Author's Note: -happy tears- Finally, I write for this section! For one of my two original fandoms XD. So uh, sup? I'm Razer Athane, I've been a fan of the Star Fox Series for over ten years. My fave character always has and always will be Falco, who is, obviously, the subject of this oneshot. I rarely venture here, sadly, because I'm much more active in the Tekken fandom at the moment.

I wrote this on an absolute whim. I really don't know why I did, but I do like how it turned out. It's one of those reflective oneshots. I tend to shift tense a lot in this too, because he's trying to remember. So, I hope you guys enjoy it. Oh, also! If you guys have a oneshot that you think would be an awesome read, then do let me know as I'd like to be coming here more often XD. I'd like to recommend to you guys, though, for all you Falco fans out there (and non-Falco fans!) "The Behemoth: Falco's Story" by Green Hat. A multichap, a long read, but it's seriously the best fanfic I've ever read across any genre.

Bleh, enough of my babbling. Enjoy!


Falco finally has a theory.

He's wandering the streets of this unknown planet when it suddenly hits him in the face. It hits him with such force that he has to stop walking, look around in the dark night, and make a beeline from that nice alleyway over there to that hill in the corner of his right eye that suddenly appeared. His hands are stuffed deep into his red pockets as his makes the ascent, looking up at the stars.

Running – he's always running.

He had enough, that very first time. It was her that made him leave. Her idiocy made him cringe with disgust, and he wished it would've been different, because maybe then, things would be different. He did – does – care about Katt, but there's parts of her that made – make him want to hide alone until she either matures or until he understands how to handle it. That's why he left. She had no common sense in those days, and he couldn't cope anymore. To leave was the best defence.

When he left them – Fox and Peppy and Slippy and ROB – for the first time, it's because he wants to be alone for a while. They merely smiled and bid him farewell, even a wave from Katt after helping out with that Captain Shears incident, and then he took off. He didn't know how long he flew for. Days, at least. Weeks, most likely. Months, perhaps. Years was possible, too. It felt like he'd been stuck, just aimlessly drifting and wandering from place to place, between here and there, from nothing to something and then back again.

That's when he first thought that he might've had a problem.

He'd been drifting still when he saw a huge disturbance on the Dinosaur Planet – or, Sauria, as he later learnt – and he flew over to check out what the problem was, and immediately went to assist the Arwing – he didn't need someone to tell him what that ship was, because he fuckin' knew – caught in the middle of the battle. He furrows his eyebrows with distaste when he remembers seeing Andross again, two-faced and all – literally; and looks at that particular star, shining brightly directly above him, as though it's beckoning him or speaking to him.

He remembered lifting up his favourite sunglasses and peering down at Fox, asking to come back. He remembered meeting Krystal and the look in Fox's eyes whenever he looked at her. He remembered Peppy's small nod, he remembered Slippy's wide smile, and he remembered ROB's monotonous voice. He remembered acceptance and recognition.

The days went slow, then. He'd hole himself up in his room, stare at the ceiling and think on why he wasn't happy with people, and why he wasn't happy being alone. The thoughts made him darker, more pessimistic than usual. He didn't doubt that they noticed. He didn't doubt that they thought of ways to make him portray that lopsided grin again. What he didn't understand, though, was why he would turn away from them whenever they were about to try – they never even got the chance to tell that joke or show him that magazine. He just set out to do those smaller missions that came by with the others – protect this, destroy that. He felt confused. Conflicted, even.

He sits on the grass and remembers feeling trapped, and not understanding why.

As he did those little tasks in those days, Falco began to think more and more on what could be wrong with him. Fear of socialisation? No, no way – he might've had the mask of an asshole, he might've acted like he didn't care, but he did, and he thrived off of both their companionship and their silence. Fear of being alone? Most definitely not, because he loved to be alone as much as he loved being around people. He tried to understand, but he could never get any closer.

After the Aparoids, he took off again – leaving them all behind, claming he was bored – and began to do smaller, remedial jobs on numerous planets to get by. He wanted those thrills again, ones that he couldn't have when he was with them. But as he went through those stages, he realised that his life without them was becoming empty, and that he missed other thrills.

He can never have what he really wants. A life full of adventure and giddy thrills that make his head spin – that make him feel like he's always flying – running away – running to – just soaring.

The Avian exhales sharply, pursing his beak in thought and resting his long arms over his knees. On the one wing, there's life with them. It's funny. It's adventurous. It's tame. It's enjoyable. It's exciting. It's simple, even. On the other wing, there's life like this – alone and becoming empty. It's usually stable. It can be adventurous. It's not at all tame. It's enjoyable. It's exciting in a different manner. It's also simple. So many common parts in the two lives he has, and he can't join them up and make them stick together, like the jigsaw puzzles he was horrible at as a child.

If he's with them, someone's always watching his back. If he's with them, he knows how he'll be. If he's with them, there's always a home to come back to. If he's with them, he has a family. If he's with them, at the end of the day, he's always gonna fuckin' smile. He's always gonna be happy, even if it takes picking on Slippy to get it to happen. He's better that way – he wants it that way.

If he's alone, then he's only got himself as cover. If he's alone, he's unpredictable. If he's alone, he might not always have a home. If he's alone, he's feared. If he's alone, he's always gonna fuckin' scowl. He's always gonna be withdrawn, like he naturally is, and nobody would be able to get him out of his recluse state. He's better this way – he wants it this way.

It's when he was going down that long alley, all alone as always, and looking up at the neon light did it hit him and make him sit on this hill, looking up to the stars, wondering how they are and what they're doing and why he wants to go back now, when he's enjoying his time alone and away from them. He realises that if he switches places again and is with them, he'll miss being there, in that alley, just walking in the night.

He's a greedy wanderer. He can never stay in one place for too long.

And for the first time in his life, he's not afraid to admit that it terrifies him.