Chapter II: An Empty Glass
Salt from the churning ocean tickled his nostrils, the gentle roar of the undulating tide cultivating the serenity of the moment. Her azure bangs tossed in waves of their own in the sea-chilled breeze. Hands clasped behind her back, she walked with a spirited sway. She walked along the curb, feet careful to dance around the cracks in the pavement. Every move she made was fluid as a river with the precision of an arrow nocked and loosed by the hand of an expert marksman. Through the numbness he felt after his nightmare, he felt himself smile a hollow smile. It was a habit at this point. All of the cameras thrown into his face lately, the reporters shoving microphones to his snout—he had gotten used to putting on airs. Even around her. She glanced back at him briefly- a quick peek from the corner of her eye. Observing him keenly, the sunlight causing her irises to glimmer like seas of gemstones.
They continued along for a few more blocks- Krystal playing her balance game and Fox letting the fresh air try to revitalize his depleted energy levels. Each time he thought his nerves had fully settled, he saw more debris and thought of the destruction the aparoids had caused. Though most of Corneria City's larger structures remained standing, some of the smaller buildings had suffered massive damage. It made his heart ache when he looked at the charred remains of an office building but somehow even the hurt was not enough to tear his gaze away.
Even though we won, it doesn't feel much like a victory when you look at this. And this almost was worse… so much worse… if I had slipped up once… everything here would be gone.
As if sensing his growing distress, the vixen slowed down, glancing over her shoulder at him. He forced his gaze to meet hers, guilt spreading quickly from his heart to his fingers. Uncertainly, he thumbed through his cream-colored fringe. She said nothing then kept moving- slightly faster this time, or perhaps it was his imagination?
"It's a long walk to the hanger," he pointed out because talking felt like a necessity to keep his dark thoughts at bay.
Despite the sun's radiance bathing their fur and clothes, there was a chill in the air. He shoved one hand into his pocket, keeping the other out in case she were to fall. It took a lot to not try to hold her hand to steady her. He knew she could do it on her own but part of him screamed to protect her, even from the smallest things like a twisted ankle or a skinned knee.
"It feels nice outside," Krystal replied. "And besides, we're almost there."
"What did Peppy say he wanted for us to do?" Fox asked.
"It's a surprise," Krystal teased with the flick of her tail.
"Why?" Fox asked, left ear pulling to the side.
"What kind of question is that?" Krystal asked, stopping and turning to face him. "You don't… like surprises?"
"I guess it depends on what kind," Fox replied, scratching the back of his neck.
"Well, I hope you like this one. After these past few days…" Her voice broke, ebbing away on the cold gale. "... I think we could all use some time to relax."
Hard to say that when there's still bodies buried under buildings and homes still destroyed… And people still displaced... We have so much work ahead of us and we've already been working so hard. It feels like we've barely made a dent.
"I don't see when that's gonna happen," Fox remarked.
"You intend to have us stay here until Corneria is restored?" the vixen asked.
"I… well…" Fox began.
In all actuality, he was not sure. He just knew they had to stay. They had to. And when he felt comfortable with going, they would go… Fox just did not know when that would be. He had assumed he would just feel it in his heart. But now that she asked him, he realized he had no definitive way to answer that question. Not even when he asked himself.
"I want us to stay here long enough to make a difference," came his counter. A non-answer. Her pressing stare called him out and the vulpine scratched the back of his neck uneasily.
"It doesn't matter," Krystal said after a moment. For words that should have sounded so cold, they did not. They sounded distant- they sounded soft. They broke the tension in his shoulders, expelling a breath he did not even know he was holding from his lungs.
"W-what!? How can you say that…?" Fox asked, trying to find it in himself to get upset. He couldn't. He was too tired.
Her gaze pierced through him like splinters of glass, eviscerating what little energy he had left. The numbness within him seemed to hum, spreading until it ate at the corners of his vision. He wanted to bend over, to hold his knees and breathe for a moment- why did it feel like the breath had been sapped from his lungs? A heavy hand lifted, rubbing at the fur below his eyes. His fingers massaged the area until the dancing lights in his vision faded and his lungs remembered how to do their jobs. Her face remained unwavering all the while- scrutinizing him as though he were a captured specimen under a microscope. Fox hated when she did that- when she saw through him, saw him for his flaws. It made him feel naked.
