Chapter 4: A Friend in Need

Two days passed after Krystal left, and Fox and Marcus were alone together. Their time was mostly spent coloring and taking trips to Thorntail Memorial Park. The McClouds spent their third evening alone sitting in silence in front of Krystal's staff, waiting for her to telepathically contact them. There was only silence. "Mommy really loves us, buddy," Fox firmly reminded his son, "even though she's doing some very hard and important work. It's going to be alright." Holding each other until the sun went down, Fox and Marcus watched some Arrow Racers episodes saved on audiovisual storage discs. When Fox was momentarily worn out from playing with his son the next day, Marcus walked out on the balcony and gazed at the sky. After returning home from the park that afternoon, Marcus dragged Fox past the apartment building and out to the landing pad to wait for his mother's return.

Their fourth night alone was plagued by nightmares. Fox imagined he was crossing swords with Adolfo on Corneria, just as he had five years ago, but things were different now. Fox realized his movements were smooth and unimpeded. He went on the offensive to take advantage of the nanomachines' lack of control over his body. However, Adolfo still outpaced him. Fox lunged at Adolfo again and again, but each thrust was deflected. Amidst the clash of blades, Fox heard his son's cries, and saw that Adolfo was holding the kit by the scruff of his neck in his free hand. "Give him back," Fox screamed at the top of his lungs.

"You are unworthy," Adolfo spoke with the voice of James McCloud, "what could a cripple like you possibly offer him? Your sickness? Your early grave? Your broken mind?" Fox's guard was shattered with a vicious counter strike. As Adolfo made to run him through, Fox's eyes burst open.

Meanwhile, Marcus saw his mother climb into her starfighter and blast off down a G-Zero racecourse. The laps dragged on and on until his mother's craft became lost in the press of vehicles. "Mommy," the boy cried, "Mommy!" His voice disappeared amidst the roar of the crowd and the engines, and his mother did not use her abilities to respond. The scene faded to black, and a vicious chill filled the air, suffusing the tyke's bones. At that moment, Marcus wailed in despair.

Both woke up in shock. Despite his harsh panting, Fox registered Marcus' cries of dread. He hauled himself to his feet despite the effects of his sleeping aids and carried Marcus in his arms until they both calmed down. Fox struggled to beat back his own tears, knowing his son was looking to him for comfort even as he looked to Marcus for the same. "Marcus," Fox desperately soothed his offspring in the soft glow of the nightstand lamp, "it'll be alright. It'll be okay. I've got you."

"Buh…" the boy whimpered, "I wan' mommy…"

"I know. I want mommy too," Fox swallowed a lump in his throat, "but we have to wait for her to come home."

"When?"

"I don't know, buddy," Fox sadly confessed, "She will come home, I promise. Let's get you back to bed." Marcus gripped his father tightly, and Fox wondered what was amiss.

"Don' go daddy… s'day."

"I'll be here all night. I'll be sleeping in my bed." When Fox moved back to Marcus' bed and began to tuck him in, the child squirmed against him.

"What do you want now," Fox wearily wondered, "buddy?"

"I wan' daddy bed."

"You want to sleep in my bed? With me?"

"Uh-huh." Krystal had allowed Marcus to sleep wtih her and Fox when the boy was having a difficult night.

"Only mommy sleeps with daddy," Fox informed his son, "You aren't mommy. If you want, I'll stay right next to you while you sleep in your bed." Marcus nodded his approval and Fox spread out on the floor next to where his son lay. He placed his hand on the boy's shoulder.

"Stowy, daddy?" Marcus hoped his father could weave a tale with images projected into his mind, just like his mother.

Shoot! Fox silently panicked, I don't know anything that would be alright for him! How the hell can I tell him about all the crap I went through? Hang on… maybe… Fox realized he could spin a tale from his first trip to Sauria, and how he met Krystal. Nonetheless, he would have to omit and alter a few details. "Okay, buddy," Fox smiled, "I've got a story for you, but I don't have any pictures."

"Why no pi'cher?" Marcus wondered.

"I can't draw them for you." Fox cleared his throat.

