Chapter Two
Year 491 PC
"What are you painting, Fox?" Mrs. O'Malley, a preschool teacher, sat down cross-legged alongside her student, looking at the piece of paper. Unlike the other students, Fox rarely got paint on his clothes or anywhere else, though a small smear under his left eye seemed always to appear. Even for an almost five year old, Fox was unconsciously neat.
"I... don't know." He looked down at the piece of paper, a bit puzzled. He had been growling at his painting for the last five minutes. It just didn't look right. It wasn't perfect like he saw it in his mind.
"Well it's very pretty. What is this, a lake? With trees and swans?" She studied the piece of paper very carefully. "Who lives in this house here?" She pointed, careful not to touch the wet paint.
He wiped off his hands and added red to one of the trees. "OTHER home." He said in a positive voice.
"Other? Does your family have a summer home dear? I don't think you live next to a lake…"
"Not me. OTHER." He insisted, rubbing a slice of brown into the lake from the shore and adding a smaller splotch which Mrs. O'Malley took to be a dock with a boat. "OTHER home. Not here… far away."
"A dream home?" She asked after a long moment. Normally a child would have lost some interest by now, but Fox had always seemed rather focused for his age. As she watched, he added a circle of gold around what was the house. "Lights?"
"No. Glow." He said after a moment. "Um. Shiny. No…"
"Shimmer?"
"Um." He rubbed the back of his hand over one cheek, adding a mark of paint under his right eye. "Um. Don't know. Just… other home."
She nodded, stood, and left him to his painting.
"Sweet dreams." Vixy pecked her son on the cheek and left the room, turning off the lights as she went and mostly closing the door. The slice of light from the hallway wandered across the room and crossed his bed, about at stomach level.
Fox sighed and sank into his pillow, looking at the ceiling. His painting was on the wall, and it still bothered him. It wasn't right yet. Missing, missing something. He wasn't sure what.
He was half asleep when he saw/felt the tendril of blue and gold uncurl in the back of his mind, questioning.
Friend?
'I'm here.' He replied drowsily, or that was the equivalence of his emotions-only reply.
There was a pause, and the gold trailed through his mind, the blue a comfortable mental haze. Why we not talk no more?
'You know. Too hard.' He yawned. 'Kinda hurts our heads. Wanted to ask… why don't I know your name? I've known you long as I can remember…'
You know. We no need names. Just kinda feel each other.
'Yeah. Guess so. Other, do you think this is… is right? Not right word. Um. Normal?'
Normal? Why it not be normal? It IS. Why whine?
'I made a painting today.' He frowned, trying to show his other what he had done. 'My teacher wanted to know what it was.'
A surge of happiness reached him. My home! Pretty! You're a good painter.
'Thanks.' He smiled, trying to relay the feeling back. It seemed that once upon a time, it was so much easier to do this. Now, it seemed too hard, and it made his brain ache. Even as he thought that to himself, his other agreed. It hurt his other's head too.
And those icky things my mommy makes me chew up don't help. His other seemed to make a face.
'Same here…' He yawned again. 'I'm sleepy.'
Me too.
'Other, can I have your name?'
There was a long pause. My momma calls me Ash.
Ash? Fighting the urge to drift into dreams, Fox yawned again and responded. 'Mine calls me Fox.'
Sweet dreams, Fox.
'Yeah. You too.'
"Mr. McCloud, what are you doing here?" Mrs. O'Malley looked surprised, even more so because her student's father was in his full uniform, and looked very stressed and very worried.
"I must speak to Fox." He looked to his son and gestured. Fox got up from where he was playing with the blocks and bounced over.
"Hi dad." He smiled, then saw his father's eyes. "Dad…? Dad, are you… are you crying?"
Mrs. O'Malley had already backed off to watch her other students, standing in another part of the rather large room, but still watched as James knelt and clasped his son's shoulders. She didn't hear what was being said, but even as she watched, James broke down, and so did Fox. James pulled his son close, rubbing his back and rocking him, meeting her eyes from across the room. She made her way back over.
"I'm going to have to pull him from class, Mrs. O'Malley." He said, still kneeling and hugging his son. "He may not be back for the next couple of days."
"Oh my… what has happened?" She looked down at them, feeling horror grow inside her.