"Come with me."
When she spoke, it invoked his feet to move with strength he did not know he had. Enchanted, he followed her onto the curb and into the carefully trimmed grass of a decimated cafe. Their hands found each other- hers lightly gripping onto his, as if her touch was made of clouds. His seizing hers with that drive to protect, as if she were a flower and the rest of the world a merciless maelstrom. His boots found the start of the decline from the sidewalk to the beach. The sand parted in the wake of his descent- half steps, half miniature slides down the side of the hill until it leveled out. Where the tide often came in, the sand had flattened, gripped together tightly by moisture. He might have thought the scene tranquil had the beach not been marred by a fallen Cornerian spacefighter, its wings jutting uncannily from the hard sand. The paint was starting to fade where the water lapped around it. Fox felt his stomach churn in tandem with the waves.
Her free hand reached out for his face, guiding it from the fallen plane towards her face. The turquoise of her eyes stood out like brimming gemstones against the oceanic scenery of their excursion. She walked until her feet hit the damp sand, leaving prints so detailed that he could make out the grooves of the bottoms of sandal's soles. Her azure hair rippled in the wind like interrupted waters.
Krystal stopped where the water met the earth in fickle, rhythmic laps. The shallows came halfway up her feet but she gracefully splashed through it as though it did not bother her. Fox realized he had stopped to admire her silhouette against the sunny sky. She cast a glance over her shoulder at him and motioned with her head to follow. He tentatively let the toes of his boots meet the water's edge. Krystal bent down at the knees, running her fingers through the clear shallows. Fox raised a brow. The vixen's mouth flickered into a small smile for a moment. She cupped her hands together, rising to her full height to show Fox the water trapped in her palms.
"Hold your hands out," she said and he obeyed apprehensively, cupping his own hands together.
She poured some of the water into his hands. Most of the water dripped between his fingers, leaking out until there was only a small amount left cradled in his palms.
"What am I supposed to do with this?" Fox asked her.
"When I was training as an acolyte on Cerinia, there was something my mentor told me one day. It was the fifth night we had been stationed to protect a high priestess that was being targeted for assassination. We had scarcely slept at all, knowing that if we were to fail, then the consequences would have been grave. A power vacuum would have sent the higher ups squabbling, letting chaos reign while our enemies closed in," Krystal explained.
Fox could feel the water seeping through his fingers, despite his best efforts to prevent it. The vixen's eyes moved from the water in his hand to his concentrated expression.
"My mentor—" Krystal began.
"Randorn?" Fox asked.
The azure vixen faltered for a moment.
"Yes, Randorn. On the fifth night, I was nearly asleep on my feet. Struggling to stay awake, struggling to walk even. I used the wall to support myself as I wandered down the palace corridor on patrol. New guards had come in to swap in for our positions but I didn't want to relinquish my post. I suppose you could say I… I didn't trust that anyone else could do it. I only trusted myself," Krystal continued. "I was so feeble… Randorn pulled me aside and he told me that I needed rest, that the others could handle it. I refused. He was upset at me. He said that if I had any chance at defending her, that I could prove it by hitting him with a spell. He told me to launch a Fire Blast at him."
"And did you?" Fox asked, brows raised. The water was almost gone entirely from his hands.
"I tried," Krystal admitted sheepishly. "But even with my staff at full power, I could not summon so much as a single spark of fire. Randorn, he had always been one to prove a point. He knocked me down with ease. And as I lay smarting on my rump, he demanded that I follow him to the gardens. I hobbled my way after him and he showed me to a pool of water that made up the garden's center. He took water into his hands and he told me to hold mine out."
"He poured the water in. Like I did to you," Krystal said. "He had me hold the water for some time. Then he told me to pour the water back. So, Fox… Pour the water back."
She held out her hands and Fox tilted his hands to gently return the last bit of water into her hands. There was so little water compared to before. His ears went back.
"You can't pour from an empty glass," the vixen said quietly.
"What does that even mean?" Fox asked tiredly.
Her eyes fell upon him with such intensity that he could feel the weight of what they had seen.
