Ranma 1/2 Fan Fiction ❯ Phoenix ❯ Chapter 10 ( Chapter 11 )

See Chapter 1 for Disclaimer

Ranma sat in the parking lot of her husband's fighter squadron, the jeep's engine idling as her husband pulled out his flight bags from the back of the vehicle. "How long are you going to be gone again?"

"About a week," her husband answered. "That's if we don't get knocked out in the early parts of the competition." Marx set his bags on the pavement. "Will you be alright while I'm gone?"

Ranma climbed out of the jeep and hugged her husband. "I'll miss you, but I'll be fine. Mom's going to come up from Minato and keep me company. I've already arranged for a temporary ID for her from the Security Forces."

Marx smiled at his young wife. He could smell the herbal shampoo she used on her hair, and breathed deep of her scent to remind him of her while in Nevada. "At least you won't be lonely while I'm gone. Your mother does know that she can't carry her katana around on base, right?"

"Hai. I told Okasan that and she has no problem leaving it at the house."

"Good. Knowing how your mother can get, I thought she might have a problem with the base weapons policy…"

"Hey Scooter," Marx's wingman for the mission called, "time's a wasting."

"Yeah, yeah, I know Doc. I'll be in in just a minute."

The redheaded mother-to-be felt impulsive and pulled her husband into a passionate kiss right there in the parking lot in front of the squadron. Marx didn't care about the ragging he'd get in the briefing and up in the air. For him, it felt right. He was going to be gone for a week, trying to compete against the finest fighter pilots in the Air Force.

MAJ. Wegner noticed this from the window of his office, and pulled the half of the squadron that was deploying outside. He placed them in a half-circle around the couple and, on the count of three; the fighter pilots all went "Aw, how cute!"

The couple broke their kiss and Ranma could feel her cheeks burning. Marx fixed the detachment commander a look. The squadron operations officer chuckled. "I'll call when we get to Nellis. Take care of yourself," Marx said

Ranma hugged her husband. "I will. Hopefully, there won't be any need to call you back," she said, referring to their child growing in her belly. Six, almost seven months in the womb, and she could have known the sex of her child, but Ranma wanted it to be a surprise.

Marx gave his wife one more hug, before picking up his bags and walking into the squadron building. Ranma sat back in the jeep, getting as comfortable as she could on the original spring and thin cushioned seats. As her husband and his crew were getting briefed and preflighting their fighters, she began to nap. Ranma woke not to long after her husband got out of bed for this predawn departure, so she was still tired.

The roar of twelve Pratt and Whitney F119 turbofan engines lighting off woke the slumbering martial artist. Walking past the squadron building, Ranma watched as the fighters began taxiing from their hardened shelters. She chuckled aloud when she saw her husband's fighter, made obvious by the prancing Ferrari pony under the cockpit sill, a reference not only to his wife's name but also his status as a "mustang" officer-an officer who started his career out in the enlisted ranks. She continued to watch as the fighters did their "baby elephant march" as they taxied one behind the other to the runway. With an angry roar, the first pair of fighters were cleared on to the runway and streaked down it, pulling up halfway. Her husband's was the lead of the last pair, and as he sucked up his landing gear, he waggled his wings for her, before disappearing into the rising sun. Smiling at the last cloud of exhaust, Ranma said quietly "Banzai, anata. May grandfather's spirit watch over you, and grant you the same success he had." She walked back to the jeep, knowing she had time, since her mother's train wouldn't be arriving until one.

------

With room assignment in hand, Marx made his way to his room in the Visiting Officer Quarters at Nellis. As much as the new Dart maintained the gentlemanly qualities of its older, long since retired, siblings, a nine hour flight was still not fun in the confines of a tactical fighter. Particularly when you woke up with six cups of coffee and your "piddle pack"-a Ziploc bag with a sponge in it-was supersaturated, and you still had to go. In a way, Marx felt sorry for his ground crew, since he took a lesson from the Alan Shepard Book of Space Flight, and wet his diapers. His crew was responsible for maintaining the aircraft, inside and out, and more likely than not, the most junior member of the ground crew was made to clean Marx's ejection seat. The former enlisted man planned on making it up to his crew by supplying them with a couple of cases of beer that night.

Entering his room, he was reminded of staying in a decent mid-grade hotel. He threw his bags on the bed, and dialed out to his home in Japan. "Moshe, moshe Marx-ke," he heard his mother-in-law answer. He chuckled, since anyone calling would be thrown for a loop right now, except for his crew chief's family.

"Konbanwa, Okasan," he said. "Is Ranma there?"

"Hai, Christopher-kun. One moment." He heard his mother set the phone down and call his wife.

