Fan Fiction ❯ Fix Me Now ❯ Part Three ( Chapter 3 )

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

AN: ^ ^;;; I really don't mean to take so long, and I don't do it to be mean, or rude. It's just taken me a lot longer to write these last few parts than expected. I've had a busy time this summer, when I expected to get a lot accomplished, so I'm just as frustrated as you. Please forgive me.

PART THREE
CHAPTER FIVE

*Cut me down or cut me dead;

Cut me in or out.

Kiss me blind, time after time.

Take away my doubt.*

the following day, Cornerian Air Force Base, Mess Hall

Fox was too busy playing with his soup to notice Miyu's presence. The lynx scratched the back of his head, unsure of what to say or do. Fay had told him that Fox wasn't feeling well, that he needed cheering up. Staring down at a dismal Fox who looked as though he were ready to burst into tears gave Miyu the idea that maybe "Fox wasn't feeling okay" was an understatement.

Miyu finally made a move to sit, choosing the seat across from Fox. He suppressed an embarrassed flush, feeling Fox's eyes on him as he grabbed his fork and stabbed at his salad, cramming it into his mouth, trying to buy some time while he thought of something intelligent to say. Fox looked wrung-out, like he either hadn't slept in weeks or was flying on a bad LSD trip, and he was fidgety, wincing and shifting around in his chair.

Here goes nothing, Miyu thought, clearing his throat, blushing again when Fox's bloodshot eyes drifted upwards towards his face again, the contemp clearly written in their depths. "Eerm, nice weather we're having, ne?"

"I wouldn't know. I'm stuck behind a desk all day," came Fox's sullen, monotone reply. Miyu flushed again, shoveling caesar salad into his jaws at rapid speed, knowing full well that Fox was pissed of as hell at his new career arrangements. Miyu hadn't spoken that often with Fox before he'd joined the team, and even less now. The only reason he'd gotten the job was because of his impeccable aim, and because he was friends with Fay, who was friends with Fox. But any fool could tell that Fox was slightly resentful of the two; while he was running through mounds of paperwork they were running through the stars.

Miyu coughed.

"Football's been heating up, ne? Did you see last night's game?"

"I don't watch football," Fox spat, twirling his spoon around in his soup. Miyu noticed the fur on the back of Fox's neck was bristled, and a trickle of sweat ran down the lynx' forehead. He'd quickly gotten the point that Fox wanted to be left the hell alone, but it was a favor to Fay, and he had promised....

O~okay... This is going well.... Maybe he'll just snap and eat me next time....

Miyu sighed, mind struggling to come up with decent conversation material.

Women, right? All men like women.

"Did you see Katt in her new skirt? She's a cutie, ne? Great set of legs," Miyu said, smiling dreamily, remembering seeing Katt earlier that morning, hips swaying gently and elegantly, long legs stretching high up into her small, pleated lavender skirt. He'd said something charming and she'd giggled. Miyu happily sighed at the memory, absently poking his fork at his lettuce again.

"It's a shame she's got the hots for Falco Lombardi," Miyu muttered, the stabbing of his fork becoming more deliberate. "That guy is such a fucking prick, man."

There was an ominous bark from Fox's side of the table, and Miyu swallowed, his paw stilling. He stared into the mangled lettuce leaves and semi-squashed tomatoes, unwilling to look up. Maybe they were closer friends than he had originally thought?

Shit fuck fuck fuck, damage control, now!

Miyu's prayers answered, Fay walked up then, holding a tray in her paws, smiling brightly. She'd sent Miyu over to try and talk with Fox, maybe break the ice. It had hurt yesterday, when she had tried to help and he'd told her to piss off. She had tried to make him see the truth, but he'd just walked away, and she'd been left alone with memories that she'd nearly drowned in.

But if she could just make him understand.....

"You boys having a lovely talk?" she asked, sitting down beside Miyu, her smile fading when she noticed Fox's expression; seething as he stared across the table at Miyu, who looked ready to pee his pants or start crying for his mother. Fay's forehead creased, worry setting in.

"Fox...Miyu...." Fay trailed off, pressing her ears against her head. Maybe it hadn't been such a good idea. "Are you two okay?"

"What the fuck would you know?" Fox suddenly growled, a hint of a sob underneath, as he snatched up his tray with a terrific rattle that startled both Miyu and Fay. Fay rose up, reaching out a paw, opening her mouth to say something. Fox snarled, batting her paw away, walking elsewhere briskly.

Miyu sighed, watching Fox stomp off. He sat down, shrugging, wondering what the hell he said wrong. He scratched his head, turning to Fay, who smiled up at him sympathetically, fluffy ears flopping slightly when she cocked her head to the side.

"Good thing I got you, kiddo," Miyu said, flashing a charming grin, ruffling the soft fur atop Fay's head. "You're like a little sister."