"If you're exhausted, you can't give anything out. You can't even help yourself. So what makes you think you can help anyone else like this?" Krystal asked softly.
I know that it's impossible to keep this up forever. But I feel like there's no other way. General Pepper is still in ICU and no one knows when he's going to be fit to run Corneria again. Peppy's got his hands full with everything. Who's going to lead the reconstruction effort if it isn't the Hero of Lylat?
"It's not a matter of can or can't," Fox replied. His hands covered hers, closing her fingers so that they rested against the warmth of her own palm. "It's that I have to."
Krystal's ears went back. He could feel the defeat sulk her shoulders. A gentle whoosh of water caressed their feet as the waves came in, as predictable as a pendulum's swing. Her other hand sat atop his. The way her irises gleamed, he could see that her thoughts were as frantic as the ocean under the oppression of a storm. Fox tried to temper it with a kiss to her forehead, but something still seemed distant about her expression. Finally, she pulled away from him, a bitter smile on her face.
"Well, if you're so certain," the vixen said wistfully. "Then let's not keep Peppy waiting."
They wandered back up the sandy slope, struggling against the grains until their feet hit pavement again. Krystal said nothing as they immersed themselves in the rubble. A bus drove by them, filled to the brim with volunteers with blank-face stares. He caught her watching him as the bus disappeared around the corner. A growing sense of unease within him made her gaze jerk away and he shoved his hands into his pockets. Briefly, he wondered if his parent's mausoleum still stood, or if it had been casualty in the invasion. The more he thought on it, the more he was not sure he could tolerate the truth. Not at the moment, at least.
As they walked, he felt Krystal draw closer—wordlessly. She had forsaken trailing along the curb in order to be next to him. He was not entirely sure when she had hooked her arm around his elbow, but soon enough, he became aware of it. Fox glanced at her and she looked dead ahead with that expressionless look on her face. He snuggled a little closer to her as they strolled, marveling at how warm she could radiate for having the mien of an iceberg at times.
The Grand Cornerian Airport came into sight a few minutes later. Its tediously constructed dome had been left unscathed despite the rampant debris around its premises. The airport had been renovated just a few years ago, its structure made with a new, contemporary look in mind. Its structure was geometrical and angled—a newer style of architecture that had sprung up since the Lylat Wars. Windows took up a significant portion of the walls, letting light freely stream in. A silvery statue of twin Cornerian fighters stood in front of the terminal doors. Fox recognized the model as the kind that Bill had flown during the Lylat Wars. The Corneria flag waved from nearby, where it was hoisted high upon its pole.
The crosswalk sign next to it had been knocked over, so they crossed when it was safe. A few yards passed underfoot and soon the duo stood in front of the sliding glass doors leading into the airport. When the doors parted, a gush of air conditioning surged from within, blowing back their fur as they stepped inside.
Usually, the airport would have been bustling with activity and announcements from the intercom about departures and arrivals. Today, it was eerily silent. The quiet seemed to radiate, echoing from the white tile floor to the high ceilings overhead. Fox caught a glimpse of a janitor sweeping. No one was working the front desks.
"Where's Peppy?" Fox asked.
Wordless, Krystal sauntered on by the empty kiosk, towards the security check, where a long-haired grey and white dog sat. Her excess head fringe had been pulled back by a blue bow. She was an older dog, with a pleasant enough smile. She sat in a nice little chair with a cup of coffee next to her on a podium.
"Good morning, dears," she said. "Got IDs?"
"Yes," Krystal said, sliding her pilot's license for the security agent to see.
"Krystal Syrius," the dog repeated. "Any weapons to declare?"
"A pseudo-sentient combat malikendo staff forged from the fires of Mount Xawh Vaho and lined with magic gems found only in the northern hemisphere of Cerinia," Krystal explained firmly.
"Erm… I see… Is that legal?" the security agent began, pulling out a manual.
"We're here on order of Acting General Peppy Hare," Fox cut in. "We're members of the Star Fox team."
"Oh!" the security agent shoved aside her manual and nodded. "I thought I recognized you both. Step through, dear."
As Krystal stepped through, Fox flashed his pilot's license just for good measure. The agent smiled and nodded before letting him through the scanner. There was a flash of green light as he passed through and a small beep to verify that he was cleared to go. He jogged over towards Krystal, emerald gaze shifting about. The corridor around them was empty.
