Stood outside the Cornerian Flight Academy. Watched all the bright eyed, bushy tailed youngsters scurrying around, and steeled himself to see Fox.
Was stubborn, this one. Had insisted on continuing his classes.
Met him in his dorm, and was glad to see he had some pals who were brave enough to be with him at a time like this: a proud one named Falco, and a gentle one named Slippy.
Had a sense of deja vu, that he'd seen this scene before: Fox was up and pacing, shoulders hunched, eyes in slits, tail thrashing, same as he dad had been, the night he lost Vickie, the night the car-bomb had gone off, except Fox didn't look entirely like Jim and didn't exactly act like him either. Was more talkative, more animated, just had a different face, those green eyes of his, and upon seeing Peppy he immediately burst out with.
"How could Pigma have done this?! He was at our holidays, birthdays. What the hell happened Peppy?"
"And what the fuck is this Andross' problem?" Falco questioned, drolly but with an undertone of malice.
Sat with them awhile, all tucked in together in this tiny room. Peppy took the desk chair, Falco perched on the windowsill, and Fox and Slippy sat side by side on the bed. Repeated the story, knowing Fox had already heard it, but this way he could hear it from a voice he knew, not just from some military report, and with his friends to witness him.
Wasn't getting any easier, telling this story. And how could he help Fox reconcile it when Peppy couldn't reconcile it for himself.
The way it had gone down, he remembered it as both excruciating slow and terribly quick, those last moments of looking at Jim, wanting to stay but knowing he needed to go, at Pigma, wondering what had happened to his friend, former friend, couldn't quite put him in past tense, where was the man who'd paid for his wife's funeral, for Jim's, who'd made him laugh when the world had gone dark.
He didn't know. He just didn't know.
Wished there was something more he could do for Fox, besides telling him that he'd see him at the funeral. Only thing he could think to give him was the last thing he'd said to his father. That he'd promised to look after him, and he intended to keep that promise.
Promises were important to Jim, after all.
The funeral itself was a blur. Went somewhere else. Lou came with him, along with his parents, and a bunch of his siblings too.
Was at a grand old church, with a lot of familiar faces in the crowd: old Air Force buddies; there was Fox, with his grandparents; saw that Falco and Slippy had come along for the ride too.
Was a packed house.
Didn't think it was any easier on Lou than it was on him. She was shaking by the time they got back in the car, and eventually managed to whisper to him.
"That could have been me standing up there. Like Fox had to do. I got lucky, and he didn't and I… I just feel so guilty. That you came back and Uncle Jim didn't."
Wished he had some sort of answer for her.
The eulogy had a bunch of references to Jim's proud service in the Air Force, commendations for him and Star Fox's diligent protection of the Lylat System, that he would be remembered for his sacrifice.
Peppy had gotten up, said a few words. Honestly couldn't remember what those words had been. Something along the lines that Jim was a good man, a great pilot, and an even better friend. That he was lucky to have met him, and proud to have known him.
Really wanted to know what Jim thought about the whole thing. Preacher talked about him being at peace, looking down on them all from his new vantage point.
That's the thing Peppy latched on to, and the only thing he was sure of.
Jim would like that, because Jim had always liked heights.
Had left out another word, that described his relationship with Jim. Hadn't been ready to when he was alive, and now it hurt too much to think of Jim as a lover, even though that's what he'd become at the end.
Had offered to help clean out Jim's apartment in the city. Got the keys from his parents. Stood outside the door. Flashed back to Eremi. How he'd stood at Jim's door, scared to knock. Was scared now too.
Took a deep breath, without knocking, then turned the key.
Stepped inside, closed the door behind him, but then just stood there, on the threshold. Looked around, but didn't make a move to step further inside.
Knew this wasn't a place Jim had spent a huge amount of time, but it still felt like him. Like his. Dark, natural colors. Navy blues, deep browns, earthy greens.
Went to the kitchen 'cause that was the easiest. Cleaned out the fridge. Threw out what had rotted. Started packing the spare amount of dish and silverware. Boxed up the remaining dry goods.
He was the first one in here. Jim's parents were busy with Jim's place in the country, and with their own heartache. They'd looked relieved when Peppy had offered to do this. Was glad to be able to do something for them. Despite his pa's warnings, Peppy had seen them socially on a few occasions, and they'd always been good to him.
Moved to the living room. Packed up some books. Some military type stuff, looked like gifts from Pepper. Maybe they'd always known that about each other. Born leaders, the both of them. Helped each other share the burden.
Philosophy. Remembered the guys back on the squad giving Jim a hard time about reading those, but Jim had never cared. Just gave them a slight upturn of his lips, that enigmatic smile of his, eyes hidden behind his sunglasses.
