James sighed, settling the headphones on and flopping into the chair, guiding his fingers over the stereo remote automatically. He had gotten home hours ago, and now found himself unable to sleep, feeling a strange tangle of haunted and hopelessly turned on. Thirteen years, without a touch, without being held, tormenting himself over the memories of the one person he had really cared about dying in his arms. It had been his fault. He had kissed her minutes before, watching her pull out of the driveway, then the concussion of the blast had enfolded him, knocking him back as the fireball had leapt toward the sky, the broken body of his wife going through the windshield and hitting the road. He had been there seconds later, holding her hand and pleading for her told on until the ambulance called by a neighbor arrived. But with the damage done, it was only minutes later that she had left him, grip on his hand relaxing, his heart shattering.
They had never figured out who had targeted him at his home. The explosion had done away with any evidence that could have existed, and it never happened again. He had been forced to move on, keep living, because he knew his son depended on him. And that was still the mantra. Keep moving forward, stop thinking about the past, she's gone, all the time you spend blaming yourself won't change that fact.
And now, something inconceivable. He had seen her, earlier that day, a different name, no memory, but it had been her. Somehow, even with a clean slate, the mannerisms had stayed, the smile, and it had taken every bit of his willpower not to take her in his arms, cry on his shoulder, babble like an idiot. He still wanted to.
But was it her?
Was this even right?
It was illegal to clone anything but basic animals. Cloning a real person was something like five felonies at once. Cloning someone long gone? That was at least the death penalty in the end because the charge list became ridiculous. But Andross' genetic work had never really been legal. He had created some supercrops that now fed half the planet, sure, but he had created brutal living war machines, incurable viruses, and altered living people. His exile had been a mild punishment in comparison to the crimes, and now, in an attempt to muzzle him, he had brought back the one person he knew James had ever truly loved.
But was it her?
Was it some elaborate mockup, to trick him into going along with it? He moaned, cupping his face in his hands, trying to drown out his mental tailchasing with music and failing. This was a choice between everything he had and a slim chance of holding his wife again. I'd be starting from square one, having to get to know this new her, gambling on the fact that she'd accept him while he was so much older then she was. But just the mental image of being able to wake up and have her sleeping next to him, just the idea of being able to kiss her again… his fingers curled into fists, body trying to release some of the tension built up inside him.
But could he leave his team? His son? He'd have to disappear, he knew. There could be no question if he was even still alive to pull this off. It would be complicated, and he'd have to have no regrets. Never look back.
Then again, he had never looked back. Not as a teenager, being a pirate, not when he'd shook hands with Pepper and become an official mercenary in employ of the Cornerian Government. He had always plowed forward recklessly in life, but until thirteen years ago there had always been some sort of reason for it.
And as much as he told himself he came home every day, after every mission, to talk to his son and play father, it just wasn't it. His initiative had died long ago.
He stared at the wall opposite him, playing with the headphone cords. What was he saying? Turn traitor, for a wing and a prayer, a desperate hope? Abandon everything, everyone? He took the piece of paper out of his pocket and stared at the frequency listed on it, staring through it after a second. Work for a mad scientist, a terrorist, a man playing at being emperor of a star system?
I should get my affairs in order. He finally thought, hugging himself and staring into the distance, turning the volume up on his headset, eyes closing and feeling tears run. Because no matter what I do, there isn't any turning back.

Andross watched the message scroll across his screen, newly transmitted to his ship. He smiled to himself and sat back, rubbing his beard thoughtfully. So, he had been right after all. He had to agree with the message, they would have to be very very careful about how they did this. And he had just the plan to make it work…
"I just got an interesting message myself."
Andross jumped, spinning and pushing a hand out, and having to change the trajectory last minute, the telekinetic push wizzing just past O'Donnel and smashing lab equipment. "God DAMN it O'Donnel! You KNOW not to startle me like that."
Wolf looked over his shoulder at the crushed cat-scan machine, and swallowed, knowing full well that was nearly his chest. "Sorry, my emperor."