"Huh," Fox observed.
"Let's go," Krystal said, taking his hand.
Empty businesses within the airport gave him a sense that they were trespassing, but Krystal's confidence made him think that maybe perhaps this was okay. He let her take the lead, holding loosely onto her hand as they made their way down the hall and towards the tram station. It was two minutes before the next tram arrived and in those two minutes, Fox could feel his heart flutter quicker and quicker. What were they doing here? Why did Peppy absolutely need to see them? He glanced back the way they came, feeling his stomach growl. Maybe they should have eaten before they had left…
"Fox," Krystal spoke up and the haze of distraction around his thoughts cleared up. "Do you think that Corneria City will ever be the same after this?"
"No," Fox replied. "Nothing's ever breached the barriers. Not since the Lylat Wars, at least."
"Hm," Krystal nodded.
A beep heralded the arrival of the tram. Like with most trams across Corneria City, it was unmanned, operated instead by an A.I. unit. Its sleek, lengthy body held no other passengers – and Fox marveled how lonely it felt to be the only ones wandering the airport. Once the tram slid into view and came to a stop, the duo boarded. They stood next to each other, grabbing a hold of the vertical railing to keep themselves steady. That did not stop Fox from bumping into Krystal as soon as the tram took off. Abashed, he glanced away, focusing his gaze outside at the airport.
It was hard to think that not too long ago, the entire city had been overrun by aparoids. Everything about that day felt like a fever dream. He could still remember the sound of the medics pulling the general free from his flagship, the remnants of the aparoid infection still trying to fuse him to the cockpit. He could still remember the feeling of the wind through his fur as Wolf flew him over Corneria City.
Wolf… I wonder if you're really gone. Something tells me you aren't. But maybe it's just my brain trying to cope with everything.
"ARRIVED… DANIEL WHIPPET HANGAR. PILOTS PLEASE PRESENT LICENSE UPON TRAM DEPARTURE."
He blinked, realizing that in his pondering, the tram had made the quick trip to their destination—the hanger where their Arwings were stored. Swiping his license by the scanner to depart, he trailed after Krystal—that heavy sensation of forlorn still resting on his heart. As he walked, he mused about the smaller details that had come to light—a tiny pain in his lower back when he stiffened his posture, the way his left ankle seemed to buckle if he stepped a certain way, the tightened feeling of his shoulders, as if they were permanently glued to his cheeks. He tried to release the tension in his body but it refused to leave.
Two guards stood on watch, positioned at either side of the hangar entrance. Krystal descended the steps from the tram platform with the grace of water flowing over river stones. Fox felt like a clunky moose in her wake. Both guards glanced only once at them, giving gruff nods before letting them pass. Krystal held the door for him as he wandered through, not sparing the guards even a glance.
The air in the hangar was stale, smelling of concrete, metal, and even a hint of dust. Daniel Whippet Hangar had been reserved for a few personal spacecraft but it was easy to see that the Cornerians had not been shy to cram a few of their fighters in as well. They were the newer ships, the type that had come out after the Lylat Wars. These were pristine in condition, likely unused in combat. Fox wondered how many of those there even were these days.
Since the Aparoid Invasion had been thwarted, most of the fighters left behind in the city had been purged. Traces of the infestation had clung to them and out of fear, the government had ordered them destroyed with their remnants left under observation in case of a resurgence. If Beltino's calculations had been correct, Fox doubted they would see so much as a speck of aparoid life amongst the rubble.
His Arwing sat with its counterparts as a somber guardian in the hangar. It felt like a year since he had last seen it. The blue paint still chipped from his scrap with the Aparoid Queen, it looked as dismal as it had before the Sauria Crisis. But its sleek frame called to him and, as if under a spell, the vulpine walked towards it. Fingers skimming over the team's logo emblazed upon the side of its hull, he smiled—a true and genuine smile. Nothing sounded better than a flight off-planet, getting lost in the stars. But that would have to wait. There were more pressing matters at hand.
Fox's emerald gaze wandered from it to the blue vixen, who could not contain a smirk. There was something mischievous about it that he did not like…
"We must've beat Peppy here," Fox remarked with a casual glance about the hangar. "Heh, and here I thought we were gonna be late."
