A/N: Well looks like I suck at respecting deadlines, oopsie. Sorry for the wait. ^^"

Chapter 6: You resemble him so much

"I'm in deep shit."

Andrew's horrified eyes zigzagged across the Venomian carrier. A fox was missing from the fuming spacecraft wreck. Andrew prayed he had ejected and landed in the desert, or had crawled out of the fire into safety. Perhaps the flames had consumed him and the wind had scattered the ashes—and there were darker scenarios.

"They took him?!" His fingers ploughed his head in frantic scratches. "I was supposed to keep an eye on him. The others at Sargasso are gonna… Oh strewth, Sargasso! Fox knows where Sargasso is!" He ignored the freshly plucked hairs in his hands. "And Corneria holds him! They have him! They will try…"

To make him talk. Although Corneria's interrogation techniques remained a secret, given the importance of Fox's knowledge, their keenness would, without doubts, leave marks on his auburn fur. A chill ran down his spine. "If he talks…" then Sargasso will perish, and Venom with it. "And if he doesn't…" then his blood is on my hands, and Wolf will hunt me until I rest underground.

He finished his words in his head, too scared to utter them aloud. His hopeless eyes searched the cavity, trying to assuage his panic rather than chancing upon Fox. He breathed faster. No possible universe offered a favourable outcome. The guilt. Sargasso's destruction. Wolf's wrath. He'd have to answer for it, in the next world if not in this one. All his dreams shattered.

Wait, what was that thing over there?

Andrew squinted. It flew further away and above the horizon, too far to make out details. He blocked the sun with his hand for better vision, when the solution dawned upon him. No time to lose! He ran with all his strength and arrived panting at his own spaceship resting nearby. The adrenaline covering the exhaustion, he seized the radio and scrabbled on it.

"Yes? Sabre? Don't ask questions, just listen! We don't have much time so I'll be quick!"

A dull pain on the head drew Fox out of a deep sleep. Darkness thinned to unveil a blurry haze. Breath after breath, his senses recovered their accuracy, as he felt the harsh metal floor he lay upon. He rubbed his eyes and discerned a grey ceiling, whereupon an unknown source behind him cast a dim orange light. A vague humming reverberated through the floor. A heat source? An engine? Where was he?

Fox rolled on his side and propped himself up with his elbow. The dull pain throbbed, making him wince and suck air through clenched teeth. His free paw groped about his head and met a thick scab where Falco had hit him. A part of him was thankful for his incapacity to behold the wound.

Pushing on his arm, he sat up and ran his gaze across the room, spacious enough for one person only. Sleek walls enclosed him, a bunk as sole company. Behind him, orange-glowing vertical bars blocked the way outside. Fox extended a paw and understood, from the hairs bristling as they neared the bars, touching them would be ill-advised. His memories still fresh, he extrapolated the bind he had jumped into.

"After everything I've been through, I escaped death just to end up here?" Fox closed his eyes and shook his head. Seething with rage, he hammered his head. "What was I thinking?! Why did I think it was a good idea?!"

The pirate life never attracted him—at least he thought so. But now that fate did a U-turn, he knew he'd miss those days. He foresaw the perennial laments over the rambles in space, the grief over the loss of his friends. Even the stench of Sargasso would ever and anon haunt his thoughts and remind him of the life he sacrificed, and for what? A victory good for his ego only? A glory he still failed to obtain? The momentary satisfaction of defeating a worthy opponent?

Corneria, Star Falco,… It was all a mistake, he thought with sorrow. How ironic it is, that valuable lessons are so often learnt too late. A few tears leaked through his closed eyelids. Please, let me fix this. Please let me go back.

Long and silent minutes succeeded one another, each stoking Fox's regret into a dark fire he didn't fight, letting it consume him, too exhausted to lash out. He collapsed on his side, coasting between sleep and wakefulness at the rhythm of his adrift thoughts. Abandoned. Alone.

A sudden light startled him and interrupted his prayers. Blinded, Fox dried his eyes, blinked and rose to look beyond the orange bars. Once accustomed to the brightness, he distinguished a figure. A middle aged hare with long ears bending under their own weight sussed him out from his position of safety, his controlled poise as hint to a distinguished career in the military. His weary look evinced a long life, full hardships and troubles and waiting for retirement to conclude it, and a conspicuous lack of sleep.