"Now that that rule has been reestablished…" Andross stood, walking over to the machine and glaring, fists on his hips. "Dammit, do you have any idea how much these cost?"
"Can't say that I do." He admitted. "The reason I came is I just got a message from, well… you know who. He wants to switch sides and says he can give us his wingmen as trade."
"That's a problem. Conflicts with plans currently in motion. However…" Andross turned to look at him, tapping his fingertips together. "Maybe we can work this to our advantage."
"… I think I understand what you mean. Should we tell his wing commander?"
"I'll take care of it. Give the go-ahead to your friend. Don't let on about anything you think he shouldn't know."
O'Donnel saluted and left, shaking off once he was out of the room. He had felt the mental push brush his arm, ruffle his sleeve. Another half an inch or less toward him, and his arm probably would have snapped under the force of it. Madman or not, Andross was a genius. And that fact, more then anything, kept O'Donnel in line.

"Well, it's official." General Pepper said, looking across his desk at James, who seemed subdued. He was used to it, James went through highs and lows, sometimes saying little, sometimes bright and hyper. "Andross is in military action, and we've got satellite images." He tossed the photos across his desk. "War factories. The President hasn't made any announcements, because he says photographs aren't enough." He stood and leaned on his desk, looking at James, who looked back, waiting. "We need your group to scout ahead for the rest of our forces. Tell us what you see, take surveilence equipment in. And if you can, take out every ground facility you see. The slower they move the better for us."
James nodded, standing. "Have you sent everything pertinent to the Great Fox?"
"Yes, I sent everything we have. James…" Pepper met his eyes. "I know how close you came to getting killed last time we dealt with Andross. Be careful on this one."
James nodded and left the office, passing a hand over his face, sighing out a breath. If only Pepper knew what was really, actually going on, knew how much of an Armada hid on the far side of Venom, waiting for Andross to say the word. If only Pepper knew just how bad it was going to be, and that James wasn't going to be there to help.
He squared his shoulders and let himself stride, blanking his mind. Keep moving forward. Forget the past. He had something he could move toward now, and that was all that really mattered.
"So?" Peppy asked, leaning on his truck next to James' aging sports sedan.
"We're in business." James accepted the bottle of water Peppy tossed to him, twisting it open automatically. "Mostly scouting, but we've got permission to destroy all we can. Usual contract crap, flat fee plus replacement of destroyed craft, and a bonus for every enemy confirmed down."
"Definitely sounds like the usual." Peppy agreed, smiling. "What do you think?"
"Not sure. I didn't see a lot of ground defenses, but we should be ready for anything."
"When do we move out?"
James sighed. "Pepper wants us moving out tonight, by the looks of how his hackles were up. When he's that edgy it's best not to delay."
"Hah, I hear you. See you tonight."
James got into his car and drove away, letting the blur of the highway erase his mind, switching to his exit automatically, pulling into the driveway without really realizing it. After a moment he turned his car off and got out, going inside and having to duck a paper airplane. "Fox!"
"That one is Bill's fault." Fox replied, leaning so he could see his father. He was sitting on the living room floor, a controller in his hands.
Bill, who was sitting on the coffee table, another plane half-folded in his hands, winced. "Sorry dude."
"Bah, just don't aim for my head next time." He threw it back. Falco snapped a hand out and caught it without looking, dropping it in Bill's lap and transferring his hand back to the controller. "I've got work tonight, Fox."
Fox paused the game and looked at him, that same stone-serious look he had had since eight, when he had figured out how risky his father's job was, how close to death his father danced on each mission. "Should I be worried?"
James shook his head. "I don't think so." I will never see you again.
Fox smiled, nodding. "Ok. I won't then." He turned back to the game, and James stood there for a blank minute, leaning his shoulder on the wall next to the door, looking at this person that was half him, his only child, remembering all their talks, realizing just how much he loved his son in the end. That wouldn't die, not even after he died. He knew that. Hell, he'd checked over his will, Fox could live comfortably here for a long time if he died. His life insurance was decent, the house was paid off, his car was paid off… everything was going to Fox.
