fox asked.
"No, not about General Pepper. But he did say… to meet him at the Daniel Whippet Hangar in an hour. Think you'll be ready by then?" Krystal asked with an inquisitive head tilt.
"Yeah, should be," Fox shrugged. "Did he say what he wanted?"
"Mmm no, he didn't," Krystal shook her head. "Are you done with the shower? I still need one."
"Yeah, go on," Fox replied, plopping down on the bed and checking his text messages. Nothing. He sighed and fell back onto the bed. His damp fur clung awkwardly to his body, clumped together in weird patches. Fox gave a thought to fix it but his body already ached from yesterday's toiling in the sun and the many restless nights. He sighed, closing his eyes and feeling his exhaustion nip at his consciousness.
Fox did not feel himself slip into slumber—he closed his eyes and then opened them again when he felt something stroke his cheek. It took a moment for his vision to adjust but when it did, he stared up into Krystal's face. She sat next to him, azure fringe still damp but combed into place. She was dressed to depart, having shed her flight suit in favor of a violet crop top and a sleeveless white cardigan. Bangles on her wrists clinked together as her fingers worked through small tangles of his fur.
"I leave for just a few moments…" Krystal remarked softly.
"I…" Fox began, trying to come up with an excuse. Her raised brows banished his train of thought and he fell back quiet, ears pulling back. "Guess I'm just really tired."
"Mhm," Krystal said, unable to stop smiling. She bent down, kissing his forehead. "I can tell."
"What time is it?" he asked, turning his head to look towards the digital clock on the bedside table. It read 9:30am. "How long was I…?"
"Thirty minutes," Krystal cut him off. "We've still got some time. You ah… may want to think about getting dressed."
"Hm?" Fox asked her then realized that not only had he not gotten changed into his clothes for the day but also that his towel had slipped slightly. He bolted upright, missing Krystal's forehead by a fraction of an inch. She sat back with a laugh as he scrambled, pulling the towel from his floor and up to his waist.
"I didn't—um, I'm sorry about-" Fox fumbled.
The vixen gave a laugh, covering her muzzle with a dainty hand. Her eyes twinkled with deviousness. "If I didn't know any better, I'd say you were trying to 'put the moves on me'. Ah… isn't that how you Cornerians say it?"
"Yes," Fox replied. "And no, I wasn't… I mean… it's not that I don't want… ughhhh," he buried his snout into a hand. Her giggles grew louder and he mumbled out, "You're enjoying this, aren't you?"
"You're cute when you're flustered," Krystal teased gently, reaching out to his hand and pulling it down from his face. "Come on, let's get you up and dressed. We're wasting daylight."
"Yeah, I guess we wouldn't want Peppy gettin' any ideas anyways," Fox added with a laugh.
One of the vixen's ears went to the side.
"Oh! Um, yes, we wouldn't want that at all," Krystal nodded.
Careful to keep his towel around his waist, Fox slipped off the bed and padded towards the bathroom. It still smelled of Krystal's perfume and soaps—strong with the aroma of lavender and roses. Fox drank in the air perhaps a little more so than normal, cherishing how the smell eased him. Regardless, he was quick to change into his clothes, smoothing out his light-toned hair so it did not stick out messily. Once he was satisfied, he stepped out of the bathroom and tossed a look over at where Krystal was fastening the straps of her sandals. He raised an eyebrow.
"You really want to work in those?" Fox asked as he sat down to put on his boots.
"It'll be fine," the vixen replied nonchalantly.
When he finished putting on his boots, they began towards the door. Krystal grabbed a hold of the knob, opening the door to reveal the brimming mid-morning sunlight. It flashed in Fox's eyes, blinding him. His eyelids shut for a moment, grimacing in pain. In the darkness of his mind's eye, he saw the outline of Andross's skull—a faint shape that grew more and more clear the longer he dwelled in his fearful thoughts. Eyes snapping open, he seized the side of the door, pulling himself from the shaded apartment and into the light.
"Fox…?" Krystal asked. He heard her softly shut the door. Its lock clicked loudly.
Forward. Focus on moving forward, Fox.
"I'll be fine," Fox replied with the shake of his head. His fingers twitched, feeling his fear subduing until it was a soft memory in the back of his mind, plaguing every thought. He sighed shakily, trying to dodge her concerned look. "Let's go meet with Peppy."