Ranma 1/2 Fan Fiction ❯ Phoenix ❯ Chapter 15 ( Chapter 17 )
[ Y - Young Adult: Not suitable for readers under 16 ]
By: Maj_Scooter 
Anime/Manga: Ranma 1/2 Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Romance / Mecha / Hentai / Drama | Type: Alternate Universe | Uploaded On: 04.17.2007 | Pages: 1 | Words: 1.5K | Visits: 870 | Status: Work In Progress
Anime/Manga: Ranma 1/2 Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Romance / Mecha / Hentai / Drama | Type: Alternate Universe | Uploaded On: 04.17.2007 | Pages: 1 | Words: 1.5K | Visits: 870 | Status: Work In Progress
Three unmarked sedans—all identical except for their GSA tags—pulled out of the front gate of Morristown Air Force Station and headed towards NJ Highway 24. There was no escort or coordination with state, county or municipal authorities, since that was not part of the mission, nor was there any need.
* * *
Ranma pulled into the driveway and sighed. Her husband's jeep was still in the driveway; in the same place it had been for the past five months. Sliding open the rear passenger door, Saburo jumped out of the minivan and ran into the house.
She smiled at her son's enthusiasm, it reminded her so much of herself when she was that age. And Saburo took to martial arts like a duck to water—like she did when she was six.
She set her school books on the kitchen counter, and as she did for the past five months, quickly cleaned house, started dinner and went over the bills. Colonel Reed had ensured that Finance continue to keep her husband's salary coming, even though the Pentagon had declared him missing.
With the bills sorted, dinner simmering, and Saburo practicing his forms, Ranma waddled out of the kitchen and opened the door to her husband's office. She kept it clean, far cleaner than when he was using it. As much as she despised her husband's habit, Ranma kept Marx's humidor the way he liked it: 70 degrees and 65 percent humidity. The model Phantom he had been building was still in the same state of construction as when he left.
It was, for Ranma Marx, the same routine she followed for the past five months. And shortly it was about to be interrupted.
The three sedans pulled up to Marx's house. Two plainclothes OSI agents climbed out of the lead and trail sedans while a third climbed out and opened the back door of the middle car. Marx climbed out and looked around, but all that mattered was that he was home after three months at sea with a Soviet intelligence trawler and two months debriefing with the boys at Langley and Air Force OSI to ensure that he hadn't been turned by the KGB.
Marx took one step towards his home, when he got bowled over by a pint-sized ball of fury. "POPPA!" Saburo cried, as he hugged his father.
Ranma opened the front door; she was on her way to see what Saburo had started running for...
Marx was just getting up—not an easy task with a six year old attached to both legs like a limpet—when he got knocked over again by a redheaded ball of energy. "Anata," she said in Japanese, "I've missed you so very much. I'm just so happy that you're home." Ranma hugged her husband in an Amazon Glomp that would have put the most amorous of Amazons to shame.
"Momma," came a muffled cry, "get offa me. You're crushing me." This was quickly followed by a pint-sized foot to her shin.
Ranma rolled off her husband and son with an abashed look on her face. Marx smiled at his wife and son, as he got up. "It's good to be home," he said, as he helped his wife up. He waved to the smiling OSI agents, who then got in their cars and left.
"So what happened?" Ranma asked, as she shut the front door. Saburo ran upstairs to change out of his gi, and get cleaned up for dinner.
Marx looked at his young wife. Worry lines etched in her face intermingled with the faint scars from Genma's bungled attempt to train her (then him) in the Neko-ken. He knew she was going to ask him sooner or later. He was just glad it was now. "Beetle bought it when we closed on the bandit; they fired two missiles at us. He wasn't able to evade in time, or eject. I launched every missile I had on my plane, only to see them decoyed away.
"I closed to within gun range and opened fire with my cannon. They returned fire with their tail turret. So we shot each other down; I survived, they didn't." Marx continued his story, pausing only for dinner, which Ranma apologized for such simple fare. With Saburo tucked into bed, he resumed his tale out on the deck, the waterfall of the pond, the never ending traffic on Rt. 24, and the wind chimes creating dissonant background music for his tale.
Ranma sat, coffee cup in hand, listening to her husband weave his tale. Until a sudden sharp pain hit her. "Chris...I think...no, it's time. Get Saburo." Marx ran upstairs and grabbed their son. Even with the initial contractions, Ranma had to smile at her son's "Tenchi Nibonnoichi" pajamas her mother sent him for his birthday. Another wave of contractions hit her as they climbed into the minivan and headed for Minuteman Clinic, on the base.
