Fullmetal Alchemist Fan Fiction / Cowboy Bebop Fan Fiction ❯ Once More, With Pirates ❯ Break on Through ( Chapter 2 )

A/N: Warning: Spoiler Warning, of a sort. The Ed and Al inpart ofthis chapter are post-series, post-movie. Ready to be completely baffled? Yes, this is an older Ed and Al. “But wait,” you say. “Didn't they start time-tripping in the last story? When Al was still a suit of armor?”

 

Why yes. Yes they did. But you see, when one starts time-tripping, it's rather hard to stop, isn't it? -insert evil laugh here—

 

Actually, while it might appear that I've completely lost my mind, and gone right into AU to the point of no recovery, I haven't stumbled that far. And I'll attempt to keep it that way. But, well, you know… Stuff happens.

 

Chapters: 2

Word Count, This Chapter: 3537

Word Count Total: 6656

Words Left: 43,344

Moments of Insanity (Dares Used): 4

Number of Mimes Killed: Still just one

 

 

 

 

“Break on Through”

 

We chased our pleasures here; Dug our treasures there; But can you still recall; The time we cried; Break on through to the other side; Break on through to the other side - The Doors (“Break on Through” The Doors)

 

“A penguin?”

 

Spike rolled his eyes, and groaned. “Yes, Faye. A penguin. A very large penguin.”

 

“On Morocco Street?”

 

He glared at her, and her amusement only deepened. This only served to annoy him all the more. “Yes, Faye. On Morocco Street. How many times do I have to repeat it?”

 

“I've heard some good excuses for letting a bounty get the drop on you, Spike, but the penguin story has to be the best,” Faye said.

 

Jet leaned back in the couch, and crossed his arms. He chuckled low and said, “She's got a point there. That one has to be for the record books.”

 

Spike leaned his elbows on his thighs and brought his head down nearly to his knees. He clasped his hands behind the back of his neck, and groaned in frustration. He felt like he was in the hot seat, with Jet on one side of him, and Faye in the chair on the other. He knew it was stretching the boundaries of logic for that damned bird to be there; but did those two have to give him such a hard time about it?

 

This whole day is one for the record books, Spike thought. Sometimes I feel my life's just a crappy novel. I wonder when the editors start appearing.

 

He sighed and looked up at Jet. “The damn penguin isn't the point.”

 

Jet nodded, and became serious. “McKenna. Why's she here?”

 

“Excuse me,” Faye said. “But just who is this McKenna? And how did she just appear like that?”

 

Spike ignored her, and locked eyes with his partner. “There's something else, Jet.”

 

They'd been partners for long enough to be able to read each other's subtle clues, and he knew he had Jet's undivided attention now. “I saw Ed.”

 

Jet's eyes went wide, and he leaned forward on the couch. “Was he alone?”

 

“Hey! Ed who?” Faye prodded.

 

Spike shook his head. “There was someone else with him. Another kid; looked a few years younger than he was. Ed looked like he was about… I don't know, twenty-one? Twenty-two? Looks like he grew a couple of inches, too.” He smirked, then said, “Course, the kid with him was still taller.”

 

He leaned forward and added, “You could tell that they were related.”

 

“You think it was Alphonse?” Jet asked, as his brows shot up.

 

“I'd bet good money on it.”

 

“And I'd bet good money on McKenna being the reason they're here,” Jet said.

 

Faye growled and stomped up to Spike. She leaned down with her hands on her hips, and came nearly nose-to-nose with him. “Hel-lo? Who are these people and what the hell is going on here?”

 

Spike leaned back to a more comfortable distance, and glanced over at Jet. “I suppose we should tell her.”

 

Jet sat back on the couch, and waved a hand at Spike as if to say, be my guest.

 

Spike turned to Faye, and smirked. “You're gunna wanna sit down for this one.”

 

0o0o0

 

McKenna squatted on the roof of the tallest hotel overlooking the docks. It kept her low enough that she wouldn't be immediately noticeable if someone happened to look up, and out of the wind. She'd been in that position for over an hour watching the Bebop through the binoculars, and her knees and hips had gone beyond hurting, to numb.

 

She heard the door leading to the roof squeak, and a pair of footsteps treading softly on the tar and gravel coming her way. She didn't move. She knew who it was. The one set was uneven; one leg treading heavier than the other, and emitting a subtle metallic sound. The other was even, but slightly heavier than it should have been. Then she sensed the two boys kneel down on either side of her.

 

“Did you tell them?” Ed asked.

 

McKenna only then lowered the glasses, and shook her head. “It was too soon.”

