Fan Fiction ❯ Fix Me Now ❯ Part One ( Chapter 1 )

Disclaimer: Don't own, don't sue.

AN/Warnings: Language and slashiness/yaoi ahead.

Genre(s): Angst, romance ,drama, AUish.

Setting: one year after the war with Andross

Song Credits: Fix Me Now (c) Garbage

Additional AN: What happens after "Not My Idea." I know it's been a long time. My bad. (Thank you, Pashy...^_^)

PART ONE
CHAPTER ONE

*Bury me above the clouds,

All the way from here.

Take away the things I need,

Take away my fear.*

Next day (Friday), Fox's room at the barracks, Cornerian Air Force Base

The ticking of the clock was loud, deafening in his ears; somewhere there was a faucet dripping, the gentle ping ping ping resounding in the heavy air of the room, driving him mad. Everything was too loud, too bright, it hurt to see, hurt to move, and he pulled the blankets up to his eyes again.

How long had he been lying there? Wrapped up in his cocoon of sheets, body sore, feeling split open, naked, air burning his wounds. Fox closed his eyes again, the fur around them wet and matted.

He felt like shit. Like a cheap whore. Like used up and tossed out.

He drew another shuddery breath in, tasting the sickness in his mouth, wishing that it was a bad dream, that everything was a bad dream--

But he knew he couldn't deny it.

Fox whimpered, curling into a fetal position, wrapping his arms around his body in some sort of feeble attempt at shielding himself from the world . He tugged the blankets closer, tighter, wondering briefly if he might be allowed to die of asphyxiation. But he knew he'd have to face the world sometime, get up, get dressed, act civil, happy. Sit on a hard plastic chair in a crowded room and scribble up reports for hours on end.

Fox swallowed. He wanted to cry again, but he'd done that enough already, and now that his pride had been upchucked on by Lady Fortune, and it seemed like she wasn't finished yet.

Memories of the previous day flooded his brain, like ocean waves smacking into him, salt stinging his eyes, the force threatening to pull his feet out from under him. Falco, leaning over him, grunting, pressing into him-- and there was pain, harsh and burning, biting into him, tearing him in two, his heart breaking, exploding, and--

Fox squeezed his eyes shut.

He'd considered taking a personal day, Bill would be busy with some diplomatic whatever, but Slippy would probably worry, come over to him, bother him, find out what happened and--

And Fox simply couldn't bear it.

He stared out again at the bright world, everything harsh, glaring, stark. The ticking of the clock echoed in his brain again, and everything seemed so far away. He felt detached, numb almost, the burning pain reminding him of things he could never forget.

Slowly, Fox pushed the covers off, the rustle of bedclothes, like white noise, leaves scraping across the pavement. He groaned, whimpered, putting his feet to the floor and sitting up. He curled his tail around himself, a quirk of his since he had been a pup, a little gesture of protection almost, ears pressing against his skull. He ran his paws over his face, calming himself, collecting his scattered and fuzzy thoughts.

Control, procedure. You're a former mercenary, for hell's sake. A military pilot. Not some fucking little girl. Stop crying like a baby, and get up.

Fox sucked in a breath, letting it out in a shudder, nodding. The cool, authoritative voice in the back of his head seemed sure, but he wasn't so convinced. It was all he could do, not to break down and sob, to shut the world out and drown in misery and regret. He winced, standing up on stiff legs, his breath heavy. He stumbled towards the bathroom, stomach churning as he reached out to catch himself on the sink, trembling paws grasping the cold smooth surface. He stared into the slick white of the porcelain, everything looking too far away and then too close. Fox swallowed back bile, trying not to throw up again.

Fox hit the cold tap, allowing the freezing water to pour in his paws. He quickly washed his face, although what good that did he knew not. Unbidden, his eyes drifted upwards, to the slut in the mirror, water running in rivulets down his face. His fur was matted and greasy, looking as though he'd gotten it caught in a blender. His eyes were bloodshot and wide, glassy and faraway. Fox shuddered, closing his eyes and turning away.