Fox looked up at her, tears still dripping. "My mommy's dying."
"Mom…"
Vixy very weakly lifted a hand to take her son's, looking at him and feeling more tears slowly drip. James lifted his son onto the bed so he could sit next to his mother, then sat on the bed himself. Unbearable agony was in James' eyes, and Fox's mirrored his. "Hi kiddo. How was school?"
"School was ok. What happened to you, mom?" Even through the hospital gown, the imprint of many bandages was evident, and the chirping of the sensors filled the room.
"Something bad happened to your daddy's car… someone put something very bad on it that made it blow up… mommy was driving the car when it did." She very slowly took a breath and let it out. "It hurt me very much, Fox."
"The doctors… the doctors said… mom…" He tossed himself down, hugging her and sobbing. "Said they couldn't help you… why can't they help you mom…"
She slowly lifted her arms to hold her son, rubbing his back and trying to soothe him. "Shh, baby. There's only so much they can do. It's just my time."
"It SHOULDN'T be! You're not old! You shouldn't have to die!"
She didn't reply, just held him, eyes half-closed against the pain that bit at her. James stretched out on the bed, laying beside her and wrapping an arm around both her and Fox. She laced the fingers of one of her hands with his, turning her head to look at him. "James…"
He closed his eyes, a single tear escaping. "I always wondered when Heaven would take my angel away from me."
She let out a whispered sob, and the trio burrowed into each other, holding as tight as they dared as one member was in pain. After many minutes a doctor came in, took one look at the scene, and left, closing his eyes.
"If anyone didn't deserve to die." The doctor said to a nearby nurse. He was fairly young, and even he could tell that the reports weren't good, that there was next to nothing they could do besides try to make her comfortable as her last minutes slowly trickled by. "I wanted to be a doctor to try to help people, and sometimes you see so much pain…"
"I couldn't agree more." The nurse passed the Kleenex. "I'd normally suggest not telling the father while the son's in the room, but… I think the son would be more upset if he didn't get to hear."
"I agree." He sighed and looked down at his clipboard. "But Heaven help me, I don't want to give them this report."
"Yes, but you have to Dave. Want me to be there with you?"
"Yes. And bring the Kleenex."
The pair reentered the room together, and the nurse saw why the young doctor was so pained. It took several minutes before the family even registered their presence.
"Doctor." The husband didn't move from where he was laying to hold his wife and son, voice tight with emotion.
"I've got the latest report…"
Fox twisted to look at them. "Can you help my mom?" A blunt question, his eyes wide and begging.
The doctor slowly closed his eyes. God, sometimes he hated his job. "No, young man. We can't."
Fox burst into tears, and Vixy gathered him close again, trying to soothe him. James simply whimpered and remained where he was.
"Shhh, little man, shh." Vixy whispered, rubbing his back. "I'll always be there. Don't worry."
"But…"
"Just remember me and I'll be there, little one."
The doctor slowly retreated, the nurse leaving the Kleenex at the foot of the bed. The doctor wandered to a waiting room and collapsed into a chair. Those there waiting on news on family members or friends under surgery or such stared at him.
"Dave?" The nurse leaned in.
"It's a cruel world." He replied. "God, do I need a drink."
"I'll take you when our shift ends, after we find a church. How's that?"
"Perfect. I feel like I need to apologize to her once she's slipped away. If there was anything I could do, god help me, I'd do it. But there's nothing I can do."
She found another box of Kleenex and left it with him, and after checking on the room a few times, ended up sitting next to him, feeling utterly miserable herself.
James leaned his head on the bed and cried, shoulders shaking. Fox had gone to the cafeteria with the young doctor, and it was then that Vixy had managed to weakly squeeze his hand, whisper goodbye, and slip away from him forever.
'God, why did you have to take her? Was heaven that in need of my angel?' He wondered, managing to stand as the doctors came in. They took one look at him, and one broke off from the group to help him out of the room. He tried to brush it off, even as he had trouble walking, and it took several minutes before he was in the hallway again.
The young doctor was standing there, holding Fox's hand. Fox was holding a mug of what smelled like hot cocoa to James, but upon looking at his father, he almost dropped it. Dave rescued the mug, stepping back as James knelt in front of Fox.
"Mom's sleeping, isn't she?" Fox finally asked.