Fox locked eye contact and growled, "Where are you taking me?"

The hare didn't budge, and instead narrowed his eyes and rubbed his chin. After a moment, he said, "It's uncanny. Really uncanny."

"Answer me. Where am I? What should I expect from you?"

"You resemble him so much." He paced to and fro, unbothered by Fox's anger. "Is it a mere coincidence? In a different context, I would have sworn…"

Fox cocked a brow and waited. "What are you talking about?"

The hare stopped and showed his back, mumbling at himself. Fox discerned the words "But they died in that fire, years ago."

The strange character puttered and scratched various parts of his jaws, the silence and lack of response feeding Fox's frustration. He stumped his foot. "Hey! I'm right here! Why don't you talk to me?!"

His tantrum had no effect. The hare continued mumbling and staring into the void, before he inhaled and turned to Fox.

"It sounds absurd, because it is, right?" Although he spoke to the prisoner, he didn't seem to expect a reaction. "I don't even understand why I let this trouble me, there is no more to say or to learn about this tragedy. And yet, when I see you..." He halted, and as he stared at Fox, his affect metamorphosed. At first enigmatic, his eyes became filled with compassion, and his face relaxed to reveal a more friendly affect, full of hope and questions. "… I have doubts."

Fox reciprocated the look and spoke more firmly. "What the hell are you saying? Where are we?!"

"I'm trying to figure out whether grief has driven me insane, or fate is playing the cruellest of the tricks on me." The hare recovered his stern face. "Where do you come from, young man?"

"So the interrogation starts now? Not wasting any time, I see." He scoffed and paced in his cell. "Also, the name is Fox."

The old man sighed and furrowed his brows. "Peppy O'Hare. And you are on the Great Fox, Star Falco's mother-ship, currently between Fichina and Solar. Now listen, Fox. If it was an interrogation, you wouldn't have the luxury to play the smart arse. What we're having here is a different matter than what awaits you on Ceneri, so dispense with this attitude. My concerns aren't what you think." He stepped closer. "How did you end up on Sargasso?"

Ceneri? What is that place? Fox wondered, before shaking his head. "I did not end up on Sargasso. I am a native. A pure Sargassoan like you never saw."

"Born there?" Peppy replied, a whiff of scepticism in his voice. "And your parents? Still there?"

Fox inhaled to answer, but the air stuck in his throat. He never questioned Panther's tale on his origin and had seldom reflected thereon, thus far satisfied by the prospect of his adoptive father chancing upon him as a baby during a mission. But upon rewinding this story in his mind, with his adult perspective, it carried an unseen sense of implausibility and fictitiousness. Did Panther fabricate it? If yes, why? Whence did he come? If no… Why did it sound imagined? With a shrug of the shoulders, he postponed those ruminations. "Why are you asking this? It doesn't matter."

"It matters more than you think, Fox. I'm begging you, think! Where do you come from? What's the earliest thing you remember?" the hare said, eyes and voice pleading for an answer.

Taken aback, Fox stared at Peppy. A genuine concern inhabited the hare, in his manners of speech and emotions, like an inviting hand Fox only had to grab and follow towards calmer realms. Whilst sarcasm remained an option as a reply, Fox shunned the idea of backhanding this unexpected kindness. What was the old man seeking? Why the inquiries on Fox's past?

"I…" Fox hesitated. "I don't understand what you're asking. I don't see where you're getting at."

Disappointed, Peppy closed his eyes and stepped back. "I tried the peaceful approach."

"What?"

He whipped out a blaster and held Fox at gunpoint, face now devoid of compassion and kindness. "Turn around," he said without warmth.

Startled by the sudden change, Fox glowered as his lips uncovered his teeth, the connection with the hare now reduced to nil. For a moment, he'd seen a friendly face, which a dour counterpart now replaced. He cursed his gullibility. Of course they were enemies, how did he forget this? "Tell me wh—"

"I'm deeply sorry, but I have no alternative. Turn around and put your paws in the air."