Delivery, for Ranma, was easier this time around, but longer. Their second son was delivered after nearly twenty hours on the table. Not five minutes after Chris, Jr. was born, his sister wanted out. And for both Ranma and Nodoka Virginia, the delivery was mercifully short, but Ranma was exhausted. Dr. Morgan put her on extended bed rest and large bore IVs to replace lost nutrients.
With a phone call to the squadron by the attending ER doctor for Captain Marx, the squadron rushed to the clinic. They all congratulated him, and clustered around the nursery windows. "Hey guys," Marx said, "you're scaring the kids."
Col. Reed looked at his former executive officer. "Congratulations anyway, Captain. I've got to get these pirates back to work. By the way, what happened to your hand?"
Marx looked at the cast on his hand, and grinned sheepishly. "Ranma sort of crushed it while she was delivering Chris. After this, though, I'm getting fixed. I don't think I could have every bone in my hand broken a third time and not be crippled by it." Col Reed gave him an odd look. "It's a long story, sir."
"I...see. Paperwork's already filled out, so you're on leave until your hand's healed. Take care of your family, Marx."
"Yes sir. Thank you, sir.
-----
Hangar One
Morristown AFS
8 weeks later
Marx stood in formation with the rest of the assembled squadron and subordinate units in the main maintenance hangar. He glanced over to his wife, while listening to the wing commander talk. Ranma was being the perfect mother right now, playing the dutiful officer's wife. The twins were both quiet for the first time in eight weeks, thankfully. When one went down, the other would wake up, crying. They never ate at the same time and, when they had time to spar, their sparring showed that Ranma was about ready to kill her husband.
"Captain Marx—post."
He almost missed it, but snapped to attention and headed to where the General was. "Attention to orders. Special Order number 548, dated 1 June 2010. The President of the United States of America, recognizing the honor, fidelity, and ability for increased responsibility hereby promotes Captain Marx to the rank of Major, O-4.
"Will Mrs. Marx please come forward." Ranma stood, after giving the twins' stroller to her sister-in-law, and followed her mother-in-law up.
The General took his newest major's flight cap off, while Ranma and Marx's mother pinned his new rank on his uniform jacket.
"I wish your father was here to see this," his mother said as she hugged him.
"He is, Mom," Marx replied. "He is."
"Congratulations anata," Ranma said, as she kissed her husband.
With his wife and mother stepping off to the side, Marx did an about face, and received the applause of his peers, before returning to the formation. He barely got there when the adjutant called him back up. He reported again.
"For meritorious service as wingman, Captain Christopher Marx is awarded the Silver Star..." The General's adjutant read the citation as witnessed by one of the USS Enterprise's Hawkeye crews.
When she was finished, General Rodriguez stepped forward and pinned the award on Marx's left breast. "Congratulations again, Major. You are also authorized to paint a second star on your fighter," he said as he saluted.
Marx returned the salute. "Thank you, sir."
* * *
Ranma pulled into the driveway and sighed. Her husband's jeep was still in the driveway; in the same place it had been for the past five months. Sliding open the rear passenger door, Saburo jumped out of the minivan and ran into the house.
She smiled at her son's enthusiasm, it reminded her so much of herself when she was that age. And Saburo took to martial arts like a duck to water—like she did when she was six.
She set her school books on the kitchen counter, and as she did for the past five months, quickly cleaned house, started dinner and went over the bills. Colonel Reed had ensured that Finance continue to keep her husband's salary coming, even though the Pentagon had declared him missing.
With the bills sorted, dinner simmering, and Saburo practicing his forms, Ranma waddled out of the kitchen and opened the door to her husband's office. She kept it clean, far cleaner than when he was using it. As much as she despised her husband's habit, Ranma kept Marx's humidor the way he liked it: 70 degrees and 65 percent humidity. The model Phantom he had been building was still in the same state of construction as when he left.
It was, for Ranma Marx, the same routine she followed for the past five months. And shortly it was about to be interrupted.
The three sedans pulled up to Marx's house. Two plainclothes OSI agents climbed out of the lead and trail sedans while a third climbed out and opened the back door of the middle car. Marx climbed out and looked around, but all that mattered was that he was home after three months at sea with a Soviet intelligence trawler and two months debriefing with the boys at Langley and Air Force OSI to ensure that he hadn't been turned by the KGB.
Marx took one step towards his home, when he got bowled over by a pint-sized ball of fury. "POPPA!" Saburo cried, as he hugged his father.
Ranma opened the front door; she was on her way to see what Saburo had started running for...
Marx was just getting up—not an easy task with a six year old attached to both legs like a limpet—when he got knocked over again by a redheaded ball of energy. "Anata," she said in Japanese, "I've missed you so very much. I'm just so happy that you're home." Ranma hugged her husband in an Amazon Glomp that would have put the most amorous of Amazons to shame.
