Chapter5: Surrogate Father

Marcus bolted towards the apartment front, hoping his mother was outside. His father picked him up, pressing the button that opened the door. Fox was pleased that Raxis had responded to his entreaty for aid, but Marcus was just upset that the world hadn't met his expectations.

"Wheh mommy?" The boy wondered.

"Mommy's coming, buddy," Fox sighed. He shook his head and let Raxis in. Raxis took in his friend's living arrangement.

A kitchen counter ran along the left hand wall of a narrow foyer, and a refrigerator covered in drawings and photographs sat at the far end. The bathroom door was set into the opposite wall. The foyer opened out into the bedroom containing a dresser, a bed big enough for two, a television on a small table, a dining area, and a nightstand by the window. A sliding glass door opened out onto a balcony where dumbbells and other fitness accessories rested. The inflatable mattress where Marcus slept rested at the foot of the bed, and a sleeping bag was rolled up against the far wall.

Raxis sighed, inferring that Fox hadn't been able to obtain a crib. He studied the images covering the refrigerator, smiling at the memories of Fox and Krystal each holding Marcus alongside their Earthwalker friend. Tricky's eyes were artificial, and his right front leg was in a brace.

Marcus warily scanned Raxis' features, coming to the obvious conclusion. His observation was blunt. "Youh n'od mommy." Raxis' vulpine fur was bright crimson and turned white as it ringed his mouth. Jet black hair fell along his forehead. His eyes were a brilliant amber hue. He wore a black vest over a tan button up shirt, and his jeans were mildly faded and stretched over his lanky frame. His son, Ven, merely wore some shorts and a shirt commemorating ArmorSoul, a heavy metal music group that occasionally sang ballads of Fox's exploits.

"No," Raxis sighed, "your mom's just busy. I'm here to help your dad, and maybe-"

"Wheh mommy?" Marcus shouted his question. Fox's face acquired a pained grimace, and he set his son down.

Noise sensitivity, Raxis silently observed as Fox took Marcus by the shoulders, a stern gaze settling on his face. Raxis sifted through an old Medical Corps database of diseases whose symptoms matched what Fox had presented so far. Head trauma, he concluded. He needed more information, hoping that understanding the nature of his friend's ailment could help him design a cure with the Medical Corps' aid.

"Marcus Grey McCloud," Fox reprimanded his son, "be quiet."

Frightened by his father's gaze, Marcus forced himself to stand absolutely still. Eventually, Fox's demeanor softened. He pulled Marcus close.

"This is my friend, Raxis," Fox gently explained, "He's going to help me when I get sick, and he has a big boy named Ven who really wants to play with you. Go show him your drawings. Talk to him." Marcus ran over to the refrigerator and began ecstatically describing his creations. Raxis and Fox stepped out onto the balcony, closing the door behind them.

"Seems like you've got some form of head trauma," Raxis remarked. Fox nodded sadly.

"Do you have headaches?" Raxis wondered aloud.

Nodding to confirm Raxis' suspicions, Fox found his lips stretching tight across his face. His eyes narrowed as he struggled with the memory of the curse Adolfo had placed upon him.

If Krystal needs to make a bounty hunter's salary, Raxis inferred sadly, Fox can't work. That means his headaches must happen at least once a week. He pulled Fox into his arms. "It'll be alright," Raxis sighed, "Krystal really loves you. I'm sorry you have to suffer like this."

"She," Fox replied sullenly, "used to take Marcus for a stroll whenever I had a flare up. When he saw me going through one last week, he freaked out."

"Damn," Raxis gripped his friend tight. He felt Fox struggle to hold back his tears as he remembered Marcus' cries for his mother.

"My," Fox sighed, "poor boy…"

Mood swings, headaches, noise sensitivity, Raxis added to his list of Fox's struggles. A single sob passed Fox's lips.

"Fox," Raxis firmly advised the old mercenary, "breathe. I know it sucks that Marcus is upset, but you can't bounce that energy back at him. You'll just keep him sad. He needs to be a happy little kiddo."

"Yeah," Fox nodded, "It just hurts when he isn't enjoying himself."

"You've got to be the one to help him find happiness," Raxis bluntly advised.

"Yeah," Fox agreed with Raxis' assessment. Someone with a computer in their brain was rarely ever wrong. "I might as well tell you the truth," Fox sighed, "but you'll have to forgive me if I start crying."

"Lay it on me."

"I was poisoned by the enemy during the Assault," Fox shook his head, "it's still inside me." He couldn't bring himself to say more. He remembered Adolfo's outstretched right arm, the burning in his nostrils, the foreign voice in his head, and the spurts of inability to control his body.

"Have you tried getting it removed or diluted?" Raxis wondered.