"One day," Fox began the tale, "a brave, strong hero was sent on a quest with two of his friends. There was a distant city in danger, and they had to save it. It was a long journey, and the mag-train was very old and beat up. "The hero arrived at the city with his friends, but the people there didn't look like people they knew, and the hero and his friends couldn't understand anything the city's people said. One of the hero's friends was very smart, and he used a computer to understand the city's people. "One of the city's leaders decided to talk to the hero and walked up to the hero and his friends." Fox put on a deep falsetto, "'Our city is going to be destroyed by a wall of water,' the leader said, 'you need to stop it!'" Fox inflated his cheeks and plugged his nose to simulate being submerged, "Bloob blub."

Marcus giggled softly in response as Fox continued the story. "The hero was confused," Fox explained in his normal voice, "'How can I stop that?' the hero asked. "The leader's son approached, saying 'I can help! I can help!'" Fox shifted his voice into a higher pitch as he adopted the role of Tricky's proxy.

Fox carried on with the bedtime story, and the leader's son led the hero to the city's four gates, closing them one at a time before heading back to the city center. "When they got there," Fox explained, "they found a very beautiful girl. The hero fell in love on the spot, but he could not tell her he loved her because she could not hear him."

"Why dah gill no heaw?" Marcus wondered as he began to fade.

"The beautiful girl was very sick," Fox explained, making a fist beside his face, "The city's people tried to keep her safe by keeping her in a magic bubble where she couldn't see or hear or feel anything outside. They thought she would get even more sick if she left the bubble, but she wasn't getting better in the bubble either. She was actually getting sicker."

"Wuh dah city people bad?" Marcus wondered, defying the pull of gravity on his eyelids, "Wah dah hewo hel'ing b'ah people?"

"The city people," Fox explained, "were scared and confused. The beautiful girl wasn't from their city, and they didn't know what to do with her."

"Dey bubbled huw?"

"Yeah," Fox sighed, "but when the water came, the gates the hero closed kept the city dry. The bubble popped." He made a popping sound with his mouth and let his hand fly open. "The beautiful girl fell out of the bubble," he continued, "and when she touched the ground, the water went away. The hero's green eyes were the first thing she saw when she woke up from the bubble, and the hero said 'I love you,' and took her on the mag-train to his city."

"Why dah gill s'dop dah waddeh?"

"She was very strong," Fox replied, "Sometimes stronger than the hero. A long time passed, and the girl and the hero became a mommy and daddy."

"Wha'… happen… ?" Marcus struggled to finish asking his question before his eyes closed and his head hit the pillow.

"You already know," Fox softly chuckled. He watched his son sleep, studying how the sleeping bag rose and fell with his breath for several minutes. Fox turned off the light and went back to bed. He dreamed of his wife and woke up before his son did. He lay down next to the dozing tyke and watched Marcus open his eyes. The morning sun slid its rays beneath the curtain in front of the sliding door.

After getting Marcus ready for the day, Fox made breakfast. Marcus refused to eat, eyeing the empty chair where his mother usually sat. "You've got to eat up," Fox told him, struggling to find a good incentive for his son to eat, "or… you'll… be really sad all day." Marcus tried to take a large bite of his meal, but Fox gently grabbed his shoulder. "Small bites," he told the boy, "We practiced this. Let me help." Fox cut Marcus' scrambled Pukpuk egg into pieces the size of small coins. "Try taking a bite now," Fox suggested. Marcus sat still and Fox became desperate. "Please," he implored, "just try to eat something. Mommy might be thinking about us, and she'll be really sad if you don't eat." Marcus took a bite. "Good," Fox nodded, "Can you try to finish?" Seeing the amount of pieces his meal had been carved into, Marcus was overwhelmed. He didn't want breakfast to take all day. He wanted to play at the park. He wanted to draw. He wanted to watch Arrow Racers.

Seeing Marcus hesitate, Fox sighed. He pinned a morsel on the end of the boy's bioplastic fork and held it in front of Marcus' face. "Open wide," Fox smiled, "here comes the mag-train." When Marcus obliged his request, Fox gingerly tipped the yellow hued food chunks onto the boy's tongue, the fork occasionally vibrating from Fox's involuntary tremors. "Now chew," Fox advised, "just like you did for mommy." Remembering his mother, Marcus began to tear up. "Just chew," Fox repeated his request with a gentle sternness, "Don't worry about mommy. Eat. Mommy will come home. I promise." Marcus slowly chewed and swallowed. Fox continued to help Marcus finish his meal. Almost half an hour passed. Marcus wriggled out of his booster seat, thinking his mother had already returned. He took his father's hand and dragged him towards the door. "Buddy," Fox told him bluntly, "mommy's not home yet."

