The large apartment was furnished in such a way that Fox found himself suddenly realizing how good he had it here in Lylat.

For starters, it overlooked a pristine bay patrolled by no ships except a couple gunboats from the Cornerian Navy. The apartment building, which really was more like a big house suited specifically for Fox and his needs, was situated on a hillside that was conspicuously devoid of any kind of life except Fox and the hidden soldiers Peppy had posted to keep the media out of the area. Surrounded by green trees and wild flowers, with only a single road leading up to it, the pilot wondered for a brief moment if they had thrown the place together just for this occasion. The thought of a giant pre-fabricated house springing up on demand made Fox chuckle, and he found that the sound was foreign to him.

He stood on the front porch, craning his neck up to get a good look at the place, and he only confirmed his earlier suspicions that this was somehow tailor made for him. It was constructed in a retro style of architecture that had been popular during Fox's time, for one thing. For another, it was set in this particularly beautiful and convenient location, near enough to civilization that he could be fetched on demand, but far enough away that he didn't need to worry about anyone but himself. Fox had no doubt that this was likely one of the summer homes he had purchased after the Lylat Wars and just left to rust. But somebody had kept it up beautifully. The walls were freshly painted, the door didn't squeak when he opened it, and the lawn was free of weeds.

Fox turned back to the limo driver who had brought him here and waved him off. The old canine nodded sagely and pulled out, heading back to Corneria City in the distance.

Then he stepped inside.

It was everything a dream home could be: spacious, clean, brightly lit, and that new house smell that Fox knew he had missed the most out of everything else. The living room had an extra large television. The kitchen had an island and a refrigerator with everything in it, including that ridiculously alcoholic garbage he had drunk with Falco. It had a completed basement with yet another television and an old game system. It was completed with a giant couch and a mini-bar and all the kinds of things Fox would have enjoyed when he was still fresh off his victory over Andross. Fox suddenly realized that he was looking at a little picture from his past.

This place was somewhere he would have wanted to live. To enjoy the rest of his life in. It was a dream from the good old days. Staring at the lonely video game console, Fox leaned on the wall, dropped his bag, and imagined himself sitting on the couch, fifteen years younger. Slippy and Falco were there too, and they were laughing, not a care in the world, while Peppy looked on from the mini-bar, shaking his head as he went over their finances. X-Racers. They'd definitely be playing X-Racers. Falco and Fox would compete for the high score while Slippy fumbled with the controls. Then they'd eat something ordered out and reminisce over stories, recounting the final battle in the bowels of Venom.

Fox smiled.

It was a heavenly image. No families to worry about, no war to threaten, always some pirate band to go stomp on for extra cash, and the thrill of being a hero was still fresh in his mind. No crowds always hammering at his door, begging just to see him. There were just him and his friends and the confines of the Great Fox. Those eight years after Andross had been the best of his life.

Then it had all started coming apart. Fox quickly tore himself away from the visions and memories before they could overwhelm him again, but the contrast was too great to ignore. This was a place a different Fox belonged to, from a different time. The Fox standing in this dream home now couldn't see how he was going to just laze around and play video games until his thumbs were raw, or go swimming in the bay, showing off his toned body to all the ogling females. He couldn't see how he was going to have fun sleeping on a huge bed by himself, when there should have been someone else sharing it. He couldn't make himself jump in the sleek car waiting in the garage and go speeding down the highway.

Deep down, he knew none of it would make him happy or fulfill him. He knew what he was really missing, and he'd never get it back. There was an itch deep inside, a scratching, gnawing impulse that made him want to get out and move and do something, when all he could do was thrash around in this little slice of paradise.

So, Fox did what many people do in his situation. He decided to do all of that stuff anyway and see how it went.

But first came the shower. As he thought it would, the shower was state of the art, with all kinds of options included. There was a jacuzzi in one corner of the bathroom, which he ignored. He didn't want to relax, he just wanted to get clean. He chose the most mundane fountain option and just let the water run over his fur. He made it a little colder than usual, wanting to stay awake. It felt wonderful. It was then Fox noticed the mirror on the inside of the shower. For the first time in weeks, he actually saw himself. Dirty, tired, somewhat red-eyed from lack of sleep, and now sopping wet.

"I really do look terrible," he said, and decided to correct that. The shampoo was some sort of clinically approved junk, so he tossed it only liberally, and had fun making mustaches and beards out of the foam, smirking at himself in the mirror. Soap beards were such a childish thing to do, but it felt great to do it, because he knew nobody was watching. He stepped out of the shower in nothing but a towel and went to stand on the balcony overlooking the bay, leaning on the railing, letting the wind rustle his fur dry. He loved the feel of being clean. It, like soap beards, was such a simple, homey thing to enjoy. A lot of people took being clean for granted.