"Yes, son. Mom's sleeping." James pulled his son close, tears still streaking down his face.
'My mom's gone.' Fox thought, kneeling at the new grave and slowly setting down the flowers he held. James crouched beside him and also added flowers. Peppy, who had given them the ride to the cemetery, also set a bouquet on the grave. 'Gone forever.'
I'm sorry friend. I'm so sorry.
'I just don't get why she had to die.' He replied in a somewhat depressed tone, letting his father pick him up and hug him close. 'She wasn't old, other. She was still young and pretty…'
A trickle of emotions ran through the back of his mind, and he let himself be comforted as he was carried back to Peppy's SUV. His father hadn't been fit to do much since the death, though he managed to keep them fed and keep the house clean. Luckily for his team, no missions had come up, and Peppy had come to the rescue. Pigma stayed out of it, settling for the part of the strong, silent person in the background even as he watched Peppy console their traumatized leader.
"You shouldn't blame yourself, you know." Peppy remarked in the car. James was slouched in shotgun, while Fox had curled up on the bench seat in back.
"It was meant for ME, Peppy. ME. Someone tried to get rid of me and ended up killing an innocent…"
"And tell me, if you had been in the car, how would that have improved matters?" Peppy shot a look at James. "Fox would instead be without his father, and I'd be without a team leader."
James shrugged.
"Life does go on James. I know you lost a major part of your life and yourself, but you've got to pull together. If anything for Fox's sake."
"Yeah, Pep… yeah I know… but coming home to a house without her laughter… without her scent… falling asleep alone in the bed she and I shared for seven years… It's just hard, Pep."
"I know, James. I know."
"I hope he pulls himself together soon." Pigma grunted, sharpening a galley knife absently, watching from under his eyebrows as James passed the door, head bowed and hands shoved into his pockets.
"It'll be a while before he's even near what he used to be." Peppy replied, sipping coffee. "He's lost part of himself, Pigma. I know that's a bit of a foreign principle to you and all, but…"
Pigma shook the knife under Peppy's nose. "What exactly are you insinuating?"
"That you're a greedy bastard." Peppy met Pigma's eyes. "A selfish, greedy bastard. I've known it for years. And you think that as long as James is in his current state, you can't make any money. And you're right. But I'm not going to let you pressure him. He's fragile right now. I don't want him broken."
"The hell do we have someone fragile in lead for, anyways…" He grunted, going back to sharpening the knife.
Five seconds later he found himself pinned against the counter with the newly-sharp knife pressed to the side of his throat.
"James is a great leader. And I will not hear him slandered. Especially… by… you." Peppy hissed, then turned and whipped the knife forward. It whistled through the air and thunked into the bull's-eye of the target that hung there for that purpose. Leaving Pigma to stare at the quivering knife, Peppy stalked out of the galley.
"Dad?"
"Hmm?" James looked up. He was sitting on the couch in the living room, a book open in his lap, looking at it without really seeing it. "Hey sport, what are you doing up?" He closed the book and set it aside, pulling Fox into his lap.
"Couldn't sleep." Fox replied, hugging his dad back. "The scents here are already changing…"
James closed his eyes and inhaled. "Yeah. I know. But we've got to make do, kiddo. We've got to. We don't have any other choice…"
Fox looked at him seriously, crossing his arms. "Are you ok?"
"No, not really." James laughed softly, leaning his head back. "Boy you are one intuitive kid…"
"'Cos you are." Was the simple reply. "But that's all right. I'm not ok either."
James tightened his hug unconsciously. "How about I make us some big mugs of hot cocoa, toss a few logs on the fire even if they're not needed, get out some stuff for s'mores, and flop in front of the fire."
"I have school tomorrow, dad."
"No, you don't, you're allowed time off for this sorta thing…" James replied, letting him go and standing. "So let's break some rules and stay up until all hours."
Fox grinned and followed him to the kitchen. "You know what dad?"
"What, kiddo?" James lifted himself onto the counter and fished a bag of marshmallows off the top shelf. Fox put the box of graham crackers next to it while James found the mini-Hershey bars Vixy had hidden.
"I think we're going to be okay." Fox nicked one of Hershey minis and snarfed it, looking up seriously at his dad.
James grinned, hopping down, setting the box of cocoa on the counter. "You know what? So do I."