"I wanna mommy now," Marcus whined, hoping Krystal could hear him, "Mommy now! Now! Now!" He repeated his demand faster and faster until it dissolved into a scream. The howl rattled Fox's eardrums, burrowing into his brain like the nanomachines had. He remembered the screams of Adolfo's child soldiers as they had joined their king in death. Fox scrunched his face tight as his head began to throb. He breathed deeply, struggling not to raise his voice.

"Marcus," Fox grumbled with quiet irritation, "you're hurting my ears." Lost in his feelings, Marcus loudly expressed his anguish for several more minutes while his father forced more air through his lungs in an effort to cool his temper.

"Wheh mommy?" the boy exploded with indignation.

"She's not home," an exasperated Fox exclaimed before taking some more labored breaths. "Stop crying," he begged, "It hurts!" He didn't want to have another migraine and upset Marcus, but the triggers were already falling into place.

"Mommy!" Marcus shrieked. Desperate to avoid berating his child, Fox forced himself outside. Despite his efforts, an involuntary shout of frustration escaped his lips, almost morphing into a roar. He placed his hand over one ear as he opened the balcony door and shut it behind him, greatly muffling the boy's cries. Marcus continued to bawl, collapsing to the floor. He began to pound the carpet with his hands and feet as his sorrow overwhelmed him. He began to feel sore, at which point he stopped and approached the sliding glass door separating him from his father. Worried his son's grief would cause him to injure himself, Fox tried to open the door. His fingers struggled to grip the handle, and Marcus slammed his fist against the glass, making it vibrate. Finding a secure grip, Fox wrenched the door open.

"Marcus," Fox cried out for his son to calm himself, "stop!"

The boy's howls came in full force once more, and Fox recoiled from the sound, sitting against the balcony railing and digging his fingers back into his ears. Marcus pushed past the doorway and threw himself at his father. Fox tensed up as Marcus wrapped himself around his leg, the father forcing his gaze upon his son's tear and mucus covered face. The boy screamed for his mother's whereabouts, and Fox found more memories of the Elysian Assault sneaking into his awareness.

He felt his hand start curling into a fist against his skull, as if preparing to defend him from one of Adolfo's child soldiers. No! Fox silently raged against his body's reflex, No! He gritted his teeth and ripped his fingers away from his palm, splaying them wide. He jammed his index finger deeper into his ear, almost brushing against his eardrum. There was a war in Fox's mind, and his love for his son was evenly matched with the nightmares of his last conflict. My… son… needs me, he thought to himself as visions of disintegrating a six-year-old Elysian child flashed through his brain, Marcus… not… enemy…! Fox's breathing came hard and swift as his heartbeat furiously defied the horrors of his past.

"Breathe," Fox panted to himself, "Breathe!" Marcus kept wailing and Fox began to fiercely inhale and exhale, trying not to cry himself or slip completely back into the memories his last opponent had left him with. However, he was already up to his metaphorical waist in the recollection of the child soldiers he'd had to slay. Rising to one knee, Fox tore his right hand from the respective ear canal and gripped his son's shoulder tightly, forcing himself back to the present. Fox noted his son's soft and malleable shirt didn't feel like the sleek alien armor the Elysians had worn when they had captured him and his friends. None of the enemy soldiers had ever cried for their mothers like Marcus was doing now. Also, Marcus was still younger than the youngest Elysian troops had been. Despite being faint in his mind, those realizations were all Fox needed to latch on to. He didn't have a choice but to do so. His son's voice was beginning to turn hoarse.

Fox wrapped the rest of his free arm across Marcus' back. "Shhh," he hurriedly tried to quiet his son down and began to sway him side to side, "Be calm. Be calm. Breathe slow." Marcus remembered the feeling of watching his TV show. He began to belt out the directions his father was tilting him in.

Fox smiled, starting to softly chant along. "Left, right, left, right," he whispered as sympathetic tears snuck down his face, "left, right… left… right…" Marcus' laments faded to a soft whimper. Fox gripped Marcus tight. "Let me… tell you something," Fox gently suggested, his words punctuated by the occasional sob, "I want mommy home, too. I know… how you feel. I cried too… when she said bye bye, but I don't scream about it now. Be a… big boy, buddy." There was a long silence, intermittently broken by the weeping toddler. "Tell me what you want," Fox's advice became firm, "but don't cry."