 

Edward Elric grabbed her by the front of her shirt, and forced her to face him. His gold eyes were intense, and his brow was furrowed. “What do you mean `too soon'? It was supposed to happen this morning.”

 

She yanked his hand off of her, and sneered. “You saw what happened this morning, Edward. Spike wasn't even supposed to be on Morocco Street. Let alone that damned hit man.”

 

She got to her feet, and limped away from the edge of the roof. She kept her back to the boys, and stretched her arms over her head, trying to work out the kinks. The pins and needles sensation shot up her legs, and she felt her hips wanting to cramp. “If it weren't for that stupid bird, I would've never been able to catch up to him.”

 

Ed stood, and crossed over to her. He grabbed her arm, and spun her around to face him. McKenna was stuck once more by the fact that she no longer had to look down to meet his eyes. “If you're wrong about this—“

 

“I'm not,” she said. She jerked her hand free, and waved off in the distance. “You saw him leave the Bebop this morning. And you saw him follow my Doppelganger. I was right where I was supposed to be. He wasn't.”

 

“Then what happened?”

 

McKenna ran her fingers through her close-cropped hair, and closed her eyes. “I don't know.”

 

“Could someone else be interfering with the timeline?” Al asked. He'd remained sitting next to the edge of the roof, propping his back against the low knee-wall. He'd been so quiet, that the other two had nearly forgotten he was there, and they both started when he spoke.

 

Ed and McKenna looked at Al then back at each other, eyes widening. Ed's eyes hardened, and his jaw clenched. His whole body shook with barely controlled fury. “That son of a bitch is at it again.”

 

McKenna swallowed. She felt the blood drain from her face at the realization. “They're going to die,” she whispered.

 

“Not if I can help it,” Ed whispered, and ran to the roof entrance before McKenna could stop him.

 

 

0o0o0

 

Ed charged into the lounge of the Bebop without a second thought. “Spike! Jet!” he called. But the only response was an empty echo. He stood at the top landing, looking down at the unoccupied room, and felt a lead weight settle at the pit of his stomach.

 

He descended the stairs just as McKenna and Al caught up with him. On the table was an ashtray with a still lit cigarette smoldering among the crushed butts, and a battered-looking computer that had some sort of purple lightning pattern shifting across the screen.

 

“Brother?” Al said from the top of the stairs.

 

“They're not here,” Ed said, as he stared around the lounge.

 

“Gone--” a hollow voice said from the computer, and Ed jumped back like a startled cat.

 

“What the hell?”

 

“All. Gone,” the computer said again.

 

Al and McKenna had joined Ed down in the lower section of the lounge, and stared at the computer.

 

“What—“ Ed said. “Who are you?”

 

“I am designated M-PU,” the computer responded.

 

“Em-Pyu?” Al asked.

 

“Yes,” the computer said. “That is the designation Ed gave me.”

 

“Huh?”

 

Ed smirked, and looked up at his brother. “Not me. Radical Edward. Remember? I told you about her.”

 

“Oh, yeah,” Al said, and ducked his head.

 

Not before Ed saw the fierce blush color his younger brother's face though.

 

“Maybe it is a good thing I don't remember what happened,” Al said.

 

Ed turned back to the computer. “M-PU, do you know where everyone went?”

 

“Gone,” M-PU said. “They were here. Now they are gone.”

 

Ed groaned, and rubbed his forehead. He could feel a headache coming on, and talking in circles with a computer was only going to make it worse.

 

Something tickled the back of his memory. A male voice; rich and laced with good humour. The computer can only do what you tell it to do, Ed. It'll work, if you ask the right questions.

 

“M-PU,” Ed said. “How did they leave? Did they just walk out?”

 

“No. Not walk,” M-PU said. “They were. Deleted.”

 

He heard Al gasp behind him. “You mean they disappeared?”

 

“Yes. Disappeared. Deleted.”

 

Ed looked back at McKenna and Al. “So it's started.”

 

“What do we do now?” Al asked.

 

“We wait,” McKenna said.

 

Ed flopped down on the couch, and spread his arms across the back. “That's all we can do. And hope their story matches ours.”

 

0o0o0

 

Mustang blinked, and raised his arm to protect his eyes from the fiercely blowing sands. His mind raced as he tried to figure out what had just happened. One moment, he was watching Spike disentangle himself from the weighted net, and struggling to keep from laughing; and the next instant, he was standing in a featureless plain of sand and wind.

 

His soldier's instincts took over and without thinking, he pulled out a spare pair of gloves from his back pocket. What he wanted to do, was look around, and figure out just where the hell he was, but the blowing sand was cutting his visibility to near zero.

