Wolf wasn't surprised when James showed up in the gym later, ears under headphones as usual, nodding along to a quick beat. He watched as the older man crossed to a weapons rack, picking up a coiled chain and moving to the center of the fighting area, tapping his foot. Seemingly cued by the music, he began to move, the chain swirling around him, a dance of death, clashing through the air like a whip.
All other action had ceased in the gym except for a few single-minded types, the others finding the beat and clapping with it. It didn't matter he was Star Fox's commander, that he was the best. He was accepted. Wolf shook his head in amazement, watching the much older man move smoothly. Feeling another presence beside him, he glanced at Marisa, who was dressed to do her exercise on a treadmill. Her jaw was slack, eyes wide as she watched James discard the chain and move to a sword, song change apparently.
"Oh my god." She finally said.
"He's good." Wolf said mildly.
"I knew he was a good soldier, but how can he move like that?"
"Training. Lots of it."
James had his eyes closed, absorbed, flinging the sword to Wolf without looking. Several of the soldiers gasped as Wolf blade-caught it inches from his chest. Wolf shook his head, watching James pick up another sword and strike a ready pose, beckoning, eyes barely open. "This is getting to be a habit." He remarked, stepping onto the floor, voice loud to be heard over the headset.
"You're probably the only one good enough."
"Arrogant ass."
James laughed. "But you didn't argue."
"Right. Let's go." Wolf lunged, and their blades met, the younger man not surprised when the beat came through again. This time he didn't bother to break it, it was more pleasurable to work with it. How often did you meet a master? How often could you spar with one with no fear? He wasn't surprised that James had his eyes closed, opening them only occasionally, or that the older man was smiling, just a little. He was a soldier because he couldn't be anything else.
"Hand to hand?" James asked without breaking their fight.
"Go."
Both threw their swords, one landing in the rack the other landing solidly in a weightbench pad and sticking, backing off and going into their respective stances. No one laughed when James settled for crane stance. There was a long pause, then James attacked first this time, letting himself be parried, settling into the groove again… or until Wolf got a hit and hit James' lower left ribcage.
The fight broke, James staggering away holding one side of his chest, leaning on his knees and gasping as fire licked through him. Wolf yanked out one of his earpieces and started talking to him, it made no sense to James, confused gibberish, and he wove mindlessly with one hand to shut the younger man up as pain saturated his brain. He dropped fully to his knees in a drunken daze, trying to shake it off. It was several minutes before he found sanity again, taking out the other earpiece and looking up at Wolf with a shaky cough.
"What the fuck was that?" Wolf asked bluntly, crouching next to him. "Looked like you were holding your heart."
"Not exactly. Old, old wound. Four shattered ribs. Bone shards in lung… I don't have any bone there anymore."
"Shit."
James pulled up the shirt, showing Wolf the irregularity on his chest. "Rack and pins. Metal. Not exactly resilient to strikes."
"Sorry man."
"You didn't know." He looked up when a shadow passed over him, and was promptly horrified when he saw Marisa. Just what he needed, her knowing his Achilles heel, his one major weak point on a body he worked on endlessly to be strong, to be resilient. "Um…"
"No bone?" She pulled up the shirt the rest of the way to look at the spot, trying to ignore the sculpted muscle around it. He wasn't over muscled, he was just gorgeous, and she almost hit herself for thinking that.
"Love of god woman, are you trying to send him into cardiac arrest?" Wolf asked in amusement as she pushed him down, looking at the mark curiously.
"Now why would that happen?"
"Help…" James looked at Wolf, jittering under her hands.
Wolf laughed, pulling Marisa up. "God girl, leave him be."
"Hey! It's interesting!" She said defensively. She had been able to feel the screws and pins under his fur, narrow artificial ribs. It had felt good, her hands on him for any reason, and she shook off.
James, meanwhile, had rolled away awkwardly, pulling his shirt back down. "I've got torture scars on my back too, but I don't see you pinning me to look at those." He grumbled, staggering to his feet, glad he had been able to control his body. That would have been embarrassing.
"Maybe I should." She stuck out her tongue, and was shocked when he bolted from the room. "What the hell is with him?" She asked, looking at Wolf.
He spread his hands. "You ask me like I know."
James leaned in the elevator, covering the old wound with his hand, breathing hard. He could still feel her fingers rubbing over it curiously, he had wanted to gasp and arch into the touch, not wondering about why she'd be curious about an old war wound. The same electricity he had felt years ago with Vixy, but somehow stronger now, maybe from his simple desperation. He managed not to moan, the technician in the elevator with him was already staring at him. He managed a weak smile, staggering out when the elevator stopped, going to the room he was using.