He quickly stripped, stepping into the shower, turning the hot tap on, not bothering with the cold water or the curtain, feeling his skin burn, watching the steam rise. He squeezed his eyes shut, wincing, tears threatening to escape the corners of his eyes. He stood underneath the searing spray until he could stand it no more, and, turning the water off, dropped to the freezing ground and sobbed bitterly.

Goddamn you, Falco......

CHAPTER TWO

*Hid e me in a hollow sound,

Happy evermore.

Everything I had to give,

Gave out long before.*

a little later, Peace Keeper's division

Fox stared at the door, unaware, his mind very far off, blue gaze fixed upon something far beyond the glossy wood. He was already late for work, but could not force himself to move, dreading what was behind the door. A crowded and stuffy room full of people, all chatting blissfully, laughing, joking. Sharing various pieces of office gossip with friends, all normal, happy, unaware of what had transpired between he and Falco the past few weeks....

He swallowed, feeling his tail curl around his leg. Fox's ears drooped, and he licked his cracked lips, stalling.

How could he face all of his friends now? How, when now he was a barren frigid shell? A dried up husk of his former self, something used, worn, an old toy, a plaything. Like a stuffed teddy bear, missing a glass eye, ripped, unwanted now, tossed aside, like some kind of--

Fox shuddered, feeling sick all over, cold body trembling.

But what else could he do?

What, go back to bed? What would that accomplish? Lying in bed all day certainly wouldn't accomplish anything. He'd just lie there, staring at those damn white walls, crying, wondering why, why, what had he done wrong. He'd have to face them all, sometime, sometime sooner or later.

He would've rather picked later.

Fox clenched his clammy paws, pushing open the door. The room was in its usual bedlam, phones ringing, loud chatter, packed full to the brim. He'd been asking Pepper for an extension for the Peace Keeper's division, it held at least half the talent of the Cornerian Army, and even some reserve Katina troops, but he'd hadn't gotten any word yet, and Sweet Goddess someone just touched me.....

Fox sucked in a shuddery breath, quickening his pace, knowing it was just an innocent brush, after all, the room was packed, but still, he couldn't shake off the grim memories, bad flashbacks. Falco was groaning in pleasure again, and Fox was getting sick.

Goddamn it.

Fox was nearly sprinting when he finally got to his desk, careful as he sat down, feeling almost protected behind it, a wall between he and the world. He opened a desk drawer, fishing out his long-suffering bottle of white out, knowing he'd need it. The tiny white bottle was almost calming, its familiarity somehow soothing as he turned it over in his palm, thumbnail scratching lightly at the white residue peeking out from underneath the cap.

My friend, you I will never abandon, Fox thought randomly, slightly amused, suddenly feeling the need to giggle from the absurdity. He controlled himself, however, shaking the semi-hysterical laughing fit off.

Fox sighed, setting the bottle before him, shuffling his papers, feeling almost like he might survive the day. He shifted through his paperwork, yawning, wishing he was on active duty, feeling restless. The Lylat War had been won over a year ago, and he hadn't been in combat since. There was always the simulators, but they weren't they same, and Fox feared he may be getting rusty. It had been at Peppy's insistence, that he take time off. To rest and recover, to let his wounds heal. Fox had expected for stay grounded for only a few months, six at the most. But whenever he mentioned battle again, Peppy managed to talk him out of it. The old hare was not adverse to using dirty tactics, and most times they involved a goodly amount of alcohol, and Fox would often forget what he had been talking about.

Fox rubbed his forehead, staring beyond the tiny printed words in front of him, thoughts turned towards the sky. Miyu was an incredible shot, and Fay was quick; they could take care of the Space Pirates and remaining Venomese scum.

But he wished so dearly he were with them.

Not here. Not now. Anywhere but here.