 

“Roy,” he heard the familiar voice of Hughes yelling over the wind. An instant later, he felt a hand on his shoulder, but didn't start. The touch was familiar.

 

“Maes,” he said. “Where…”

 

“No idea.”

 

“Is there anyone else—“ Mustang stopped when he saw a large dark form take shape in the blasting sandstorm. As it grew in size and came closer, the form became identifiable, and became three. Alphonse was the easiest form to identify, then Fullmetal. But he couldn't tell the third was Havoc until they were all together.

 

“Is there anyone else?” Mustang repeated.

 

“Not as far as we can tell, Sir,” Havoc said.

 

Mustang looked around as best as he was able. “We need to find shelter.”

 

Havoc gripped his shoulder, and pointed behind the Colonel. “That looks like a possibility,” he said.

 

Mustang turned, and saw a huge dark form. “Let's get going, then.”

 

The hulking shadow turned out to be a burned-out building half buried in the sand. There was no door, and the party had to climb in through the window. Mustang took point, and shimmied in, feet first. He held onto the crumbling frame a moment, while his feet dangled in the air, but he found no purchase.

 

He spared a glance down, but the floor was either too far away, or shrouded in darkness. He took a deep breath, and let go. He hit a pile of sand that had built up against the wall and lost his footing. He stumbled and slid down the hill and came to a sudden stop on his ass, his hands slapping down on cold tile. Mustang blinked a few times to clear his vision, and looked up at the window as Havoc poked his head in.

 

“You alright down there?”

 

The Colonel got to his feet, and dusted himself off. The echo of Havoc's query faded slowly, and it told Mustang that the room was quite large. He looked around, but saw little beyond the shaft of weak light the window offered. He silently hoped that they were the only people occupying the space. “Just fine, Lieutenant. There's a sand pile right at the wall, so the drop isn't very far.”

 

“Gotcha,” Havoc said, then disappeared.

 

Mustang watched as first Ed, then Al came through; the suit of armor having some difficulty because of his size, but fortunately not enough to get him stuck. After they were in, and on solid ground, Hughes and Havoc dropped in.

 

At this point, Mustang's eyes had grown dark-adapted, but there were still no details to be picked out. He reached his hand over his head, and snapped his fingers. The resultant fireball briefly illuminated the room long enough for him to see just how large it was, and how blessedly empty it was.

 

He stepped forward, and his boot hit something on the floor. He knelt down, and felt for it, pleased to discover it was a good-sized chunk of wood. He lifted it, and snapped his fingers once more. The wood caught, and they had some light. The dancing, flickering light caught the hint of something on a nearby wall, and Mustang stepped carefully over the scattered debris to get a closer look.

 

“Any idea where we are, Boss?” he heard Havoc ask.

 

Mustang slowly waved the torch across the faded mural, and raised a brow.

 

Before he could say anything, he felt the short hairs on the back of his neck raise, and knew they were no longer the only people in the room. At the same instant, he heard Ed's clap, and caught the blue light of the boy's alchemy from the corner of his eye, and heard Havoc pull his handgun.

 

He spun, searching the darkness. His people were close together, and all facing the same direction. Havoc aiming his gun into the darkness, Hughes had one of his throwing knives ready, and Al in a defensive stance. He couldn't see Ed clearly, but caught movement, and a glint of metal caught the torchlight.

 

An instant later, the boy had stumbled backwards on the sand, and fell into the weak shaft of light from the window. He face was pale and his eyes wide in abject terror, but the lance he made didn't waver.

 

A hulking figure advanced on the boy, and Mustang snapped his fingers, sending a ball of flame at the assailant in warning. The brief look he got of the figure was of a snarling creature that was most definitely not human. Chimera? he wondered.

 

“Lieutenant Worf, stand down,” a commanding voice shot from the darkness. The creature stopped his advance on Edward, but yanked the lance from his terror-weakened hands.

 

Three more figures stepped from the deep shadows, their hands away from their sides, their palms exposed. One of them was tall, thin and bald, the other had more bulk on him, and more hair, but Mustang assumed by his position behind the bald one, he wasn't in command. The third looked strange, with pallid skin, and a strange lack of expression. With the exception of the pallid one, they all wore the same uniform of red and black. Including the one that had been called Worf.

 

Mustang heard Havoc pull the hammer back on his gun, and he snapped, “Belay that, Lieutenant. They're unarmed.”

 

“Sir,” he said, and eased the hammer back into place as he lowered the weapon.

 

“Who are you,” Mustang asked. “Did you have something to do with bringing us here?”

 

The balding one stepped forward cautiously. “I am Captain Jean-Luc Picard.” He slowly lowered his hands, and Mustang watched closely. “And I'm afraid your arrival here is as much a mystery as our own.”