"Hi Chris," she said, as she picked up the receiver. "How was the flight?"

"Eight hours too long. Next time, not so much coffee, ok?"

Ranma chuckled on the other end of the line. Already Marx was missing his young wife. "Ok. Mom's settling in. I took her grocery shopping, and she's told me to relax, and enjoy my holiday. Although I think she means to hook me up with some young guy she knows back in Minato."

"Ha ha. I don't want to run up the phone bill, so I'll call back tomorrow, later. Ok?"

"Ok. I love you Chris. Take care."

"I will. I love you too. Good night." He hung up the phone, and unpacked. Marx was going to be here awhile, so it wouldn't do to live out of a bag like he was still in the Army.

* * *

Ranma was helping her mother clean the house…well more like watching her mother clean the house. Nodoka refused to let her pregnant daughter do anything more than the least stressful beginners katas of Musabetsu Kakutou or cook. As much as she loved her mother, it wasn't worth the aggravation of telling her mother what she was and wasn't able to do. After all, she did survive almost 10 years on the road with her father's cruel and unusual training methods. She was just getting up to go get a drink of water when there was a knock at the door.

Hesitant, because it didn't sound like the knock, but it was still an unexpected knock at the door, Ranma answered it. "May I help you?"

"Mrs. Marx?" Ranma nodded. "My name is David Goldman. I'm with the Red Cross office here on base. Is your husband home?"

"He's at Nellis, Mr. Goldman. Is there anything I can do for you?"

It was then that she noticed Col. Bell standing next to the Red Cross representative. "Ranma, the Red Cross received notification that your father-in-law is in the hospital. It's not good news. I don't know if Chris told you, but his father has incurable prostate cancer, and it's metastasized out of the lymph nodes. Your mother-in-law thought it important enough to send out a Red Cross notification."

The redheaded martial artist paled at the news of her father-in-law. The grandfather clock in the hall chimed the hour. She allowed them in, and seated them in the living room. In rapid fire Japanese, she asked her mother to bring refreshments. As Nodoka went into the kitchen, she looked at the two sitting across from her…next to the rocking horse her father-in-law handmade when Marx told his parents first that he was married again, leaving out certain details, and secondly his new wife was pregnant. "Did Ginny," she felt weird using her mother-in-law's name in front of strangers, "list how bad John is?"

Goldman shook his head. "Mrs. Marx does not. She just requests that her son and daughter-in-law come home as soon as possible."

"Ranma," Col. Bell said, "I have orders for you for the next flight to the United States. And, even though General Leonard doesn't like our squadron, he's endorsed you to the head of the list. There's a KC-10 heading home this afternoon for McGuire. It's just like a civilian airliner, just without a lot of the amenities.

"Chris will meet you there. I faxed his orders separating him from the exercises at Nellis, and take his fighter to where you'll be landing. Both your return orders are open ended." Bell stood, followed by Goldman. "Ranma, I hope that this is nothing, but…" His voice trailed off, as he placed a hand on the teenage mother's shoulder.

"Colonel, thank you. I hope so too."

------

There was a knock on the door to Marx's quarters. Followed by a more persistent knock. Followed by keys jangling in the lock, and the door opening. Followed by the light to the room flipping on. Blinking, Marx woke up. "Wha…what time is it?"

"It's quarter after 12 in the morning, Captain. New orders for you have just come in from Japan." That got Marx's attention, clearing any thoughts of going back to sleep when Fuzz left. "You need to head home as soon as possible."

He took the barest moment to process the information. "Did something happen to Ranma?"

MAJ. Wegner chuckled. "No, Captain. Ranma is fine. Your mother sent out a Red Cross notification to the base. Your father's in the hospital. His cancer's come back with a vengeance."

"Kuso," he muttered under his breath.

"I'm having your ground crew rousted to get your fighter prepped. Base Operations is filing your flightplan to McGuire."

"Wait a second. I'm flying to McGuire?"

Fuzz nodded. "You'll meet your wife there. She's going to be on a KC-10 from Misawa. I want you wheels up in forty five minutes."

Marx nodded and started pulling on his flightsuit. "Understood sir. And when do these emergency orders end?"

"The CO left them open-ended. But don't stay away too long."

"Roger that, sir," he said as he started throwing his clothes back into his bag. He paused and wrote down the keycode to the classified safe. "Here's the code to the classified safe, Major. All classifieds were accounted for as of this afternoon."

Fuzz nodded. "Fly safe, Captain. And I hope your father is alright."

"Thank you sir."