"I tried," Fox sighed, "but nothing was available. Peppy can't look like he's picking favorites for the Medical Corps' treatment. None of the CT scanning machines are open thanks to everyone else who was attacked by that same poison. They can't use an MRI without accidentally turning the weapon back on, so they can't plan any real treatment, and the current options aren't that great. Now, I just take anti-inflammatories that eat up most of my retirement check. I think my headaches would happen almost daily if not for those pills." Ven opened the door.

"The kid's quite an artist," Ven observed as Marcus poked his head around his leg.

"Yeah," Fox smiled briefly before remembering how little his family had. Raxis placed his hand on Fox's shoulder.

"Let's take a walk around the complex," Raxis suggested. Upon hearing the last three words, Marcus bolted to the front door and began to count down.

"What's he doing?" Ven wondered

"I'm racer," Marcus eagerly clarified.

"He thinks he's in the G-Zero leagues," Fox chuckled, "He gets it from his TV show." He took his son's hand, "The starting line's downstairs, buddy." The McCloud's guests followed as Marcus led his father to the ground floor outside.

The four vulpines took their positions on a line between two slabs of concrete. A weed poked up from the gap. A new blossom had begun to form after Marcus had picked the last one for his mother. The one Marcus had plucked sat in a jar on the balcony but was starting to wilt.

Marcus adopted a robotic falsetto, "Th'ee! Two! One! Goh!" He sprinted ahead, closely followed by Ven, Raxis, then Fox. They followed the building's perimeter for a lap before Marcus tripped over a pavement fissure. As he arrested his fall, his right palm scraped against the ground. He screamed as he felt where his fur had been torn from his skin. Hot blood seeped from the follicles. Fox hurried towards his son's side. "Ven," he ordered, "Get some bandages and soap ready!"

He turned to his son and gingerly held the wrist anchoring the boy's wounded hand to his body. "Look at me," Fox ordered his son while he turned the injury towards the sky, "Look at daddy." Marcus glanced down briefly and shrieked at the sight of his hand. Fox gritted his teeth, struggling not to cry himself as his head pounded from the noise. Forcing Marcus not to look at his wound any longer, he carried his son inside. Marcus' palm stained his father's shirt with red. "Fox!" a worried onlooker called out, "The kid needs a new hobby!"

After working with Raxis to wash the wound in the kitchen sink, Fox laid Marcus on the bed, sitting next to him while Ven gently pressed the gauze against Marcus' hand. Marcus screamed again. "Mommy! Gimme happy!" He begged Krystal to distract him from the pain of his injuries with her powers.

"Buddy," Fox gripped his son tightly, "It'll be alright. It's alright. It's okay. The pain will drift away." Fox couldn't finish the next verse before Marcus drowned him out with another cry of agony.

Fox! Krystal suddenly intervened, We need to get rid of that TV show!

He likes it too much, Fox replied, He won't let it go.

Then we'll get him a model race course to act it out. We should be able to afford it now.

Where are we going to keep it?

There was a long silence as Krystal broke the link between her and Fox before reconnecting. We'll keep it on the dresser, she suggested, and let him play with it next to his bed when he wants to use it.

Okay, Fox nodded, Talk to him.

Little one, Krystal telepathically whispered to the suffering boy, I'm here for you. I always will be. I felt your boo boo, and I came. I love you so… Krystal couldn't finish her sentence before the Cloudrunner's proximity alarm blared its harsh, metallic scream. One of Meteo's infamous chunks of rock loomed before the Cloudrunner. She barely dove out of the way, her fighter's wing scraping against the rock. Her powers sensed a pirate Stealth Squadron waiting to ambush those who traveled the otherwise stable route through the asteroid belt. She opened fire on them the moment they revealed themselves, destroying them before they could retaliate.

"Mommy," the boy begged, "come back!"

"She'll come back," Fox reassured his son, "She always does. At least your head's in one piece. Let's put on some TV and get lunch."

"How else do you keep him entertained?" Raxis wondered, "Just using the TV can't be good for him."

"I take him out to the park every day that I can," Fox informed his old classmate with frustration, "I'm not some deadbeat."

"You shouldn't argue in front of him," Ven reminded the two fathers that Marcus was listening. Fox gently cupped his toddler's injured hand.

"Sorry, buddy," Fox sighed, "Daddy's just…"

"Huh?" Marcus was puzzled by his father's apology.

"I…" Fox struggled to explain his predicament as his thoughts turned muddy. He refocused on preparing some meals for his guests and son. "I'll get us some food," Fox suggested, "You two make sure Marcus doesn't fidget with his bandage too much." He released Marcus, and Ven kept a sharp eye on the boy's gauze covered right hand. Fox prepared some Dumbledang Pod mash for his son and reheated a stir fry for himself, while Raxis made sandwiches for himself and Ven. Raxis ate on the balcony while Fox, Ven, and Marcus sat around the table. Fox helped Marcus eat, as the kit was right-handed. "He can eat on his own," Fox reassured his guest of Marcus' capabilities, "but preparing a meal on his own is a while away."