Fox swallowed, reminding himself to shut the hell up and do his work like a good little boy. He tapped his pen nervously against his desk top, wondering if he had the strength or self control to make it through the entire day. He didn't want to embarrass himself anymore than he had already, but it was only eight o'clock.

Fox shuffled his papers restlessly. His desk clock ticked noisily. He wasn't going to make it.

Fox shifted uncomfortably in his chair, wincing as the burning pain shot up his spine. He felt loose all over, dirty, so dirty, he didn't come clean in the shower, and he was so, so tired, and hungry, and he wanted to go, leave, it was only eight o'clock, and-

Oh, fuck, not now......

Falco walked by, sticking out from the ground as though he were lit up by some higher force, the background grey, unimportant. He ran a wing through the messy feathers atop his head, his movements full of his usual style, his lean body graceful, beautiful.

And Fox hated him.

He sat at his desk, unaware that he had a crumpled sheet of paper clenched in his paw, the knuckles turning sickly white. His face wore no expression, even as the emotions were surging and roiling inside, like the ocean surface during the howling rage of a storm, all of it threatening to tear him asunder from the inside. A trickle of wetness rolled down his chin, and at once Fox realized that he'd bitten his lip hard enough to draw blood.

He swallowed.

The clock ticked.

Falco turned around.

It all happened too quickly and too slowly all at once, Falco turning, green eyes seeking him out, pinning him down-- and he couldn't run, he had no where to run, Falco was standing alone, looking at him, a look of unimaginable pain and shame on his face--

And he blinked, looking away. Katt stepped from the void of the grey crowd and pounced on Falco, laughing, wrapping her arms around him, settling her head against his back, purring deeply. Falco smiled, Fox forgotten, pressing his wings to Katt's paws.

Fox was able to move again, some undefinable sound ripping out of him, a squeak, a cry, something that didn't sound like him. The paper crinkled in his paw, nails digging into the desk wood. And there were no words to describe the sense of betrayal and loneliness he felt as Falco turned to kiss her on the cheek. He sucked in a choked breath, scream, he wanted to scream--

And settled for running like hell. He dashed for the double doors, pushing people out of his way, not bothering to mutter apologies, just get out of my fucking way and Fox was inclined to put a paw on his protesting stomach. He wouldn't make it. He just couldn't.

Fox hit the door running, the force bursting the door open with so much inertia that it slammed back against the wall. He didn't care, feral energy rising in him, and he felt like screaming again, the rational part of his brain telling him to calm down, that he was acting crazy--

This too, shall pass.

Fox swallowed, standing still, shoulders tense and arms at his side, paws clenched. He'd remembered his father saying that once, standing all by himself, staring into the stars. He'd thought he was alone, not noticing Fox hiding behind the bookcase as he stared out the grand bay windows, stance loose, arms behind his back.

It had been the first time that he had ever seen his father weep. And the last time he had ever seen him alive.

Fox blinked, realizing he was crying again, realizing that he had a crumpled piece of paper in his paws. He dropped it, staring at his paws, watching them trembling. If, in spite of everything, love was a small problem compared to the hate and ugliness the world possessed....

Why did it feel so big?

Fox wrapped his arms around himself, allowing the tears to come freely, knowing it didn't matter much anymore. He walked briskly down the hall, towards his room, forgetting all pretenses of the day, wanting nothing more than to hide himself among the shadows of his quarters. He was nearly home free when the watery outline of Fay came into view, and judging by the way she was running up to him, she'd seen him crying.

Fox swallowed another choked cry, standing still, allowing Fay to come to him.

What did it matter, anyway? She'd find out soon enough. Find out that he was nothing more than a slut, a used piece of trash. If this was what love was like, then fuck it, he'd had enough. To think that is had meant so much to him and yet nothing to Falco....

He sobbed outright, running the back of his paw over his eyes, trying to see as Fay stopped before him.

"Oh, Fox," Fay breathed, reaching up to touch his face. "What happened?"

Fox fell to his knees, wrapping his arms around Fay and, burying his head in her warm stomach as he wept in shame and fear.