"I wan' mommy," Marcus asserted. A final whimper fell from his lips. Fox led his son inside, washing the child's face in the bathroom after seeing Marcus lick up the phlegm from his nose.

"Buddy," Fox carefully lectured, "don't do that. You'll get sick."

He took the boy back outside and decided to let him play and frolic on the balcony. A brief while later, Marcus tripped over one of the small dumbbells Fox used to stay in shape. He arrested his fall by bracing against the railing support. Frustrated that the inanimate object had inconvenienced him, Marcus let out an irritated grunt and kicked the dumbbell with all his might, stubbing his toe. The tyke let out a shout to indicate his discomfort and Fox shakily took the boy in his arms. Fox carried Marcus inside and retrieved an ice pack from the freezer with his free hand.

"Careful with daddy's toys," Fox breathed a flustered sigh, "buddy." Setting Marcus in his lap, he placed the ice pack on the child's injured foot. The wound had begun to swell, and Marcus whined at the cold. "Take my shirt, buddy," Fox firmly counseled, "Squeeze. It makes the pain smaller." Marcus took his father's collar in a vice grip, surprising Fox with his strength, but continued to whimper softly while Fox shushed him.

"I wan' mommy," Marcus quietly begged. Fox leaned in and planted his lips on Marcus' forehead.

"Mommy's coming," Fox softly reminded him, "Mommy's coming."

"Weally?" Marcus spoke barely above a whisper.

"Yeah," Fox promised, "She's coming. I love you." Fox spoke those three words to his son every day, grateful for the ability to do so. His head still pounded from Marcus' cries. He retrieved Marcus' crayons when he felt that the ice pack had melted, but when the boy tried to stick one of the drawing implements up his nose to better investigate their scent, Fox immediately stowed them. Seeing Marcus tense up with frustration, Fox took Marcus in his arms and gently walked around the apartment with him. "Crayons aren't for your nose," Fox sighed, "buddy." He lay down and held Marcus against his chest in bed. "I love you so much," Fox reaffirmed, "I'm just feeling a bit sick."

"Daddy boo boo," Marcus worried?

"Not from you," Fox reassured his son, "but I do have plenty."

Despite the pain in his skull, Fox was proud of how far he and Marcus had come. He remembered being terrified of holding Marcus' newborn body in the hospital on Corneria. The poison in Fox's head had caused his body to spasm occasionally during the Elysian Assault, and he'd shuddered at the thought of inadvertently dropping his son. "Fox," Krystal had suggested, "just touch him. He needs to know who you are." Fox had timidly reached out his index finger and brushed Marcus' shoulder through his swaddling clothes. When Marcus had turned his way, Fox had recoiled briefly before letting Marcus grab his finger at Krystal's request. Fox's arm had tensed up from the contact as he dreaded pulling away with force sufficient to injure his offspring. Relax, Krystal had silently advised him, breathe. He's okay. Tears of relief had flooded Fox's eyes. He'd tried slowly twisting his finger free to wipe his face, but capitulated to Marcus when his son defied his efforts.

When he finished stroking Marcus' back, Fox poured some Dumbledang juice into the child's sippy cup and let him drink. Fox carried the boy outside, too weary to wash the dishes from breakfast or clean up . He asked his son if he wanted to play some more. When the boy nodded, Fox got ready to do some push ups while Marcus climbed onto his back. "Hang on tight," Fox gave a confident grin before thrusting himself into the air, clapping his hands at the summit of his exertion, and letting himself fall against his palms. Marcus laughed the whole time.

After strenuously putting Marcus down for his afternoon nap two days later, Fox contacted Slippy. "Slippy," Fox told him over the holodisk, "As usual, I'm going to be due for another flare up sometime this week. Would it be too much to head over to Sauria and watch Marcus while I'm knocked out? Kaleb won't fit in our apartment. I'm also worried that Marcus will just wander somewhere the Earthwalkers can't reach and get lost if I take him to spend the day in their lands."

"As much as I'd like to help," Slippy sighed, "Amanda's just started labor earlier than we thought she would, and I need to help her get ready for our second child."

"I don't know who else to turn to," Fox griped, "don't you know that?" He struggled not to snap, "Help me!"