He stripped and staggered into the shower, leaning his forearms on the wall under the showerhead and letting the water pound his back into oblivion. He sighed, letting his eyes close again, and let a smile slip as he remembered the extended sparring session. Damn, that O'Donnel kid was good. He had been worried for a split second his sword throw was going to skewer the younger man, but he had caught it, and their fight had been pretty exhilarating.
Too bad he hadn't met Wolf before Andross. He would have fricking adopted the kid, legally an adult or not. Wouldn't that have made Fox's day? He laughed, leaning his forehead on his arms, imagining it. Just what he needed, two military gung-ho teenage sons! One was probably quite enough…
Then his mind turned to what had happened before he had fled, Marisa beside him, hand on his chest curiously, inches beneath his pecs, and he shuddered rawly. This was torture, no other real word for it. To love her, love her so much…
Love her?
He blinked as water dripped in his eyes. Love her? Just her? Not desperate carry-over from his wife, just her, just this tomboy who played poker, who teased him and touched him and made him insane, who hadn't even known him what, two days? Three maybe? He laughed weakly, shaking his head, he was so easy, to fall for her like that. He hadn't stood a chance. Those eyes…
How much longer would he be able to play at this? He sighed again, rubbing the damning wound on his chest. He loved her. Now was the gambling part. Would she love him? This aging battered soldier, so much older then her? Who knows, he thought, letting out a ragged breath. In the mean time, he'd be tortured, daily, hourly. He'd deal with it.
Please, let her love me…
It was almost an hour later when a knock sounded at his door. He lifted his head to look at it, sprawled on the bed in jeans and nothing else, and sat up, keying the door unlocked with the remote absently. "It's open."
The door opened, and Wolf stood there, in full flight uniform, eyes full of an odd raw ache—fear? "Just thought you might want to know… we're going to war, now. Andross is going to make a speech over the intercom in a few minutes."
James stared at him blankly for a full five seconds before that sank in.
"Look at them, guys." Pigma said in a pleased voice, gesturing out the window at the fleet, which was spreading out in formation in front of the command cruiser. They were on the observation deck. Exactly one level above them, Andross was on the command deck, his voice still echoing over the intercom and radio. "He's not a bad public speaker for a scientist."
"He knows what people like to hear." Leon said mildly, not at all moved by the view of the fleet—he knew better.
Wolf said nothing, looking down at his rank badges. James hadn't said anything at first, going over to where his uniform jacket and fishing in one of the pockets, then stepping over and pinning another badge in line with the rest, casual, like it belonged there. Then those piercing blue eyes had focused on his one, and he had said, "Watch yourself." That had been it, and he had been out of the room and down the hall before he had stopped to take a good long look at what was pinned to him.
He wasn't familiar with every last badge in the Cornerian military, but he knew this one. It was the badge version of the Metal of Courage, one of the very few highest honors dealt within the military, on equal level with the Metal of Honor. James had given him his badge. When had James earned the Metal of Courage? What had he done for it?
And why had the older man given him the badge, which obviously meant so much, represented so much sacrifice?
"We can't lose." Pigma said, voice confident, arrogant. Wolf fought the urge to punch violently sideways and break his cheekbone. "Not with this fleet."
"Thanks, you jinxed us now." Andrew grumbled.
"I don't believe in that sort of thing." He looked at Wolf. "I understand we're being transferred between ships by the end of the day."
"Yeah, some fast attack cruiser, I forget the name." He replied in a distant voice, popping the knuckles of one hand absently, staring out the window blankly. No more sparring with James, he guessed. "The Great Fox of our side."
"Don't say that name." Pigma shuddered. "I hate that ship."
"What's happening to your arwing, now that you have a wolfen?" He glanced sideways, popping the knuckles on his other hand.
"It got transferred planetside already, the hanger base or something." Pigma shrugged, clearly not caring what happened to his old plane.
"Well, isn't that a sight."
All four jumped and looked at James over their shoulders, who walked in like he owned the place, moving up even with them and looking out at the fleet, hands on his hips. He huffed, shaking his head. "A terrible beauty is born." He said softly, voice even, but clearly forced.
"I get sick of people speaking in riddles." Andrew said quite plainly. "Nice quote, but what do you mean?"
"That." He pointed out the window. "That force. It's your victory… it's the destruction of Corneria City. The death of millions. The fall of democracy." He turned to look at Andrew. "A terrible beauty. Don't you agree?"