 

At that moment, the air between the two groups distorted, and three more people appeared. Instantly, the three of them backed up to each other and pulled their guns. Mustang recognized them instantly, and almost smiled. “I think you can lower your guns, gentlemen.” He caught a better look at the third member of the party, and did smile. “And Lady.”

 

Spike blinked, and goggled. “Mustang?”

 

“Indeed.”

 

Jet was scowling, and searching the darkness. “Where's Ed?”

 

“Right here,” the older Elric brother said, as he picked himself up off the sand pile. He cast a cautious, worried glance over his shoulder as he joined his brother's side. But Mustang noticed that Worf remained where he was covered in the shadows.

 

Jet did a slight double take, then said, “Er… I meant the other Ed.”

 

A small form with a shock of red hair and wide, wondering eyes peeked cautiously from behind Alphonse, and said, softly, “Ed is here.”

 

The suit of armor started at the sound, and took a step to the side, nearly bowling over his brother, and sending a streak of tan fur yelping to the Bebop crew. The little dog cowered down at Jet's feet, and the older man looked down. “You're alright, Ein. Al's a friend.”

 

The dog barked once, then cocked his head to the side, while he stared at Alphonse.

 

At that instant, both Havoc and Hughes slipped over to the wall, on either side of the window, and that was when Mustang heard the scuffling sound of someone climbing through. A pair of feet shot through the window, toes up, followed by the rest of the body, as a figure in worn black pants and a faded yellow jacket dropped down to the pile of sand.

 

As soon as he was fully in, Havoc pressed the barrel of his gun to the man's head, and Hughes had a knife against his throat. Mustang noticed that both Spike, and Jet were also pointing guns at the new arrival.

 

Ed alchemized his automail arm into a short sword, and Mustang caught movement in the shadows where Worf was hovering. The glint of light hitting the pointed end of the lance he'd relieved Edward from told him that the strange Lieutenant, was prepared to fight.

 

The new arrival ignored the gun and the knife pressed against him, as his eyes settled on Mustang. He remained crouched, but a cold smile spread across his face. “Flame Alchemist Roy Mustang. It must be divine providence that I should find you here, of all places.”

 

Mustang's suspicions as to their location were confirmed. “Scar.”

 

Scar slowly got to his feet, and hammers were cocked back all around. He smirked, then in a whirl grabbed Hughes, and threw him into Havoc, sending them both tumbling down the pile of sand. “This does not concern you,” he said to them, and started to advance on Mustang. The alchemic tattoos on his arm began to glow; illuminating the sleeve that covered them.

 

“You think you're going to get through all of us, Scar?” Spike asked, leveling his gun at the Ishballan, and moving to put himself between the two. Jet was right beside him.

 

A blue-white needle beam of light arced out of the darkness where Worf had remained, and hit Scar right in the chest. The Ishballan fell back into the sand, unconscious.

 

Mustang spun on the strangers, and scowled. “I thought you were unarmed.”

 

Picard came a few steps closer to Mustang, and nodded toward the hulking figure remaining in the shadows. “Lieutenant Worf is my Security Officer. He's the only one who is armed.” He turned his attention to the unconscious man, and asked. “Who was that?”

 

“We only know him as Scar,” Mustang said. “He's been killing State Alchemists.” Edward joined them, and Mustang took some pleasure at the expression on Picard's face when the boy returned the automail arm back to normal. “Edward Elric, Captain Picard. Also known as the Fullmetal Alchemist. And I'm Colonel Roy Mustang. The Flame Alchemist.

 

“And I now know where we are. But why remains a mystery.”

 

The bearded man joined Picard, and leaned down. He said softly, “Captain, this has the reek of Q all over it.”

 

Picard nodded. And as he opened his mouth to respond, the sound of a single person clapping slowly came out of the darkness. Everyone turned to where the sound came from, and found McKenna standing alone in the shaft of weak light from the window looking stunned and confused.

 

Jet stalked up to her, and pressed his gun to her forehead. “McKenna,” he growled. “Why the hell are you playing games with us again?”

 

Her eyes went wide, her mouth fell open, but no sound came out, and she didn't move.

 

A new form peeled itself from the shadows behind her. Dressed in the uniform of the State, with a silver chain on the belt-loop. But this was no Alchemist Mustang was familiar with. His eyes danced, and he had a petulant mouth. And his whole posture screamed trouble to the Colonel.

 

“Q,” Picard spat.

 

Q smirked and looked around at the gathering. “Well, now that everyone's here, let's get the party started, shall we?”