"I'm sorry, Fox," Slippy regretfully shook his head, "is there anyone else on Sauria who can help?" He anxiously turned towards his wife and gripped her hand tightly while she quietly whimpered from the pain of a birth that would last several hours. Fox did not hear her.

"I don't know!" Fox lamented angrily.

"Just ask around," Slippy sternly advised Fox after the vulpine's outburst, "I'm sure there's someone who can help."

"I don't think I'll be able to afford a sitter," Fox worried, "At least, not until Krystal comes through with her job."

"What does she do?"

"Bounty hunting," Fox shuddered briefly as he feared for his wife's safety.

"Yeah," Slippy nodded sadly with tears in his eyes, "I know that this must be hard for you, but you can do this whole dad thing. I believe in you."

"Thanks," Fox mumbled. Amanda moaned in agony as the burden of new life took its toll on her.

"I'll talk to you later," Slippy hastily reassured his friend, "Get some rest. I really wish I could help. I promise, I will never abandon you."

Slippy's head vanished from above the holodisk. Marcus was still napping peacefully. Fox held Krystal's staff tightly, waiting for her voice to sound in his mind. She heard his silent cry of frustration. I'm sorry things didn't work out with Slippy, Krystal sighed while flying her starfighter towards the edge of the Meteo Asteroid Belt, I didn't know his child would come early. Do you remember any of your other classmates?

There was a guy with a computer for half a brain, Fox faintly recalled.

I had been detecting some strange thought patterns before I left, Krystal remembered the hyperlogical screeds of information passing through her periphery whenever she went shopping.

You think it's him?

I think so, Krystal's memory served her well, you popped up among those thought patterns as a personal acquaintance.

Did you get his holodisk number?

No, Krystal replied, but I doubt he'd have changed it.

Good. I need to clean up the place.

How's our boy?

Missing you, Fox informed her, He's asleep now.

Can I check on him?

Sure.

Krystal strained her abilities to their utmost capacity and whispered a gentle greeting into her son's mind. Marcus smiled and settled deeper into his sleeping bag's embrace.

Fox resolved to fastidiously tidy up his domicile. After the last piece of clutter was dealt with, Fox decided to initiate his workout routine. Before he could finish a full circuit with his weights, he heard Marcus let out an anguished groan from his sleeping bag. Fox headed back inside to check on his son. "Hey, buddy," Fox got down on one knee and nervously eyed his son's mortified face, "What's happening?"

"I pottied," Marcus whined. Fox sniffed the air, shook his head, and pulled his son upright. The father's face fell, a mix of frustration and pity suffusing it.

"I told you," Fox sternly reminded Marcus of his error, "to try and go potty before naptime." Fox noticed his voice surging and had to catch his rage before it spiraled out of control.

"Buh I di'n hafta," Marcus sullenly reminded his father.

Fox nodded gruffly, "You still have to try, buddy. Let's get you some fresh Biggie Pants." He helped Marcus clean up in the bathroom, but noticed the boy on the verge of shameful tears. "It's okay," Fox tried to calm his son, "It's okay." Marcus nodded, misconstruing the nature of his father's statement. "Let's get you back to bed," Fox suggested, forgetting that Marcus had already slept for half an hour.

"No," Marcus replied while the pair stood in the kitchen.

"Buddy," Fox reminded him, "you need to sleep."

"No."

"Sleep?"

"No."

"Please?"

"No!"

"What do you want?" Fox became exasperated.

"I wan' cookie," Marcus requested, still not grasping his father's intended meaning.

"No," Fox replied with blatantly forced serenity, "you need to do what I say next time. You need to be a big boy."

"Buh daddy-"

"It was an accident," Fox flatly finished, "But you got wet in bed. No cookie." Marcus, however, was unwilling to accept his father's answer, and shouted in response.

"Buh I wanna cookie! You-"

Fox shook his head with a growl. He clenched his jaw, trying to avoid launching into a rant, but one word still slipped out. "You..." Fox grimaced before arresting his tongue. Marcus nervously tilted his head at his father's unfinished sentence. There was a long pause as Fox contemplated what to do next and reigned in his fury. "Go in timeout," he ordered the boy with cold serenity.

"Why?" Marcus whined.