Fay blinked, hiding her wince behind a smile that never reached her eyes.

moments later, Fox's room at the barracks

Fox stumbled into his room, biting his lip almost hard enough to draw blood. He slammed the door shut, locking it, trying to blow off a little steam. The feverish rage that had consumed him moments ago was nearly gone, leaving only embers of hatred behind. He'd been so irritable lately, wracked with emotional guilt and left tired when sleep did not come easily. Now, the slightest provocation seemed to cause him to spontaneously combust.

Fox sucked in a breath, running a trembling paw over his shaggy forehead. He sat down on his bed, tail curling up into his lap. He stroked his fingers along the fur listlessly, eyes staring beyond the ratty carpet as his brain spun among things he tried to understand.

Love was supposed to be beautiful. It was supposed to be fun. It was supposed to be wonderful, and happy, and exhilarating. No. Painful, ugly, dumb as a post. That was love.

So why don't you just go talk to him? Hm? Just tell him.....it's over. That's all you can do. Fay was right. As he's done was take things from you for his own benefit. You've let him. Maybe this relationship thing wasn't such a good idea in the first place.

Fox's lip quivered slightly, and he squeezed his eyes shut, raising his head up. He was giving up. That was the only thing he could do. Fox's eyes began to sting, and he buried his head into his pillow.

"Shit," he muttered, his voice catching.

CHAPTER SIX

*Fix me now,

I wish you would.

Bring me back to life.

Kiss me blind, somebody should.

From hollow into light.*

evening, Falco and Katt's trailer

Falco had spent the entire day brooding, flipping through an endless array of infomercials and soap operas, one wing wrapped around the television clicker, the other draped in a bag of greasy potato chips. The only times he'd moved were to scratch himself or to get up to pee, content to wallow in his depression and masculine body odors while watching the almighty tube.

He sighed, closing his eyes and listening to the light sprinkling outside grow into a heavy downpour. It had been muggy for the past several days; the rain would be a nice treat. For a moment, Falco considered the possibility of stepping outside under the pretenses of running around like a maniac in the rain, but he rested his head on his wing instead, settling for just feeling sorry for himself and staring at the TV.

He'd felt so dead lately, so unlike himself. His confidence had been shot to hell over the past few days, running away from him in red rivulets that had trickled from Fox who had screamed in pain and despair when he had moaned in pleasure. Falco was used to being detached from the world; cool, confident, cocky. Fox had the uncanny ability to get underneath his skin, and that had always unnerved Falco. He'd never gotten along with people, and he'd spent years careful constructing an airtight shell that Fox had been able to get into in a matter of minutes. Telling him to screw off was Falco's way of dealing with it.

Falco grunted, turning the television off and downing the rest of his beer, grimacing at the bitter taste. He hated beer, and could only stand to drink it during times when he really, really needed to get drunk. He decided to count this little crisis as one of those times.

He'd spent so much time thinking about the days before, the events leading up to one painful, scary moment. Thinking about the things he could have done to prevent it; there were so many things......

Falco crossed his wings, hunching over, shuffling down the hallway towards his room, sick of staring at the TV suddenly. He was getting restless, feeling edgy. He was slightly buzzed, a warm feeling settling over him, his stomach pulling in knots. Liquor always made him sick to his stomach. Falco groaned, running a wing over his forehead, momentarily pushing feathers out of his eyes before they fell back.

Falco breathed in a shaky sigh, stepping into his room surveying the chamber, memories washing over him like some rank stench. He threw himself down onto his bed, the sheets still vaguely smelling of Fox, and suddenly it was hard to swallow. He covered his face with his wings, peeking up at the semidarkness of the ceiling through blue feathers. He wasn't really thinking of anything, a voice in the back of his mind quietly berating him while his mind stood still, the noise of the rain surrounding him. Falco pulled his wings away, staring through the darkness at a poster on the wall.

The fox was still there, looking below, arms raised to the sky and a God that did not listen. His ratty wing was listless, broken and left unfunctional. The handcuffs dangled from bleeding wrists, silver fur dripping. It seemed so realistic, so tormented, like a mockery of the present situation. Falco growled, snapping, snatching at the poster, ripping it from one top corner across to the bottom, crumpling the glossy paper into a tiny wrinkled wad. He seethed, dropping the crumpled mass, pressing one wing against the wall, leaning heavily onto it. He ran his free wing through the feathers atop his head, eyes squeezed shut, teeth clenched against a sob that threatened to leak out.

Falco stood alone for several minutes, choking miserably. A cold shudder ran throughout his body, his heavy breathing accompanying the sound of heavy rainfall outside.

You're a bastard, Lombardi.

A small, undignified sob escaped Falco, who immediately covered his face in disgust.

Through the darkness, there was the unmistakable sound of knocking coming from the front door. Falco leaned up of the wall, blowing out a quivering breath, straightening out his loose, rumpled shirt. Must be Katt. Probably forgot her keys again, Falco idly thought, sauntering down the hallway towards the door. He sniffed, wiping his shirt sleeve over his moist eyes, and opened the door, a wave of shame and surprise running over him when recognition set in and he realized that it was not Katt.

"Can we talk?" Fox asked, shivering from rain and apprehension.