Fullmetal Alchemist Fan Fiction / Cowboy Bebop Fan Fiction ❯ Once More, With Pirates ❯ Doctor My Eyes ( Chapter 6 )

A/N: Padding word count. Yeeeesssss my presssssiousssss. This is a good thing; although I suppose I'm not moving the story forward very fast, am I? Ah, well. We have a bit of foreshadowing of smaller “events” to come. Decisions to be made, opportunities for at least one wish to come true, but will the “gift” be accepted? Did you think I was gunna tell you now?

Chapters: 6

Word Count, This Chapter: 3217

Word Count Total: 18,950

Words Left: 31,050

Doctor My Eyes

Doctor, my eyes have seen the years; And the slow parade of fears without crying; Now I want to understand; I have done all that I could; To see the evil and the good without hiding; You must help me if you can. Doctor my eyes; Tell me what is wrong; Was I unwise to leave them open for so long?As I've wandered through this world; And as each moment has unfurled; I've been waiting to awaken from these dreams; People go just where they will; I never notice them until I've got this feeling; That it's later than it seems. Doctor my eyes; Tell me what you see; I hear their cries; Just say if it's too late for me; Doctor my eyes; Cannot see the sky; Is this the prize for having learned how not to cry?-- Jackson Browne (Jackson Browne)

 

 

“I promise we won't be much longer,” Dr Crusher said to Fullmetal after he sighed for the ten-thousandth time. He was lying on the exam table in just a pair of shorts while she looked closely at his automail, and he was bored, hungry, and really tired of being poked and prodded. At least she hasn't tried to give me any shots, he thought.

 

He looked off to the side, and saw Edward watching the panel over his head with intense curiosity. He had no idea what the information on it meant, but she seemed to understand it. Of course, she comes from Spike's world, he thought. All this stuff isn't as weird to her.

 

Then again, she's sorta weird, herself. He started to snicker, but quickly attempted to cover it with a fake cough.

 

The Doctor glanced up from her scanner, and asked, “Are you alright?”

 

“Huh? Oh, yeah, I'm fine,” he said, and cleared his throat. “Just a little tickle. All that dust in the temple, you know.”

 

She glanced over at Edward and then back at him, with a knowing smile. He suddenly felt warmer than he did a minute ago. He sighed again, and groaned softly.

 

Crusher's hand jerked away from the scars on his shoulder where automail met flesh. “I'm sorry. Is that still tender?”

 

“Not really,” he said. “I mean, yeah. Sorta. But I don't really notice it anymore.”

 

She lifted his hand, and looked at it closely. “The workmanship is amazing. Lieutenant Havoc said your hand is fully articulated too.”

 

Fullmetal wiggled his fingers and turned his wrist to demonstrate. “Sure is,” he said. He grinned, and added, “Winry Rockbell is the best automail mechanic on the planet.”

 

“She's going to be sad when we get our bodies back though, Brother,” Al said. He'd taken up residence on the exam table next to his brother, and was somewhat adopted by Ein. He was looking down at the dog, gently stroking its head, and Fullmetal could swear the dog was smiling.

 

He thought about his childhood friend, and felt a bit wistful at the idea that she wouldn't be working on his automail one day. “Yeah, I guess she is,” he said.

 

He looked back up at the doctor, and saw her staring back at him thoughtfully. It looked as though she had something she wanted to say, but couldn't decide if she should say it, or not. “Is there something wrong, Doctor?”

 

She opened her mouth, then seemed to think better of the first thought, and closed it. Then she smiled and shook her head. “Not at all. In fact, we're through here.” She glanced up at the panel over his head and added, “And you appear to be quite human.”

 

As he sat up, he gave her an ironic look, and said, “I thought it seemed kinda obvious.”

 

She laughed softly and shook her head. “I mean `human', as opposed to Vulcan or Klingon. Your DNA.”

 

“Huh?”

 

“Deoxyribonucleic acid,” Edward sang, as she flopped her elbows on the exam table and looked up at him. “The double helix.” She tapped Fullmetal's arm and said, “Like a blueprint that makes you, you.”

 

Crusher looked up, and beyond Fullmetal. She smiled and said, “Speaking of Klingons. Hello Worf.”