"You don't have many toys," Ven noted, "why is that?"

"Krystal used to use her telepathy to keep him entertained," Fox explained, "but now that you mention it, we could really use something to help him engage with the real world and not just whatever his mother cooks up for him. Money's tight for us, too. I'm almost broke." Upon hearing the mention of his mother, Marcus once again wondered where she was.

"I don't know where mommy is," Fox sighed, "but she's safe. She just talked to you." Marcus nodded and allowed his father to help him finish his meal. As Fox did the dishes, Ven informed him that he would go to a toy store in the city to look for things that Marcus might enjoy. "Maybe some G-Zero mini-racers," Fox suggested, "those are pretty cheap. I just discussed getting a model raceway with his mother."

"Okay," Ven replied, "I also noticed you didn't have much in the way of kid's books."

"That would be a big help for bedtime stories," Fox smiled, "I can't just keep telling him how I met Krystal." Ven shook his head. Fox's creative thinking seemed to be in decline. Fox felt the room begin to whirl and staggered to the side of his bed, forgetting to grab the bathroom waste bin for his vomit. Ven paused with his hand hovering over the door's activation panel, sensing the shift in the tone of the room. Marcus noticed the bedsheets rustling while Fox tucked himself in before locking eyes with the ceiling.

"Fox?" Ven wondered aloud.

"I'll be okay," Fox put on a brave smile before noticing his blunder, "Go get the trash can."

"Where?"

"In the bathroom," Fox explained as the first waves of pain lashed his brain.

"Okay," Ven nodded, "What about Marcus?" The boy was already by his father's side, and Fox looked his son in the eye with sadness.

"Marcus," Fox glumly explained, "I'm feeling sick again." Marcus fell sullen.

"Why, daddy?" the child worried aloud.

"I…" Fox lied, "I don't know." Fox clutched his head and gritted his teeth at the agony of the imaginary knives plunging through his skull. A tear ran down his face despite his efforts to hide it. Before another tear could fall, Fox laid a firm kiss on his son's forehead.

"Daddy," Marcus wondered, noticing his father's sorrow, "tissue?"

"Thanks," Fox smiled, "buddy. Ven can help you… I'll be okay."

Ven retrieved the trash can from the bathroom as per Fox's instructions and set it between the bed and the closet in the wall that separated the bedroom and bathroom. He then noticed Marcus fiercely pointing at a tissue box on the kitchen counter and grabbed that as well. Marcus put on a burst of strength and dragged Ven back to the bedside, where the container of fabric sheets came to delicately reside between Fox's fingers.

"Now what?" Ven wondered aloud.

"I need things quiet," Fox faintly requested. Marcus put his finger up to his lips, and Ven nodded.

"Let's go say hi to my daddy," Ven suggested, "then I'll get you some new toys." Ven opened the door to the balcony where Raxis was waiting. Ven informed his father of his plan.

"Good," Raxis smiled, "I'll stay with Fox and his son." He handed Ven thirty Credits.

"Quiet foh daddy," Marcus informed him.

"Yeah," Raxis nodded, "I'll be quiet."

Ven walked into town, towards the Spire, to pick up some cheap toys for Marcus. A small toy store had been built after some of the cultural historians had brought their children with them to work while studying the Saurian natives. The entrance door slid open as Ven walked inside, contemplating Marcus' interests. The tyke had babbled about the Arrow Racers TV show, the friend he had in the Saurian head of state, Lylat's stellar geography, and, most importantly, his mother. He's a lucky kid with a mom like that, Ven thought to himself, Bet he's almost spoiled. Nonetheless, he deserves some more options.

There were many options on sale. Myriad baubles, figurines, and building blocks off all colors and shapes lined the shelves that were packed into the establishment. There were even toy fighter jet replicas featuring Cornerian Army craft as well as Arwings. Ven wasn't sure how Fox would feel about Marcus recreating scenarios his father was presumably trying to avoid thinking about, so he quickly moved on from the boys' area and into a part of the store meant for a more generalized audience. Ven picked up a copy of the old board game of Boosts and Wormholes and looked over the box. The goal was simple. The first player to reach the opposite corner of the board from the starting space won. Players spun a six-segmented spinner to determine how far their playing piece moved along a one hundred space long track. Intermittently spaced along the zig-zagging path were Boosts, spaces that allowed players to skip ahead, and Wormholes, spaces that sent players backwards. Attached to the Boost spaces were images of good deeds children could perform and rewards they could expect. The Wormholes featured examples of bad deeds and punishments. The board was as black as space, with a white grid featuring green Boosts and red Wormholes. He stuffed the box into the bag of bioplastic film the store had provided him.