With a begrudging growl, Fox slowly complied, the humiliation weighting his steps. "When will I get some explanations? What do you want, for Lylat's sake?!"

An electronic thud rang behind. Fox couldn't peek, but guessed Peppy had deactivated the bars. He heard him say, "Do I require threats for you to remain calm and compliant? Or is that self-evident?"

"Senile bastard…" He fought the boiling temptation to pounce and maul the hare whose steps resonated closer, clenching his fist to smother the anger. "What was that before? You just want to play with me?"

A firm paw seized a clump of fur on his shoulders. Before Fox could protest, Peppy plucked in a rough tug and shoved him forwards. Disoriented, Fox yelped and teetered before restoring his balance and covering the wound, still radiating pain. His incensed instincts stifling his reason, he leaped at Peppy. But the hare was swift to exit the room and reignite the bars, whereon Fox crashed.

The shock set each of his nerves on fire and hurled him across the cell. Breathless and tinnitus ringing in his ears, he fought against the pain to raise his head and see a disdainful stare beyond the bars. The hare's lips moved, and although Fox knew not whether he talked to himself of the prisoner, the words didn't seem laudatory.

"You old turd!" Fox watched Peppy walk away, an amber tuft of hairs in his paw. "You wondered if you were insane? Well, you are! One hundred per cent! Bat-shit crazy! You hear me, old man?! You're a doddering fool who'd mistake his toenails for his underwear!"

Only the dwindling steps' echoes replied, and soon silence reclaimed its territory. His limbs still weak and sore, Fox rested his head full of incomprehension and desperation on the cold floor. Had he the energy, he'd let his emotions flow, but exhaustion got a hold of him. He cursed Peppy and the universe, and told himself he'd cry another day, for now had come the time to sleep.

"Peppy?" Falco swivelled on his chair to face the hare upon his arrival in the command room, letting go of the outside view he distracted himself with. He fell into step as Peppy ignored him. "Peppy? What did he tell you?"

The hare continued his way, tucking something Falco couldn't see in a tissue and shoving it down his pocket. "It's an O'Hare's business, not Star Falco's."

"Everything here is my business!" He clasped Peppy's shoulder.

Peppy halted and faced the pheasant with a weary sigh.

Falco asked, "Did he spoke about Sargasso? Has he revealed anything? What did he say?"

"Nothing that matters to you," he replied whilst pushing the hand away. "Or to anybody, in all likelihood, believe me. But…" He took another slow breath. "I need to know for sure. I fear I won't be able to sleep till I have definitive confirmation."

Falco's brows knitted. "Confirmation of what?"

"If I told you, you'd assume I've lost my mind," Peppy said as he paced away. "Mayhap I had, in fact. I'm heading to Fichina. In the meantime, keep an eye on the prisoner and the ship."

"… Fichina?!"

"They're the closest, and I don't want to lose time."

"Can't you rejoin us on Ceneri?"

"No!" On a dime, Peppy turned and showed Falco his aghast face, at odds with its now gone poise. "Under no circumstances! Don't tell anybody we have him, and don't go to Ceneri yet! He must stay here till I return!"

Perplexed, Falco let a few seconds pass before replying, "What the hell is going on? You want us to stay here and count the stars?!"

Peppy's head tilted a tad forwards, revealing the white of the eyes, and his lips quivered slightly. He grumbled, "Falco, do not go to Ceneri without me. Stay around Fichina. I'll be back within days. Understood?"

The quiet tone and dead-serious expression stunned Falco, who swallowed his pride. Corneria's orbit was less of a challenge to bend than Peppy's obstinacy. Ever since Falco took the team's lead, the tension between him and Peppy never faltered. That old salt didn't fancy him buying the Great Fox and renaming the team Star Falco, he surmised.

Falco waved a dismissive hand and rolled his eyes

"Perfect." Satisfied, the hare resumed his route towards the hangars, leaving the pheasant just as clueless as the fox.

That's not him.

Peppy walked past the familiar corridors, lost in his thoughts. It can't be him, he couldn't have survived the fire… But he looks so much like him.