 

He felt the whip-crack thrill of fear shoot through him at the mention of the alien's name, and tensed. But he saw the Doctor's look on her face when she saw him, and saw genuine affection there. Nobody here is afraid of him, he reminded himself. Besides, it was dark the first time I saw him. Maybe he's not so bad in the light. After about half a second of trying to convince himself that it was safe, he slowly turned.

 

He felt his chest grow tight and his skin prickle. Nope, he thought. He's just as frightening in the light.

 

He heard Ein yelp, and run off to hide somewhere, and Al's armor rattle once. But Worf was ignoring everything, and speaking only to the Doctor. “I've come here to relieve Lieutenant Havoc of his sidearm.” He looked around, but his eyes never landed on the children staring up at him. “I was told he was still here.”

 

Crusher tilted her head, gesturing behind her, to the darker section of Sick Bay. “He's asleep right now.” She looked back at Fullmetal, and smiled warmly down at him. “It's been a long day for everyone, it seems.” She turned her attention back to Worf, and said, “I'd rather not wake him right now, if you don't mind. I'll make sure he turns the gun over when he gets up.”

 

A silent stand-off between the doctor and Worf occurred, then. The alien's eyes narrowed, and became intense, while she just stared back unblinking, and perfectly calm. Then, almost as soon as it started, it was over; Worf's expression softened just a slight bit, and he nodded. “Notify me when he does, Doctor.”

 

“Of course.”

 

Fullmetal was suddenly far more intimidated by the gentle doctor, than he was by Worf. He stared at her, open-mouthed, but she just smiled down at him, that warm, gentle smile that was so comforting, and turned to set the hand-held scanner in a nearby drawer.

 

He heard Worf growl behind him, and an icy chill slid down his back. He spun, and saw the alien glaring down and baring his teeth. Fullmetal's eyes followed the stare to see Edward grinning up at Worf.

 

To Fullmetal's surprise, and Worf's shock, she suddenly wrapped herself around the alien's leg. He stumbled back a step and made an attempt to shake her off. Fullmetal was certain he was going to rip the girl to shreds any second, and wondered why the Doctor didn't save her. But just as suddenly, the Klingon's expression changed, to resignation, then to acceptance. His eyes crinkled, and he smiled. Smiled! Then he gently patted the girl on the head awkwardly.

 

Apparently that was what she wanted, because her grin widened, and she let him go. Fullmetal suddenly felt tension spill from his body, and he decided that the Klingon didn't look quite so frightening as he first thought. Just different, he thought. Like Leo and Rick are different because they're Ishballan, and they have those red eyes. Like… Al.

 

He looked over at his brother. Fullmetal thought of him as human, and not the least bit scary. Kindness in a can, he'd called him. He couldn't imagine anyone being afraid of the gentle soul wrapped in armor, but he was familiar with his brother. He tried to see him through different eyes, and knew that the seven foot tall suit of armor would intimidate anyone at first glance.

 

He felt Worf's eyes on him, and he looked up at him, no longer afraid. The Klingon's eyes crinkled again, and the boy realized that he understood.

 

“Fullmetal,” Worf said, “your lance is also in safekeeping until you leave.”

 

His mind went blank. Lance?

 

“The weapon I took from you when we first met,” Worf said.

 

Fullmetal remembered then. “Oh. That.” He grinned. “Heh. Keep it.”

 

Worf's eyes widened a little, then a new look crossed his face that the boy couldn't read. “It is… impressive. Very well balanced.” He gave him a slight bow and said, “I am honored.”

 

Fullmetal's brows shot up, it didn't seem like that big of a deal to him. “It's nothing,” he said. “Really.” He gave Worf a cock-eyed grin and added, “Nothing personal, but I kinda wanted to keep a little distance between us, when we met.”

 

Worf bared his teeth again, and said, “That was wise of you.”

 

Fullmetal realized that something had shifted between himself and the Klingon. It was no longer between a large intimidating alien adult and a child, but as equals. As warriors comparing strength and ability. He held steady in Worf's eyes, and smiled again. Then he clapped his hands and said, “This is what I prefer to fight with.”

 

There was a flash of blue as he slid his flesh hand over the metal one, and formed the short sword. Again, that unreadable look crossed Worf's face, and his eyes widened ever-so-slightly. He nodded, but said nothing.