"Sappy bastard." Pigma grunted, and choked when James merely looked at him.
"Good luck. You'll need it." He ended mildly, and left the observation deck, clearly going up to the command deck.
"He's creepy." Andrew shook off.
"Yeah. Among other things." Wolf said, watching James go, almost sad.
James stuck his hand on the command deck, giving Andross a wave with two fingers to catch the scientist's eye. Andross nodded just barely, finishing his speech a few minutes later and waving the pilot forward. "You're not supposed to be on the command deck, McCloud. What do you want?" Andross asked, hands on his hips.
"What happens to me now?"
"You stay here. This cruiser isn't going into combat."
"You're staying here as well I take it?"
"Indeed. If we need to we'll just move behind Venom. The Cornerian forces can't track us there." He shrugged. "I've made certain of that." There was a pause, Andross sizing the not-much-younger soldier up absently. He looked good in the uniform, but he figured James could probably make rags look stylish if he tried. "So, how bad are Cornerian military doctors, hmm? Marisa told me you're short several ribs on the left. Not even good pins!"
James winced noticeably. "Did she now?"
"Stop by my lab later, I'll fix you up."
"You'll forgive me if I decline."
"No I really won't. Be there after you eat dinner. Or I'll send some guards to find you."
James glared, and Andross glared back, the two locked in a silent stare down. The rest of the personnel on the command deck got uncomfortable. Andross was unquestioned in his force, for James to try to brush his demand away was unthinkable. James eventually just huffed and turned, walking away without saying a word.
"Upstuck little shit." Andross said out loud, shaking his head.
"Sir… is he always like that? So insubordinate?"
He turned to look at the woman addressing him, who was working her fingers in front of her nervously. "Yes, Anna. Ever since I met him… about nineteen years ago…" He smoothed a hand down her hair as he sat, and she tucked her knees up to her chest, wings folding back. His personal bodyguard, rarely seen away from the command deck, rarely seen at all really. No one asked about her background—they all knew already.
James slid down the side of the elevator, staring into space. For the first time since this had started, he was suddenly nervous. Andross wanted him to come to the lab, saying, quite specifically, 'I'll fix you up.' That was a terrifying prospect, because Andross could mean his ribs… or he could means something else entirely. He jittered, remembering the lab he had helped storm years ago, the claws almost hitting him, the creatures, some dead, some dying, almost all based on what had once been people…
"James?"
He jumped, finding himself suddenly staring into Marisa's eyes. "You have a talent for catching me in off moments." He said sourly, basking in the soft orange scent of her shampoo.
"How long have you been sitting in an idle elevator?" She asked gently, crouching in front of him, looking at his haunted, troubled eyes, the look deep down unchanged from when she had first met him.
He looked at his watch, and blinked. "A whole hell of a lot longer then I expected to be." He looked back up, nose to nose with her, and subconsciously curled his watch hand into a fist as he felt that charge rise between them. She blinked and jerked back, surprised, and he sighed, tilting his head back. "I guess I should explain why I'm sitting here?"
"If you want. I'm going to hydroponics. We could talk there." She finally said, stunned her voice was clear, fighting the urge to rub her nose. What the hell had that been? Some sort of massive static charge? It was rather dry on the cruiser as of late…
"Sure."
She reached behind herself and hit the level button, sitting down across from him for the ride, which was spent in silence, her staring at him, him with his head still tilted back against the wall, eyes closed. When the elevator stopped, he stood abruptly, so fast she barely caught the flex of his muscles, and held a hand down to her. She took it, and they walked into hydroponics together, her trying not to read anything into this whole ordeal. James was an odd man, best to write it off to that.
"So why were you sitting in the elevator?" She asked, getting out plant food absently.
"Long story." He willingly slung a bag of soil over his shoulder, following her down the aisle, managing not to feel shame as he watched her tail swing. "Your friend Andross scared me, basically."
She stopped, looking at him. "Scared you?"
"Yeah, why?"
She stared. "Something scaring you… It just seems like nothing would you scare you, James."
He laughed out loud. "My dear, you would be surprised."
"Apparently. Well, what did he do? Playing Emperor or not, he seems harmless to me. Always has." She gestured for him to set the soil down, mixing plant food with water automatically.
"It's about my ribs. He said he wants to fix me up, quoting him." He shifted uneasily. "And as that would require opening me up, I'm a little uneasy about it. But he's not giving me a choice."
"But that's wonderful! It seems like it really hurts you, even just to touch."
"Yeah, but… I don't trust him. I've seen some of the other things he's done."