He stopped and beheld the mother-ship's icy walls surrounding him. His gaze dwelt on each nick, each imperfection on the metal. Engineers told him the Great Fox belonged to the past, yet he'd refuse to dismantle it, for each room and hallway carried a story. A broken pipe retold a drinking binge which went south. A seam on the wall testified of a spectacular accident right after the binge. And on, and on. The last memories of his late friend, a friend whose steps he heard, whose laughs he recognised, here and there, when alone in the Great Fox. A friend whose face resembled too much that of another fox.

He fetched a comm-device from his pocket. "Pepper? Yes… I… Later, later, I have more urgent matters, and I need a favour. There's something in the archives you must get sent to Fichina… Yes, right now, and fast!… No, it's not dangerous… I know, I'll explain later."

He can't be, he thought whilst walking towards the hangar. He can't possibly be James' son!

Falco waited until Peppy's steps faded away.

"Unbelievable." Slouching back on the swivel chair, he gawked at the hallway in which Peppy disappeared. Behind him, the window watched over outer space. "Absolutely unbelievable." He played the last minutes in his mind countlessly, each time with more questions than answers. "I'm the only sane animal on this ship. Heck, in this system. Everyone is walking on their head, it's amazing."

He realised a frog had been standing near him, eyeing with an expression mixing perplexity and hilarity. Startled, Falco jolted up, corrected his posture, and cleared his throat. "What is it, Slippy?"

With his short height and embonpoint, Slippy wasn't one to scare, even a child. His earnest round eyes inspired confidence, and by his polite manners and cheerful voice, one would assume he only needed a blue sky to call a day a good day. He said, "You tell me. We stopped our flight, and I just saw Peppy's ship exiting the bay. What's happening?"

"Yeah! What's happening! Excellent question, Slippy!" Hands behind his back, he stepped towards the window. "You saw what happened. Peppy left, and we'll wait for him."

"So we just twiddle our thumbs?"

"Why do you ask me? Am I supposed to know the whys and wherefores of everything you guys do or think, while you just take some surprise vacations to visit your secret girlfriends or something? Am I the only one who remembers we hold the most wanted criminal in Lylat and who takes it seriously?!"

Slippy sighed and endured with weary eyes.

"As for what to do," Falco continued, "why don't you paint the whole Great Fox in brown? And then in red? And in blue? And in every colour you can find until you stop pestering me with stupid questions?"

"I'm sure glad I have your company," Slippy said in a flat tone.

"Go to that freaking fox if you want to play chess with somebody. Oh, wait." Falco's anger withered as an idea emerged in his mind. He grew a smile. "Yeah, I could do that in the meantime. Not like I had more important things to do anyway. Here's your order, Slippy: watch over the Great Fox while I chit chat with our guest."

As Falco walked out, Slippy caught his sleeve. "He went through a lot already. Is that necessary?"

Falco tugged his arm free and meandered throughout the Great Fox, curious about this second interaction's outcome. An additional victorious fistfight would delight his pride, and Peppy wouldn't burst his bubble this time. However, given the stakes, a low chance of losing was still too much. He shrugged. Not a problem, for he had ideas aplenty to have fun.

His route ended in front of the cell. Behind the orange bars, the fox lay on his side, covered with bruises Falco recognised. The most wanted animal in Lylat, sleeping in a tramp's comfort. Subject of countless rumours and horror stories, commoners uttered his name with fear, and none would picture this vulpine napping in charred clothes. What a sight.

There's a thousand ways… thought Falco with malice. After a brief reflection, he jumped as high as he could and let his boots smash the metal with the momentum of a meteor. The floor trembled, jolting awake a confused and panicked Fox, who looked around, panting, before locking his gaze on Falco. His mouth closed as he stared, immobile, piercing eyes filled with hate.

Falco leant on the wall across the bars and chuckled. "Room service."

Fox didn't react.

"Tell me, mighty fox, on a scale from one to twenty, how humiliated do you feel?"

The face on the other side concealed all emotions, only letting out a slight quiver of his lips. Falco noticed burns above the muzzle and burst into laughter.

"You tried to escape?!" he said between two laughs. "You thought they glowed to be fancy?!"

He let himself slide against the wall until he sat, too weak to stand up, shaken by uncontrollable hilarity.