He was going to cry.
He passed by, walking down the hallway to his room, collapsing in his chair and cupping his face in his hands, schooling his breathing, biting his lower lip to prevent the choked sob from rising. This wasn't right. He knew it. But if he didn't do this, he knew he'd let his sights slip in an upcoming fight, let himself get gunned down. Because either way he needed to be with his wife, it was greedy and terrible, but it was like his heart had been ripped out and now he could have it back, but at a horrible price.
He sat there and listened to the happy laughter of the three teenagers, Fox, Bill, and Falco, inseparable, the three musketeers of their own little world. Falco and Bill were good boys, no matter what anyone said. If he was gone, they'd keep an eye on Fox, and he knew it would eventually work out. They'd probably follow him to Star Fox, pick up the silver jackets and fight beside him. He and Fox worked similarly, had much the same causes. If he couldn't fight the war, Fox would.
James rubbed his eyes, thinking, and felt a smile. Best he didn't tell Andross this little factoid, he decided. Maybe his 'death' was not in vain after all… not that it mattered. He had to do this.
But first, dinner eh? He glanced at his watch. He even had time to properly prepare some stir fry. Make the last evening with his son an enjoyable one, at least.

"Why the hell are you always almost late to your own launches?" Pigma bitched, watching James walk onto the space cruiser.
James felt one of his fists curl, and forced his hand to relax. He knew full well what was going to happen tonight, but Pigma had no awareness of his knowledge. He'd get his chance later. "What's it matter if I'm "almost" late?" He lifted an eyebrow. "That still means I'm on time, doesn't it?"
Peppy laughed. "Well, he has you there Pigma."
Pigma scowled, and James just shook his head and walked to the bridge, giving the ROB the go-ahead to launch and reminding him to stay out of the line of fire. ROB needed no encouragement on that, he knew that they had no idea what they were going up against, and large ships could pick the small fast-attack cruiser apart with little to no trouble. But James knew that wasn't going to happen: Andross had guaranteed no harm would come to his cruiser tonight.
God I am such a back-stabbing bastard… James mourned, watching his wingmates come onto the bridge. I know Pigma's worse, but I'm so sorry Peppy. If you only knew how I really am. You'd kick my ass. And he had to smile at that thought, in spite of himself.
"We good to go?" Peppy asked, glancing at him.
"Just waiting for clearance." James dug a CD out of his pocket and dropped it into one of the computers, hitting play. "Let's do this thing."
Pigma scowled again when the grinding metal/alternative blasted the bridge, and the Great Fox lifted and launched, hitting warp the minute it was out of the atmosphere.

"We're clear." Peppy reported, pulling on his flight helmet as they entered the launch bay. "ROB did a planet scan and has the target coordinates waiting onscreen in our planes. Should be cut and dry."
"It's never cut and dry." James replied, climbing up the ladder and swinging into his fighter.
"Hey, I can hope, can't I?"
He had to laugh, buckling in and flipping the appropriate switches as his Arwing closed around him, the three planes readying for launch. "We all good?" He asked, tapping his mouthpiece.
"All green." Peppy said.
"Let's get this over with." Pigma said.
"Clear to launch." ROB intoned, and one after another they blazed into space, then cut into the thick polluted atmosphere of Venom.
James sighed, queing up more grinding alternative as he broke through the cloud layer. "Drop to deck." He said over the radio, plunging his plane nearly straight down and pulling up at the last minute, his wingmen close behind, watching as the terrain detail came up on their screens, giving distance to target.
How long are they going to give me?
James broke free from the hilly terrain and lunged straight for the very empty installation, destroying building after building, filling the air with black choking smoke. It was pretty much useless to do so, Andross had fed his government a location that had abandoned almost a month. They were doing nothing by destroying this place.
"James we have incoming." Peppy said, adjusting his mouthpiece.
There you are.
James flipped his arwing around and charged the oncoming fighters headon, gunning without aiming, exchanging a look with their wingleader as they passed. O'Donnel, the one eyed wolf, Andross' escort. He stared back, and nodded once. A millisecond of understanding. I'm with you. Then the Venomian squad broke, and it dissolved into the blur of war.