 

On the other hand, Dr. Crusher was staring down at his hand in amazement. “How did you do that?” she asked. She gestured to his hand, clearly wanting a closer look, and he held it out to her.

 

“It's alchemy,” he said. He hesitated a moment while she turned his arm this way and that, then added, “I guess you guys don't use it, either.”

 

“The humans in this universe don't, no,” she said. “But we've met other races who were capable of some amazing things.” She suddenly jerked her hand back, and bright red welled up on her thumb.

 

“Careful,” Fullmetal said. “I make it sharp.”

 

“So I see,” she said. She turned to the table beside the bed, and grabbed a square of gauze. As she daubed at the cut on her thumb, Fullmetal returned his arm back to the way it was. A moment later, she faced him and asked, “Would you mind terribly if I ran a scan on you while you performed your alchemy?”

 

Fullmetal's face fell. He was firmly convinced that he was going to be trapped in Sick Bay for the rest of his life.

 

“Doctor, perhaps it can wait until later,” Worf said, watching the boy closely.

 

Crusher blinked, and colored slightly. “Of course.” She smiled down at Fullmetal, and added, “I apologize for keeping you here so long.”

 

The boy slid from the table and dashed off to get dressed again before she could change her mind. He was starving, and he wanted to see the rest of the ship. But mostly, he was starving.

 

0o0o0

 

 

Mustang sat near one of the wide ports, watching the stars shift from blue to red as the Enterprise streaked through space. Data had shown him to the guest quarters, and found him a change of clothes; although Mustang wouldn't exactly call it `found'. The android had assessed his size, spoke to a black panel on the wall in the main room, and they just appeared. He'd given Hughes and himself a quick run-down of the basic functions of the computers on the ship, and after a frustrating moment in ordering something to eat, Mustang discovered that using the machine was remarkably easy. He just had to remember to be precise.

 

Hughes couldn't wait to get some sleep after Data left, but Mustang was feeling insomnia coming on. He'd remembered Data mentioning a place on the ship called `Ten Forward', and after asking the computer where it was, he followed the markers.

 

He'd felt a bit foolish as he walked through the wide corridors, staring around him in wonderment. But he couldn't help himself; he knew he was only getting a hint of the enormity of the ship. It boggled his mind that something so large could be moving through space, and the only hint that they were moving, was when he looked out the port.

 

The Bebop seemed enormous when I first saw it, he thought. But it's tiny in comparison.

Will our world ever reach this point? he wondered. The idea seemed daunting, and a little frightening.

 

He sensed someone approaching, and looked up to see Riker with two drinks in his hand. “You looked like you needed a refill,” he said, and nodded at the empty glass under Mustang's hand.

 

He raised a brow when he looked down. He hadn't realized that it was empty. Riker set the glass of amber liquid down on the table near the Colonel's reach, and gestured to an empty seat. “Do you mind a little company?”

 

Mustang smiled a bit and nodded at the seat in invitation. They sat in silence for a bit and watched the stars fly past. Finally, Riker said, “Not too bad once you get used to it, is it?”

 

The other man tore his eyes from the port, and took a sip of the drink. “It's rather… hypnotic,” he said with a slight smile. He stared down into the drink for a moment. “I apologize. We must seem quite primitive to you.”

 

“Primitive?” Riker said. “Yes. But not stupid. Not beneath us. Just different.” He took a sip of his drink and looked around the lounge. “We might be centuries ahead of you in technology,” he said, then turned his attention back to Mustang, “but that doesn't mean there isn't anything we can't learn from you.”

 

Mustang raised a fine brow again, and smirked. “You've encountered Q before. I find it hard to believe we can show you anything he hasn't already.”

 

Riker smiled. “You'd be surprised.” He took another sip of his drink, and said, “Speaking of which; I just had a rather interesting conversation with our ship's engineer.” His smile spread into a wide grin. “Apparently Data has requested some temporary spec changes to one of our holodecks.”

 

“Oh?”

 

“Yes. Something to do with the air movement.”

 

Mustang chuckled. “I see.”

 

“I take it you know something about this?”

 

“Not that he was going to do anything about it, no,” Mustang said. “He said he was interested in seeing a `demonstration' of my alchemic specialty. Although…” he gave Riker a half smile. “I told him I doubted it would be advisable for me to do so on this ship.” He looked up, and made a circular gesture. “The air here is recycled. It could prove problematic.”