"Like?" She glanced at him curiously as she fed the plants.
He mentally kicked himself. "Better if you asked him."
"Oh, all right."
Silence reigned for almost an hour, working together with the plants. Marisa settled into it so easily it alarmed her, James was easy to work with, their hands brushing randomly as they worked together, at one point his tail brushing down one of her calves, almost making her gasp. What was it about him, she wondered, that put her so on edge? She shook off absently, blurting a question to break the silence.
"Uh, Andross remarked you have a kid?"
He startled, looking up from what he was doing. "Oh, yeah, yeah I do. A son."
She rubbed the back of her neck, looking away, suddenly feeling painfully awkward. "Sorry… just curiosity I guess."
"Hell, it's not a bad question." He leaned back against a row of plants, brushing off his hands. "Here, look." He took his wallet out of his back pocket and took off the top photo, which was the most recent one, handing it to her. "That's him. Picture is about a year old, but he hates cameras. It's a nightmare getting a good picture of him."
She took the wallet photo and stared. It was a candid cut down, the younger boy turning to face the camera and actually smiling a bit. He looked a lot like James, but softer somehow, she dared to say prettier but that wasn't it either. It was the eyes, he didn't have James' sharp eyes. The boy in the photo was in his late teens, wearing a tank top and jean shorts from what she could tell, lightly cut musculature, military dogtags in evidence. The smile was smug, what Andross probably would have called a 'shit eating grin' even if it was more subtle. "God, he's a cute kid." She heard herself say, passing the picture back.
"Thanks." James smiled, tucking it back in his wallet. "He's a double-handful. I had a hell of a time keeping him in line."
"Had? Did he…"
"No, no, he's still alive and well. He's on Corneria."
She blinked, then her face changed. "Oh god, not in Corneria City…"
"Yes. The city Andross is going to bomb into oblivion." He said grimly. "But don't worry about it. Fox won't be there when it happens, or his friends. They're bright kids, and scrappers at that." He huffed, shoving the wallet back in his pocket. "I'm sorry, it's just really easy to get wound up about what's going to happen."
"It's all right. It used to be your home. I can understand." She sighed. "I don't really have a home. I don't remember one. Just this ship."
James looked at her, and felt his heart ache, wanting to give her a home, but knowing that was really beyond his power. "I'm sorry." He finally said again, backing up a step before he held her, before he kissed her.
"What's wrong?"
"Oh, nothing, it's just… never mind." He wove it away as best he could, looking away from her, trying to brush his hands off again. She stepped up to him after a moment, turning his face toward her, and there was a frozen moment as his heart thundered, looking down at her. "Don't…" He managed to say weakly.
"Don't what?" She asked, frowning, fingers still lingering on his muzzle. She shivered when his hand came up, brushing fingertips lightly along her cheekbone, trailing in her hair, leaving tingling lines. "James…" It barely left her lips, eyes fluttering closed as he drew her into a careful chaste hug, resting his jaw on her shoulder, closing his eyes as his arms settled into the small of her back. She curled her hands around his ribs carefully, returning the hug, sighing.
Marisa tucked her face into his chest, just under his collar bone, turning her head and listening to his heart pound. It was a strong, solid beat, a booming base drum, and it was comforting, lulling. He shivered under her touch, finally nuzzling her neck softly, trying so hard to control himself, to not let his impulses run away with him.
"James?" She finally asked faintly after a few moments, leaning her weight into him absently.
"You make me wish I was young again." He finally whispered, choking back a sob of pure need. "You are so beautiful."
She tried to look him in the eyes, but wasn't able to, the position negated it. "You aren't that old." She finally said.
"Too old for you." He admitted out loud, sighing.
"That's opinion. This feels too, too right."
"This is going too fast."
She blinked, thinking about that. "Yeah, probably."
"You don't care?"
"Not right now."
He let out a sigh, but a different one, and tightened his grip ever-so-slightly. She turned her head so her face leaned against his neck, and they stood like that for a few minutes in a silent union.
"James McCloud, report to the lab please." The voice on the intercom was unnaturally loud in the quiet of the hydroponics room, and both startled at the sound of Andross' voice.
"Bloody bastard is early." James rumbled, looking at his watch over one of her shoulders. "I was supposed to meet him after dinner."
"Maybe something came up."
"Or maybe he's got cameras on us." He let her go reluctantly, pressing a timid kiss to her forehead. "Listen, thank you. I really needed that."
"No. My pleasure." She heard herself say, and watched him leave, his walk different, almost lighter in a way, and hugged herself, silent in her confusion.