------

The flight to McGuire was uneventful for the fighter pilot, other than fighting to stay awake. Of course the summer dawn coming right into the cockpit was a helpful distraction for the middle-aged fighter pilot. He touched down at New Jersey's only active air force base and taxied to a parking area. Once the wheels were chocked and secured, Marx left his fighter to the tender mercies of the McGuire ground crews and walked into the terminal. "Excuse me Airman, but when is the KC-10 coming in from Misawa?"

"1230 sir."

Thanks. Is there anyplace I can crash for a while until it arrives, like a crew lounge?"

"No sir, unless you want to get a room at the Falcon Lodge."

Marx shook his head. "No thanks. I'm only waiting for someone on that flight." He went over to the base auto rental, and signed for basic transportation before snagging a comfortable looking chair next to a wall. Settling in, Marx closed his eyes.

When the relief for the airman behind the reception desk showed up at eight, she looked at Marx sleeping in the chair. "How long has he been here?"

"Since about quarter to six. He's waiting for someone on the KC-10 that's coming in from Misawa."

"So who's coming in?"

The off-going airman looked at the passenger manifest. "Only one passenger. A 'Ranma Marx' flying in on emergency orders."

"So I guess that would be their sponsor"

"Yeah, one 'Captain Christopher Marx, 14th Fighter Squadron.' He flew in from Nellis separately."

"Thanks. Get some sleep."

He felt a tapping on his shoulder. Slowly, Marx blinked himself awake, and found himself looking into the loveliest pair of blue eyes he'd seen in a while. "Been waiting long?" His wife asked, the barest hint of a smile on her face.

Still not fully awake yet, Marx ran his hand along his face. "Um, well, yeah. How was the flight?" Marx stood and stretched with a loud series of pops. He grabbed his wife's bags and led her out to the rental car.

"Long," she sighed. "Although it was kind of interesting. I got to watch us refuel in midair from another tanker, and the pilot turned the controls over to me for a couple of hours, while he relieved the copilot. Compared to your plane, that tanker was slow and sluggish."

Marx chuckled as he put her bags in the trunk, while Ranma climbed in. He got in, and started up the Chevy sedan. "Well, one's a modified airliner, the other's purpose built to be fast and maneuverable." He pulled on to the main road to the gates and left the base.

The ride up to Marx's parents' house in northern New Jersey was quiet, with just the music from a classic rock station out of Manhattan. Neither knew what to expect when they pulled up to the house that Marx grew up in.

Anticipating the worst, Marx made the left on to the street he grew up on. A flood of memories came back to him as he parked the car on the gravel driveway. Memories of playing with neighborhood kids long since grown up and moved away; watching the members of the long-since disbanded 104th Engineering Battalion, NJ Army Guard, replace the footbridge over the brook that cut the street in half; sledding down the hill on snow days, before the plows showed up; his first days of kindergarten, junior high, and high school; the prom he didn't really want to go to, but went anyway. His going away to Tobyhanna Army Depot and getting qualified in his job in the National Guard and finding out that his father put a koi pond in the backyard in four weeks.

Ranma saw the distant look in her husband's eyes and placed her hand on his arm. That seemed to pull him out of his reverie. "Are you all right, Chris," she asked, concern in her voice.

"I was just remembering growing up here. Some good memories, some bad. I'll be fine-let's go meet the parents."

Walking into the backyard, the greetings from his mother and sister, as well from the nephews and niece, were subdued. The face-to-face meetings between his family and wife were a little more enthusiastic. After settling Ranma into one of the Adirondack chairs on the deck, and fixing her an iced tea, Marx settled down in the other chair next to hers. "How's Dad?"

"He's not well. The cancer came back with a vengeance and has, according to his doctor, totally ravaged his system," his mother said. "Your father's only been given a few days left; that's how bad it is."

Marx sat back in the chair. "Damn," he muttered. "Where is he?"

"Pascack Valley Hospital-in their hospice unit."

Marx slid out of the chair and stood. "I'm going to go visit him."

Ranma nodded. "I'll go with you later, or I'll have Ginny or Kristen drive me there." Marx kissed his wife gently on the forehead and left her to talk with his family.

When Ranma got to the hospital, she noticed her husband sitting on a bench in the unit, his eyes were wet with unshed tears. "He's resting right now. Doctor's orders."

"What's wrong?"

"He was…is, a powerful man. Not in terms of strength, but in personality and presence. It hurts to see him lying in bed like this."

"I know. I know," Ranma murmured, as she pulled her husband to her, and held him. The emotional barriers finally broke, and Marx's tears began flowing freely. Sure he had an on again/off again relationship with his parents, but that was his father lying in the hospital dying. And like he did for Ranma eight months ago, Ranma held her husband as his emotions found their outlet and forced their way to the surface. She just held him tight, rubbing his back, listening to his choked sobs as he cried out several years' worth of emotions.