Even if they hadn't been given instructions to not shoot him down, he could have avoided their shots easily. He only shot to warn them off, Peppy was not going to die here. The smoke filled the air, and he lost himself in it, letting his hands release the controls as Pigma faded in behind him, turning to take one last look at Peppy. Goodbye.
And Pigma fired.
He heard Peppy scream in rage, suddenly understanding, as he released the eject controls, snapping into the atmosphere and diving down, back into the smoke, disguising his presence before his chute opened. Then his descent stopped so suddenly his back felt like it had broke, breath wheezing in his face mask, watching as well as he could through the smoke as Peppy fled, Pigma joining Star Wolf.
He drifted down, releasing the chute and landing easily, walking away from the burning buildings, picking the radio up off his vest and changing the frequency. "I'm on the ground." He said into it. "I'm not injured."
"We see you."
An engine rumbled, and he turned, watching the ATV pull up and the back door open. A hand was held down, and he accepted it, climbing up and waiting for the door to seal to take off his mask. "So, does he know?" He asked, accepting the water bottle from Andross.
"Pigma? Not yet." Andross replied, handing him a Venomian uniform and gesturing toward a changing curtain.
James felt a smile crawl into his eyes. "Good."

Pigma was laughing, walking across the docking bay to join Wolf. "I can't believe I actually got him! They always said he was the best, and I actually got him." He was grinning. "So, does that prove I'm good enough for you, Wolf?"
"We shall see." Wolf rumbled, crossing his arms. God, this guy makes me sick. He glanced at Leon, who only nodded once. They all knew something was about to happen, and stepped back as one. It wasn't their business. Hell, they agreed with it.
"Guys? What, do I smell?" Pigma laughed again, but more uncertain now. "Guys?" Then a finger tapped his shoulder firmly, and he turned, looking into the eyes of one he thought was dead. "Wha-wha?"
"Hi, asshole." James replied, and let his anger flow, his fist smashing forward. Pigma tumbled to the floor, staring up at him, gaping. "They indeed always said I was the best." He said darkly, stalking forward, watching his former wingman scramble backwards, sputtering. "That includes hand-to-hand combat!"
"James, I… I didn't mean…"
"Oh, don't give me that bullshit, Pigma. You meant to kill me. I wasn't able to pay you enough and to you that's a killing offence. GET UP!"
"James…"
"Get the FUCK UP!"
Pigma scrambled to his feet, bringing his hands up in a fighting stance, backing away as James began to circle, eyes burning. "James, what the hell? You're in a Venomian uniform…"
"Indeed. You forget, Pigma. I'm a mercenary too. Defend yourself. If you can."
Wolf could only watch as James sprang into action, and Pigma was helpless against the onslaught. James knew several forms of martial arts, including the types taught to soldiers, and applied most of it here. In two blows, blood had splattered from the corner of Pigma's mouth. In two more, he was on the ground, nearly crying because his left elbow was shattered. In two more, he was unconscious, blood pooling around him, James standing above him shuddering, breaths still coming fast.
"Holy mother of God." Andrew said numbly.
"Yummy. He's definitely well trained." Leon was tapping a dagger on his chin thoughtfully, staring at James. "God, and no remorse at all."
Then in a sudden move, James wheeled to stare at them, fists still curled, and they all stepped back again, that glowing rage hitting them like a solar flare. "You are next if you ever, ever decide to try and fuck with me." James said in a snarl. "That goes for all three of you. GET ME?"
"Shit man. Chill. You're with us." Wolf blurted out.
"You fuckin' wish." Then James was gone from the docking bay.
Wolf looked in the direction of Andross, who was standing next to the shuttle they had come in on, watching this with crossed arms. Andross had a twisted grin on his face, shaking his head as he walked around Pigma's body toward them. "Make sure he gets to a medical bay fairly quickly." Andross said simply. "We will need him during the war." When Wolf nodded, Andross left.