Never too early to start with the life lessons, Ven playfully smirked before heading back to the boys' area to grab a handful of small G-Zero race cars, each about three quarters the length of his finger. The vehicles' vividly dyed aerodynamic shells of hardened bioplastic were a stark contrast to the metal inner workings and thruster details forming the remainder of their components. Ven headed back to the counter, where he transferred money and product with the store clerk, who he easily recognized from school.

"Hey, Sean," Ven excitedly greeted his old friend, "nice seeing you."

"You too, man," Sean's scratchy, nasal response was tempered by the fact that he was on the clock under the remote gaze of his manager, "Why do you need a kid's game?"

"Fox's son," Ven explained.

"You mean…" Sean made a guess as he craned his neck to see if he could spot a line forming, "The Fox McCloud?"

"Yeah," Ven smiled gingerly.

"You're gonna be rich off this babysitting gig," Sean's eyes were wide with amazement, but his face fell soon after as Ven shook his head in reply.

"He's kinda broke," Ven clarified.

"How?"

"I don't know," Ven sighed, "but my dad might."

"Ok," Sean replied, "I'll let you deliver the goods." Ven left the store with a bioplastic bag of toys in his hand before heading to the library to grab some children's literature. When he got back to the apartment, Fox was still in bed, and Raxis was entertaining Marcus on the balcony. Ven had to call his father's phone to get him to open the front door.

When Raxis did so, he was holding Marcus by his uninjured hand while the toddler rubbed the gauze pad against his chin and cheeks. "Want to help me swap out his dressing?" Raxis inquired of his son. Ven hesitantly nodded before laying the spoils of his trip down town out on the table. Marcus' eyes widened with excitement as he saw the small race cars. Forgetting his own rule about silence, he excitedly informed Fox of Ven's acquisitions. Fox violently retched into the waste basket and groaned in pain, unable to speak. He began to quietly weep, mourning his inability to directly share in his son's joy.

Raxis restrained Marcus while Ven cleaned the boy's injury over the kitchen sink, but the tyke whined about the process. "Sorry," Ven sighed, "but we have to fix your boo boo so you can play with your new toys later." Marcus reluctantly nodded, and the trio noticed the bleeding had stopped. The section of bare skin was now a perfect spot for an adhesive bandage. Ven squeezed out a tube of topical ointment over the injury and pressed the bandage over it. Its black and white checker pattern, like Marcus' mattress cover, evoked a racing flag.

"Ven," Fox hoarsely whispered, "what did you get for him?"

"Just some little G-Zero cars, books, and a board game," Ven replied. Fox smiled and beckoned the trio over with a meager wave of his hand. He firmly reminded Marcus of his need for silence before instructing him to play with the Gibbs family on the balcony. When Fox's migraine had subsided, he forced himself upright and joined his son and guests outside.

"I'm better now," Fox informed them as he braced his posture against the slate gray wall.

"Daddy no moh sick?" Marcus wondered aloud before Fox nodded in response.

"Let me see your toys," Fox suggested and Marcus dragged him back inside using his injured hand. This inadvertently caused Fox to remember the feeling of Adolfo's hairless skin as he had pummeled the villain's head in a fit of rage. He paused, closed his eyes, and gritted his teeth. Marcus noticed his father's fingers slip away.

"Daddy?" the boy's voice snapped Fox back to the present.

"It's…" Fox hesitantly remarked while uncurling the fist he had made, "It's alright, buddy. Let's see your toys." He offered Marcus his hand.

Marcus dragged Fox the rest of the way to the dining room table and giddily held up the tiny race cars, thrusting them towards his father's face. "Buddy," Fox chuckled, "I can't see it when you hold it like that." A back and forth between father and son ensued as Marcus tried to provide Fox with an optimal viewing angle. Eventually, at Raxis' suggestion, Fox sat down and took Marcus in his lap to view the kit's new prized possessions. While Marcus cheerfully gripped his toy, Fox positioned his son's hand where they could both take in the tiny vehicle's sculpted details. "That's a nice little race car," Fox smiled, "Thank you, Ven."

"Well," Raxis beamed proudly, "I think I'm done here for now." As the Gibbs' headed home, Fox let Marcus lead him in scooting the G-Zero vehicles across the table. He moved the fun down to the carpet when the harsh noise of the wheels against the hard surface began to bother him. Somewhere in the interplanetary darkness, Krystal smiled.

A few more weeks passed before she returned, and in that time, Raxis and Ven made several more visits. They advised Fox on how to help his son develop to maturity without rushing him, as Fox had done over the past two years. Fox training himself to appreciate Marcus' smaller victories was essential to their efforts. He even managed to reward his son's taking his advice with greater enthusiasm than before, all the while learning to let the boy grow up at his own pace. Maybe she was right, Fox contemplated the conversation he'd had with Krystal before she'd left for work, Maybe I could afford to let him enjoy himself more.