"Oh I know I know! That's because we forgot to place the 'do not touch the obviously electrified bars' sign!" He held his belly and laughed anew, ignoring Fox, who had stood up and peered at him.

The prisoner shook his head, eyes closed in a disappointed expression. "You're all insane…"

"Huh?" Falco's laugh petered out as he dried his tears. "Who's 'all'?"

"The old man and you. You're both sniffing glue in your free time. I see no other explanation."

"I guess Peppy and you got acquainted already." He brought himself up to Fox's level. "He has his temper, but that was a strange reaction, even for him."

Silent, Fox maintained Falco's stare.

"What did you tell him?" asked Falco as he took a step forwards.

"Same thing to you. That he was insane."

Falco scoffed and moved closer, trying to appear menacing. "Don't play that game. I must know why he was so prompt to leave."

"Ask him. Maybe he'll talk to you. With me, he was nothing but an incoherent rambling of nonsense."

"I didn't yield better results and you're the one's left."

"Yeah, but… I'm not his leader." Fox sniggered.

Confused by this unexpected snap, Falco stood awhile. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"You think I didn't listen?" He rolled his eyes. "You think I didn't hear you talking down to your teammates? It's a miracle you guys managed so far, how Star Falco wasn't dismantled aeons ago is beyond my understanding. And I can't believe my eventual captor would be an impulsive narcissist birdie, treating his fellows like dirty socks. So, to answer your question: yes, I feel humiliated. Not because I was defeated, but because I was defeated by an insufferable twat farting so high above his own arse he'd create a new atmosphere!"

Too surprised to retort offhand, Falco listened, jaw clenched.

"I mean, look at you! You can't get answers from your own teammates, so you resort to asking a prisoner, and get angry when he states the obvious! How in Lylat are you a leader?" Fox sighed and shook his head, pensive. "You're a skilled pilot—fortunately, 'cause you'd be nothing without that. But you're no leader or strategist. That role isn't yours, it's…"

The sentence trailed off, and after a moment of reflection, Falco figured the missing part. He let his jaw drop in astonishment.

"You're serious?!" he said. "You?! You want this?! You picture yourself as a leader, and have the gall to call me crazy?!"

"And yet, I would've done a much better job than you. Under my command, the team would be close-knit, I'm sure of it."

"You would kill and pillage planet after planet!"

A thin spasm budged Fox's features. "No! I… If I wasn't forced to steal, I wouldn't have taken that path!"

"And if my grandpa had vanes, he'd be a watermill." Falco stepped forwards. "You're in no fantasy lands, there are rules here. Rules? You know what they are, huh? I'll try to be clear, because obviously you—"

Fox slipped his arms through the bars and grabbed Falco's jacket, who realised a tad too late he'd taken one fateful excessive step. Feeling the paw's firm grasp and swift yank, he barrelled into the bars, face burning and beak screaming in pain, as the voltage ran through his nerves and flung him away. His back hit the wall—or the floor, he couldn't tell. His eyes flashed, his ears shut down, fire coursed in his bones. As his vision unclouded, the ceiling became clear above him, and Falco fought against the stiffness in his muscle to exit his supine position. He looked at the cell.

The prisoner had sat down, hands behind his head, back against the wall, and watched, a long snigger accompanying an obnoxious smirk. Rage replaced pain in Falco's blood, breathing and grunting like a beast.

"Yeah, laugh!" he said in a hoarse voice. "Laugh all you can, that's your last opportunity! When you'll be in Ceneri, you won't have this chance! You understand?! You know what's for you on Ceneri?! Your worst nightmare! When you'll get there…" He stood on his trembling legs. "You'll pray every day for me to come and end things. You'll regret so bad I didn't plain shoot you on Venom!"

Fox had closed his eyes and pretended not to hear. Falco spat a last insult and walked away, struggling against the pain to maintain a straight posture. If the General Pepper hadn't insisted on keeping that fox guy alive, an accident would've occurred. To riddle that smug head with his blaster… Oh, the money he'd give for that. He reassured himself with the anticipation of that scum's eventual arrival on Ceneri. After all, his upcoming fate was far, far worse than death.

Falco stopped and glanced behind. He'll get the last laugh. He just had to wait.