 

Riker raised a brow. “You could tell that?”

 

Mustang smirked. “Commander, my specialty is manipulating the oxygen content in the air. Manipulating gasses, in general, actually. I can see that it's recycled.”

 

Riker stared a moment. “I'm impressed.”

 

Mustang chuckled. “Now that impresses me.”

 

He brought the glass up to take a drink, then stopped about halfway. He lowered the glass, and raised a brow. Entering the lounge was the intimidating Klingon… with an entourage. The girl was practically hanging off of him, Fullmetal was talking animatedly to him, and Alphonse was following close behind. The dog was running circles around the group, and Mustang winced when it looked like it was going to get crushed underneath Worf's big boot; but it deftly avoided what could have been a catastrophe. It was an image that Mustang never, even in his wildest dreams, thought he would see. The most ferocious creature he'd ever seen outside of a nightmare he'd had once during a raging fever, was fielding questions from the children, and quite patiently.

 

He realized the look on his face was one of complete and utter shock, when Riker said, “Colonel? Are you alright?”

 

Mustang couldn't answer that. Not only could he not find his voice, but he wasn't all that certain if he was alright, or not.

 

He was vaguely aware that Riker had turned in his seat to see what had his attention, and heard him laugh. “Lieutenant Worf,” he said, when the Klingon reached the table. “It looks like you've developed a following.”

 

Worf responded with a barely audible growl and a glance down at Edward. Mustang reassessed his opinion of the Klingon's patience. He looked like he was reaching the end of it.

 

Riker looked up and said, “Alphonse, right?”

 

The armor bowed. “Yes, Sir.”

 

Riker stood, and offered a hand to Al. “I'm Commander Will Riker. It's a pleasure to meet you.”

 

Al hesitantly shook the Commander's hand and nervously said, “Thank you, Sir.”

 

Riker leaned conspirationally close to Al and said, “Would you do me a favor, and take Edward to get something to eat?” He gestured at the bar. “That nice woman with the big hat will be glad to help you out.”

 

“Uh… Which Edward, Sir?”

 

Riker's brows shot up, and he looked from the girl, to Fullmetal and back. Then he closed his eyes and shook his head. “This is liable to get confusing.”

 

“So far everyone has just settled with calling me Fullmetal, Sir.”

 

Riker smiled and nodded. “The girl Edward,” he said. “I'd like to have a word with Fullmetal for a moment.”

 

Al bowed again, and said, “I'll get you something too, Brother.”

 

The boy faced him, and smiled. “Thanks, Al.” Then he turned back to the people at the table, and his smile grew into a wicked grin. “Colonel Mustang. Isn't it past time for old fogies like you to be in bed?”

 

Mustang slowly raised a brow, but remained otherwise expressionless. “Actually, I was thinking that it was past time for small children to be tucked away with their teddy bears.”

 

The comment had the desired effect. He saw the fists clench, and the teeth begin to grind. Red crawled up Fullmetal's neck and his face. Mustang mentally counted down, 3… 2… 1…

 

“WHO'RE YOU CALLING SO SMALL THEY CAN'T BE SEEN WITH THE NAKED EYE!” He leaned forward at a precarious angle, and swung like a rabid weasel on too much caffeine, but never quite reached the Colonel. Worf had gripped the boy by his wide leather belt, and was hanging on tightly, while he and Riker watched the display with stunned amusement. It didn't dampen the boy's enthusiasm any, though. “I'M GUNNA BREAK OFF YOUR FEET AND STICK `EM ON YOUR HEAD, THEN WE'LL SEE WHO'S SHORT!”

 

When it finally dawned on the boy that he wasn't going to be making any contact with his target, he stopped struggling, but he was still seething. Mustang smirked. Mission accomplished.

 

After a moment of stunned silence, Riker looked up at Worf, and said, “Maybe Fullmetal should eat, too. I can ask my questions after he's done.”

 

Worf gave him an odd look, and nodded. “Aye, Sir.” Then he led the boy off; practically carrying him by the belt.

 

Riker turned back to Mustang and chuckled. “You did that on purpose.”

 

Mustang smirked into his drink, then said, “Of course.”