Krystal's smile fell.
"Oh. Well…" Krystal began.
There's something she's not telling me.
He turned to look at her. Realization growing… growing… He stifled a groan, burying his snout into the palm of his hand.
"Krystal…" Fox said in a low voice. "Peppy didn't tell you meet us here, did he?"
"Fox, I…" the vixen began.
Two steps and he was in front of her, staring into her guilt-ridden eyes as she looked down and to the left. Her hands ran the length of her own forearms in a loose hug around her thin frame. It seemed like it took an eternity for her eyes to meet his.
"I'm sorry," she confessed quietly.
"What are we doing here?" Fox asked her, straining to keep his voice from rising.
"I thought… maybe if you saw your Arwing, you'd…" Krystal began.
"I'd what? Want to jump ship and go flying?" Fox asked in exasperation. "That I'd just forget everything that's going on here and go for a… a little cruise? What would the others say? What would Peppy say?"
"They all… wouldn't blame you," Krystal replied. Under the pressure of his words, her gaze had fallen back onto the concrete floor again, staring at nothing in particular. "I talked to them, Fox. They're worried about you, too."
The revelation humbled him for a moment before stoking his rage.
"And what do they have to be worried about? We all went through this together. Losing the Great Fox. Nearly losing Pepper. Nearly losing Peppy. Nearly losing…" Fox began, feeling his emotions crack along with his voice.
Everything. Nearly losing everything.
His anger manifested into a harsh exhale. "Look, I know you mean well, but we can't just run off. We've got work to do!"
"And why not?" Krystal demanded. "You saved everyone. What more could anyone demand of you?"
"It's not like that," Fox shot back. "It's not that they're demanding anything, it's that…"
I am. I'm demanding it from myself.
He shook his head. "Forget it. I can't believe you'd lie to me like this."
"I'm just asking that you take some time, Fox," Krystal pleaded. She took his hands into hers. He wanted to jerk away but he could not find it in himself to. "Time where we're not covered in ash and carrying out bodies and walking through half-crumbled buildings. Time where we can rest from that. Where we can take the time we need for ourselves."
"Krystal…" Fox shook his head. "It's just not that simple."
Her eyes pried deep into him. He felt her prodding at shadows in the corners of his mind. Fox recoiled, forcing her hands off of his. His boots felt heavy against the concrete, their tapping resounding loud in the emptiness of the hangar. Each step echoed. His back was to her but he could feel her stare nonetheless. It felt like shards of glass stabbing at him, pleading for him to turn around. Pleading for him not to go.
"If you really want me to drop this," Krystal began. There was a small quiver in her voice, but it was outshone by her adamant resolve. "Then… beat me in a fight."
"What!?" Fox spun around.
"Beat me in a fight," Krystal repeated. "A dogfight. Over Corneria City."
"Are you insane!?" Fox sputtered.
"Maybe," the vixen admitted. "But not as insane as you if you really think you can keep this up."
She walked forward. Hips gave a slight sway. Chin up. Eyes glancing downward at him. Even without mystic Cerinian powers, he could sense that she was forcing a semblance of authority on him. A challenge. Tipped ears back, he frowned at her. She had played him well, and he was just beginning to realize it. If there was anything Fox McCloud could not refuse, it was a challenge.
"Fine," Fox replied with a hissing exhale. The tips of his fangs gleamed as he spoke. "If this is what it's gonna take to appease you, I'll do it."
Her eyes lit up. Victory. She had won and he hated it.
"Great! I'll get clearance for us to take off," the vixen said with a dangerous smile.
Krystal strolled by him, emitting confidence that he knew had to have inwardly faltering. For all of her diligent training and quick reflexes, she did not have the years of experience in the Arwing like he did. And she knew she was at a disadvantage—she had to. That begged the question why she had even thought of challenging him in the first place? He shook his head and watched her converse with the guard about taking their Arwings for spin. When that was done, she turned back to look at him. Resolve filled her eyes, steeling her expression with determination. Fox realized something crucial in that moment. It was not her skill he feared; it was her stubbornness.
What have I gotten myself into this time?