Fox remembered the days spent on Sauria, where the only way to keep himself clean was to jump into a spring or a river and scrub vigorously. Otherwise, he was hacking his way through foliage, tramping through mud, facing freezing rain on top of Krazoa Palace, getting guts and blood all over him from the Sharpclaws he had bested, pushing through punishing snow storms and searing volcanoes, getting his fur singed or frozen off from traps. Oh, and avoiding Tricky's barf when he had eaten too many grubtub mushrooms.

What a zany adventure that had been. In a way, getting down and dirty had its merits as well. There was just something that had spoken to his deepest instincts when he had been on that planet. It really was a place where magic, or at least an energy as close to magic as one could get, still existed. A place where he had gotten in touch with something primal with nothing but a stick and a little sidekick as his allies, facing off with a wild place of terrible monsters and evil generals. An honest adventure, like the first war with Andross.

Fox tried not to remember that was the first time he had met Krystal. He had really written his own fairy tale down there, a primitive knight in shining armor rescuing the damsel in distress. The way they had looked at each other when the prison finally broke, and he was pulling her up from certain death...

No, Fox, he told himself. No more remembering. Stop there, don't go farther. It just gets painful after that.

He liked the quietness of this place the most. Peppy had probably gone to extra lengths to lock it all down. No matter where Fox looked, his old instincts would tell him there was some hidden camera in the bushes, watching for intruders. Glints in the sky spoke of constant patrols, and every so often Fox would catch a glimpse of some unknown military vehicle in the distance. But he didn't feel imprisoned, because he knew Peppy. The old goat was just overreacting as usual. Fox appreciated it nonetheless.

First of all, he enjoyed the quiet in the bay. Down by the shore, a motorboat had been stashed away in a little covered dock. Right next to it was parked a big yacht, the kind he remembered movie celebrities used whenever they wanted to "get away from it all" in absolute splendor.

Fox stopped short when he saw it, crossed his arms, and shook his head.

"I really am a celebrity," he said to himself. He turned away from the yacht and went back into the covered dock. He found an old rowboat hanging on the wall, complete with oars. As if to defy the fact that he was supposed to be popular and famous and take the biggest, most expensive things, Fox decided to take the rowboat out for a spin.

"Just for the hell of it," he told himself as he pried it off the wall and dumped it into the water. He paused, suddenly, then actually took the time to run back up to the house and grab a fishing pole, then ran back down. He collected a wide hat and began rowing, simply loving the feel of exerting his muscles like this. The water was calm and the wind wasn't too bad. The patrol boats kept their distance. Just a fox and his boat and some fish to catch. He liked the evocative image of himself casting off into the water.

About half an hour in, he remembered why he had never liked fishing. It was probably the most mind-numbingly boring thing in the entire system to do!

Fox got out the motorboat after realizing that.

--

Four days passed where Fox was unmolested. Peppy and Falco didn't visit, neither did the paparazzi. Fox would have shot them if they came by.

But those four days were wonderful, even if they hadn't made Fox want to live life to the fullest again. He had gotten to relax, to do whatever he wanted to do and not have anyone tell him otherwise. No call to arms. No rush down to the starport and getting the Great Fox ready for take-off. Just some simple living. Well, simple insofar as he didn't do anything important. This was about as lavish as he would allow himself. It wasn't a bad way to retire, really, once Peppy had forced him through whatever he needed to do.

But soon, it came to an end. Fox saw the little convoy approaching from afar and went inside to get ready. Peppy was coming as a general. Tired as Fox was, he wanted to greet him with at least a little bit of dignity. Peppy deserved that. He'd see Fox as he used to be.

He got out his old flight suit with the green pants and white shirt which somehow still fit him. He had thrown them into the wash and neatly laid them out on a chair in his bedroom, and now they were fitted over his broad chest and healthy shoulders. Even after all he'd been through, he still cleaned up nicely.

Peppy found him standing in the hall in front of the door the moment he came in.

"Fox," he said quietly, closing the door behind him and leaving his entourage behind.

"Let's talk."

--

"You know about Dash Bowman and his election to Prime Minister of Venom. Well, Fox, after the Anglar war a few years back, Dash set about trying to rebuild his home planet, make it a place people would want to visit. His goal was a complete transformation of the entire planet... and he's very nearly accomplished it. Venom's ecosystem is better than it ever was under Andross. Dash has ousted or executed the military radicals who want to return to imperial ambition. He started rebuilding the environment. Toxicity has returned to tolerable levels, importation of plants and animals is going well. People who live there are thinking that their lives can be normal again. Things are changing all over the planet, and people love Dash for it."