"You asked for a cookie you did not earn," Fox sharply explained as he unfolded a black, four-legged stool, setting it by the door to the balcony. He stiffly pointed in the direction he wanted Marcus to head, but the child stood still. Fox then lifted his son into his seat of penitence, facing him towards the footboard of his parent's bed. The father stepped on to the balcony while Marcus sat still and quietly wept in shame. Fox sighed to calm himself down. "Marcus Grey McCloud," the father dryly informed his son, "Your timeout ends when I come back inside."

Many minutes passed while Fox skipped rope alone. He was pleased to see that Marcus kept his rear anchored to the black metal, despite fidgeting as his time in purgatory dragged on. Seeing his son fiddle with his hair, ears and shirt let Fox know to end his workout. Heading back inside, Fox placed his hand on Marcus' shoulder, briefly startling him. Their eyes met.

"Marcus," Fox pressed a reassuring phrase through his lips, "We'll... do better... tomorrow." Fox helped his son off of his disciplinary stool and looked over the drawings Marcus had created with a smile. "Daddy has to make a call," Fox explained before retrieving the holodisk from its nightstand charging port.

Fox contacted his old classmate, Raxis Gibbs. Raxis' vulpine face shone in the air above Fox's hand.

"Hey, Rax," Fox greeted his friend, "How's it going? Think you could watch my son, Marcus, while Krystal's gone?"

"She's gone?" A look of concern settled across Raxis' face.

"It's just her work," Fox replied, trying to stay relaxed, "and it's hard for me to keep up with the little guy without a second adult."

"Is there something else bothering you?" Raxis sensed the distress permeating his friend's voice. He watched Fox furrow his brow and struggle with his next words. There was something dark haunting him, but Raxis didn't know what it was.

Fox noticed his friend's concerned expression as Raxis' cybernetic left brain attempted to decipher the cause of Fox's anxiety. "Were you injured during the Assault?" Raxis wondered aloud, "Is Marcus a wild child?" Fox became agitated. Raxis had almost deciphered the truth, and it was tied to a memory Fox would rather not have.

"Not often," Fox explained, "but he had more than his usual share of crying fits yesterday." He took a few deep breaths before hesitantly summarizing his wife's occupation. Raxis noticed Fox tense up with fear at the thought of Krystal being in mortal danger.

"Fox," Raxis urgently questioned his friend, "are you still seeing Filigree?"

"Y-yeah."

"Book a second day with him."

"I don't know if I'll be able to afford it." Fox's eyes nervously darted back and forth as he fretted over his bank account.

"Use the money Krystal's going to bring in," Raxis firmly advised, "and now, just calm down."

"I-"

"Calm."

Fox winced as Marcus pulled his tail in a bid for attention. He whirled around to face his son, sighing as he laid eyes on the boy. Fox felt his voice harden as he loomed in Marcus' vision. "Don't," Fox paused as muted ire suffused his delivery, "pull my tail. Use your words."

"Who dat?" Marcus hesitantly wondered. Fox relaxed as Marcus' simple question caught him off guard.

"One of daddy's friends," Fox clarified.

"Sippy?" Marcus jumped up and down, eager to see the toad again. Fox's face and ears fell in unison. Marcus' eyes narrowed, but Fox pulled him close, thinking he would cry again. Setting the holodisk on the bed, he picked his son up, holding him in the device's field of view.

"Is that your little rascal?" Raxis noticed Fox's smile and softened gaze as he held the child close.

"Marcus," Fox briefly grinned, "keeps me here."

"As in," Raxis clarified, "not stuck in PTSD-land." Fox gave a subtle nod.

"Wha' bee bee ess tee?" Marcus wondered aloud. Fox eyed the boy warily, unsure of what to say. There was a strained silence.

"Not now, buddy," Fox shook his head.

"If there's anything else I can do," Raxis smiled, "Let me know."

"Sure," Fox sighed, "Just come over. I'm in room 245, Housing Block B."

"Alright."

"Think you could bring Ven with you?"

"Yeah," Raxis smiled, "our boys will keep each other company while we sort things out."

Raxis' head vanished from above the holodisk. Fox wondered how Raxis could possibly entertain his son. Nonetheless, having two extra sets of eyes would be quite helpful.

Marcus set about trying to spot a photograph of his mother amidst the collage of images covering the refrigerator door. Hearing his mother's voice wasn't enough for him. He wanted to be back in her arms. Meanwhile, Fox prepared his home for guests. Raxis and Ven left their apartment complex and walked over to Fox's abode. Raxis knocked three times.