What is your legacy? When death comes, what will you leave behind?

Falco stands on the balcony and stares at the city. Well, not the city so much as the backs of the ghettoish apartments comprising their neighborhood. Sees the clotheslines reaching from flat to flat below, strung above the streets lined with trash.

It's dark, past midnight. Something about all the blackness soothes him. The sky is clear, no clouds. Beside Corneria's waxing moon, two tiny spheres: Katina next to Fortuna. At this distance, the planets appear discrete, unassuming. To think that they'd once housed such bloodshed.

I've been there.

Falco knocks back a swig of cold beer. Last can in the fridge. Condensation has formed on the aluminum surface, wet against his wing.

Above, the constellations glimmer. He'd counted on them ever since Academy days, as guides. Real pilots doesn't rely on a compass. They just look up at the stars, and know.

A breeze lifts. Below, a few trees rustle. He's in just tank and shorts. The wind saps the heat from his body, lapping it up most greedily. He doesn't shiver. His body protests, but that's the thrill of it. The temperature swing from day to night, that's his favorite part about autumn.

He'd always thought that he'd die in space. Okay – lie – once, he thought that death was impossible. But if forced to choose, he'd die in space. That's what he'd believed. But now, here he was. Rotting. It's just like death, to be pent up in Corneria this way.

Why don't you go back to the military. Get licensed as an instructor or something. Fox did that.

Why don't you try your hand at air-racing. There's real cash in there. You've got what it takes, to maneuver those dainty little things.

Civilian ships need pilots, too. From cargo transport to research trips, you've got lots to choose from. With all that airtime clocked in, you'd be a real asset. Besides, you're still young. There's time.

Why don't you –

Tips back the can. Nothing comes out. He hurls the can, aiming at the skyline. Moments later, a distant clatter. Up in the sky, the planets and stars are twinkling. No, it's just an illusion – a warping of the light by physics. Still, they wink, beckoning him.

Sure, you'll do all that or whatever. Just know that it's temporary. And once the money comes trickling in, it accumulates. You've never been a big spender, either. Before you know it, you'll be rolling in banknotes.

And once you've got that money, really got enough – you'll get yourself a new ship. The army's been renewing their fleet ever since the war ended. Maybe they'll sell you an old bird for cheap. Heck, even if they don't sell, you've got other connections. To pilots or ex-pilots. There's got to be a flight-worthy bird you can snatch for a steal, somewhere. She won't be Arwing or Sky Claw, but she'll be in a whole class of her own.

Heck, she doesn't even have to come to you in one piece. Slippy old pal's as bright as they come. He can fix up the darnedest stuff that even you'd get stumped on, like G-Diffusers. Just provide him the cores, and he'll get her up in the air in no time. Amanda's nice, wouldn't mind lending Slip to you for a while.

And Fox – though he keeps saying he won't fly– you're best buds. Heck, you and Fox survived a whole fucking war together. He'll want to support you, right? Okay, fine, maybe there's the whole family thing–

Falco's wing wraps into a fist –

Okay, whatever if he doesn't want to fly. There are scores of other aces out there. You've just got to find them. No, not the spoiled little brats they churn out of the Academy these days. You're having none of that. You want heroes, those who've tasted war. Veterans like you, who knows what's worth fighting for–

As for Katt, even if she's against the whole fighting again thing– even if she's gonna bicker for days–

You'll convince her. She'll have no choice but to back you up.

You're still young. There's time. You've got a dream, kiddo. And they need you. Lylat has always needed you. So go on out there, make it happen. If war's taught you one thing, it's that you can conquer stars. See how they shine, up there? They shine for you. Your place is up there, along with the stars…

"Can't… sleep?"

Falco turns around with a jolt.

Through the mesh screen, he finds Katt stretched lazily across the bed, one arm having just invaded his side of the mattress. Eyes wide and bright. His share of the covers folded back, draped over her figure.

"Fucking… freezing."

Grudgingly, Falco makes his way through the sliding glass door, which he'd only closed halfway. Remains silent as he climbs into his side of the bed. Says nothing about the sleepless nights before this one, or the others sure to come. Although his head's on the pillow, his mind's still up in space.

Suddenly, a paw reaches his way. Warm against his neck, whose heat the air had just so greedily stolen. Katt pulls him in, her body blazing hot under the protective covers. Falco feels the full of her weight, pressing insistently against him. He leans into the embrace. He lands.