"What's this got to do with me?" Fox replied shortly. The two of them were walking along a forest path that led down the hill to the bay, behind the house. Peppy, in his impeccable red uniform made famous by Pepper, seemed entirely out of place. His fur was almost completely white, his wrinkles obvious all over his face, and his fighting spirit replaced by stoic discipline. He was the new old General, and Fox was irked by that.

"The thing is, Fox, he's caught wind of your return. All of Lylat has. And he wants to see you."

Fox stopped dead short.

"See me?" he asked in a low voice. "See me, does he? What for? To thank him for giving him everything? When I could have just shot the bastard the moment I saw him? I was nice enough when I let him fight with us. When I told him that he had to do what he had to do."

He leaned closer to Peppy, who remained unintimidated.

"You hear me, Peppy? I was nice to him once already. I put him where he is. I'm the one who let Lylat have all that it does. And I'm the one who lost everything in the process. I am not obligated to go and shake his hand and cut a giant ribbon or whatever the hell he wants me to do."

"I know, Fox," Peppy said levelly. "But there's more to it than just being nice. As Falco told you, I headed a re-organization of the defense forces in this system. They're now under the single banner of the Systems Corps, and I head it all. The Cornerian Alliance has every planet under its reach... except Venom. Dash wants to be part of it. Venom is doing well, but it'll never get off the ground without our support. And people have hope for the future now, Fox! They want to see Venom restored to the Lylat system."

"Do you want it back?" Fox asked, not hiding the accusation. Peppy straightened up and breathed deep.

"Off the record... no," he said in a quiet, bitter voice. "Frankly I don't care about Venom. I wouldn't care if it suddenly vanished into thin air, long as nobody died with it. Too many memories."

"Too many memories," Fox agreed.

"But I do care about Lylat. I care about seeing it happy and prosperous again, like it was when your father was still alive. And if this is what it takes, I'm going to see it through."

He led Fox to a clearing and pointed up at the sky.

"The Orbital Gate has been renamed Alliance Station. It's had a lot added to it, and it's now the symbol of Lylat's new unity. It's there we're going to meet Dash and see Venom given a place in the Cornerian Alliance. Everyone's going to be there, Fox. You have to show up."

"Have to? Strong language. I thought I made it clear I didn't have to do anything," Fox said, feeling his temper spike. Peppy sighed heavily and let his shoulders droop.

"I didn't mean it like that, Fox. I'm saying that if you do show up, it'll go all the smoother. People will love it all the more. It'll let them know their hope is real and validated, that their legend... their hero... is willing to help send them off into the future."

Fox shook his head and went off a ways, back to the path.

"If I'm the one who laid the path to the future, Peppy... why do I feel as old as you look?"

Peppy willed himself not to take offense to that.

"It's war, Fox," he answered, and Fox nodded his head in assent. That was the right answer.

"It's war," Peppy repeated. "It does that to you. When you fight, you feel like it's the only thing keeping you together, even when it pushes you to the brink. It consumes you... becomes your life, no matter how short or long it is. Changes you. Makes you think about the world in a different way. You and I, Falco, Slippy... we grew up with the people we'll be seeing on Alliance Station, Fox. But we'll always be a world apart because of what we went through."

He stepped up behind Fox and put a hand on his shoulder.

"I know what you're thinking, Fox. They'll never understand. They'll never be able to really know what they're asking of you. When..."

Peppy felt his eyes suddenly moisten.

"When your father... when he passed away, I felt lost. When I... when I picked you up and held you that night, I wondered what I was going to do, and realized I didn't have the damndest idea. Not the faintest clue. But you know something, Fox? We pulled through anyway. You became someone people wanted to fight for. You showed the strength that I should have had. You made Star Fox. You blasted Andross into oblivion twice. I saw you grow, Fox, during those days. I saw the strength your father gave you. You were fighting for him, Fox. Don't deny it. You were fighting for his memory and his dreams. That included giving Lylat peace."

He moved around to Fox's front and faced him. Fox had tears streaming down his cheeks, even though he didn't say anything, or move, or blink.

"Tell me I'm wrong."

Fox didn't have an answer. His fists shook as he looked for a way to deny it, to say that he wasn't a hero, not a fighter, just some damn fool who jumped in a ship and was good at shooting in the right direction. But Peppy's expression brooked no argument.

"I don't know what you want to fight for now," Peppy said gently. "I think I know what James would say. But only you know for sure. So think for yourself, Fox. That's all I want you to do. Remember what you fought for, and decide if it's still worth it. If you really want your legend... James' legacy... to just fade away."

And Peppy left him.

--

"Do you think he'll do it?" Falco asked as Peppy returned to the convoy. The hare stood still and looked back to the woods.

"He'll do what he thinks he has to do. Nothing else matters."