"Momma," came a muffled cry, "get offa me. You're crushing me." This was quickly followed by a pint-sized foot to her shin.
Ranma rolled off her husband and son with an abashed look on her face. Marx smiled at his wife and son, as he got up. "It's good to be home," he said, as he helped his wife up. He waved to the smiling OSI agents, who then got in their cars and left.
"So what happened?" Ranma asked, as she shut the front door. Saburo ran upstairs to change out of his gi, and get cleaned up for dinner.
Marx looked at his young wife. Worry lines etched in her face intermingled with the faint scars from Genma's bungled attempt to train her (then him) in the Neko-ken. He knew she was going to ask him sooner or later. He was just glad it was now. "Beetle bought it when we closed on the bandit; they fired two missiles at us. He wasn't able to evade in time, or eject. I launched every missile I had on my plane, only to see them decoyed away.
"I closed to within gun range and opened fire with my cannon. They returned fire with their tail turret. So we shot each other down; I survived, they didn't." Marx continued his story, pausing only for dinner, which Ranma apologized for such simple fare. With Saburo tucked into bed, he resumed his tale out on the deck, the waterfall of the pond, the never ending traffic on Rt. 24, and the wind chimes creating dissonant background music for his tale.
Ranma sat, coffee cup in hand, listening to her husband weave his tale. Until a sudden sharp pain hit her. "Chris...I think...no, it's time. Get Saburo." Marx ran upstairs and grabbed their son. Even with the initial contractions, Ranma had to smile at her son's "Tenchi Nibonnoichi" pajamas her mother sent him for his birthday. Another wave of contractions hit her as they climbed into the minivan and headed for Minuteman Clinic, on the base.
Delivery, for Ranma, was easier this time around, but longer. Their second son was delivered after nearly twenty hours on the table. Not five minutes after Chris, Jr. was born, his sister wanted out. And for both Ranma and Nodoka Virginia, the delivery was mercifully short, but Ranma was exhausted. Dr. Morgan put her on extended bed rest and large bore IVs to replace lost nutrients.
With a phone call to the squadron by the attending ER doctor for Captain Marx, the squadron rushed to the clinic. They all congratulated him, and clustered around the nursery windows. "Hey guys," Marx said, "you're scaring the kids."
Col. Reed looked at his former executive officer. "Congratulations anyway, Captain. I've got to get these pirates back to work. By the way, what happened to your hand?"
Marx looked at the cast on his hand, and grinned sheepishly. "Ranma sort of crushed it while she was delivering Chris. After this, though, I'm getting fixed. I don't think I could have every bone in my hand broken a third time and not be crippled by it." Col Reed gave him an odd look. "It's a long story, sir."
"I...see. Paperwork's already filled out, so you're on leave until your hand's healed. Take care of your family, Marx."
"Yes sir. Thank you, sir.
-----
Hangar One
Morristown AFS
8 weeks later
Marx stood in formation with the rest of the assembled squadron and subordinate units in the main maintenance hangar. He glanced over to his wife, while listening to the wing commander talk. Ranma was being the perfect mother right now, playing the dutiful officer's wife. The twins were both quiet for the first time in eight weeks, thankfully. When one went down, the other would wake up, crying. They never ate at the same time and, when they had time to spar, their sparring showed that Ranma was about ready to kill her husband.
"Captain Marx—post."
He almost missed it, but snapped to attention and headed to where the General was. "Attention to orders. Special Order number 548, dated 1 June 2010. The President of the United States of America, recognizing the honor, fidelity, and ability for increased responsibility hereby promotes Captain Marx to the rank of Major, O-4.
"Will Mrs. Marx please come forward." Ranma stood, after giving the twins' stroller to her sister-in-law, and followed her mother-in-law up.
The General took his newest major's flight cap off, while Ranma and Marx's mother pinned his new rank on his uniform jacket.
"I wish your father was here to see this," his mother said as she hugged him.
"He is, Mom," Marx replied. "He is."
"Congratulations anata," Ranma said, as she kissed her husband.
With his wife and mother stepping off to the side, Marx did an about face, and received the applause of his peers, before returning to the formation. He barely got there when the adjutant called him back up. He reported again.
"For meritorious service as wingman, Captain Christopher Marx is awarded the Silver Star..." The General's adjutant read the citation as witnessed by one of the USS Enterprise's Hawkeye crews.
When she was finished, General Rodriguez stepped forward and pinned the award on Marx's left breast. "Congratulations again, Major. You are also authorized to paint a second star on your fighter," he said as he saluted.
Marx returned the salute. "Thank you, sir."