Jim always had that air about him. That he knew something you didn't. Could see things you couldn't. Maybe it was wisdom.
There were some photo albums too. Oldest one was one Jim's ma had probably put together, of when he was young. Jim had always looked older than his years, and he still had that even as a kit.
Saw some of Jim and Pepper, at their training. Maybe one of these was the one Pepper said Jim had knocked down, to tell him he was on his way out.
Was surprised but not sure why when he saw some photos of himself. Him and Jim at the air base cafeteria in their dull gray airman's uniforms – food there wasn't great, Peppy recalled – or the two of them hanging out in the hangar together, waiting to go up in the air.
There were photos from his and Vivian's wedding, then a whole lot more from Jim and Vickie's. Saw Fox as a young thing, running around, already a handful. Remembered one time they were all having a picnic, Fox was chasing Lou around and she'd gotten a bit spooked, had jumped up right onto Peppy's lap, with quite a bit of kick too, knocked him back in his seat, was actually kind of proud, strong legs, but then some fatherly instinct flipped on and he wrapped an arm around Lou before turning to Jim and declaring.
"Don't care if he's yours Jim, I'll still whip his hide!" Only to have everyone burst out in amusement: Jim in one of his rare full on laughs, joined by Vickie with her easy pealing ones; Viv with a shake of her head and a bemused chuckle, possibly wondering who she'd married; including Lou – at least she was feeling better – and including Fox – kit laughed in the face of danger.
All of it leaving Peppy mortified, and also wondering where that had come from, he'd never said that before in his life, only to realize he may never have said it, but he'd heard it all the time, from his own pa, and the dawning horror that brought about.
Looked through more photos, and there was Pigma, living it up with a glass of wine in his hand and an arm wrapped around one in a long line of girlfriends. Think they'd been celebrating him joining the Star Fox team. Girlfriends may not have been the right word, those relationships usually lasted a couple weeks. A month was pushing it. Looked closer, wondering if there'd been a clue back then, something he just hadn't seen, or hadn't wanted to see, and still didn't see anything. Still just saw his friend.
His outrageous, always pushing the boundary, pushing the envelope friend, but his friend regardless.
Packed the albums away. Was tired enough that he could get up and open the bedroom door without too much thought. Had the practical thought that he'd at least go and see what was in there.
Tried to avoid looking at the bed, except there wasn't much in here beside the bed. Went to the dresser, opened the drawers, rifled through Jim's clothes, just started throwing them in bags, but even if he was trying not to see, to feel, he couldn't avoid the smell in here, the whole room reeked of Jim, and he abandoned the clothes to empty the nightstand drawers.
Cleaned out the gear that while bearable, would be awkward for Jim's parents to have to deal with. Tried, almost desperately, to look at it from a remove, that he was doing this as Jim's friend, his old Air Force buddy, just like those guys at the funeral, even like Pepper, an especially close friend from the Air Force, or even as Jim's business partner at Star Fox, his wingman, but he couldn't quite manage it. Couldn't quite blank from his mind that this gear had nothing to do with him, that this perfectly made bed, a holdout from their Air Force days, had nothing to do with him.
That in all likelihood, the last person Jim had used this gear with was with him, and he couldn't stop himself from sitting down, really collapsing down, on the bed, couldn't stop the rush of memories, of him and Jim wrapped together in these very sheets, in this very room, and couldn't stop himself from wanting that again, for Jim to be here with him right now, for Peppy to not be here packing up his things, but for Jim to have invited him over, invited him back here, to the bed, and for the two of them to be back in it together, but he had to settle for what he had.
It was just him in here, and he laid down, covered himself up, and for a little while, let the darkness take him. Take him away.
Out or in, up or down, left or right.
Anywhere but here.
Woke up, was half awake. Couldn't quite remember where he was, but felt the warm weight of an arm wrapped around him, and he smiled. Smiled some more when he heard that low, raspy drawl, but then that smiled quickly turned into a frown by the end of it.
"You're stronger than you think you are. People have been underestimating you your whole life. Don't you start now too. And it's not all bad. I'm not really gone. Come on, Pep. Time to get up."
Peppy did get up, sat bolt upright in bed. Looked over at the clock. Felt totally rested, even though it'd only been an hour. Was only him in the bed, but he could still feel where that arm had been wrapped around him, still felt warm, until he got an acute case of the chills, 'cause he'd swear to anyone that for a moment, it really hadn't just been him.
That Jim had really been there. Been here. Just like he'd said.
That he wasn't really gone, and it really hadn't ended back there on Venom.
Promises were important to Jim, after all, and speaking of promises, here in this clear valley, he had an idea for something he could do to keep one of his own promises.
Something he could do for Fox.