Fullmetal Alchemist Fan Fiction / Cowboy Bebop Fan Fiction ❯ Once More, With Pirates ❯ Going Under ( Chapter 12 )

A/N: Urgh. Sorry about slowing down, there. But now things are going to pick up in the story.

 

Chapters: 12

Word Count, This Chapter: 3096

Word Count Total: 35,001

Words Left: 14,999

 

 

 

 

Going Under

 

Blurring and stirring the truth and the lies; So I don't know what's real and what's not; Always confusing the thoughts in my head; So I can't trust myself anymore - Evanescence (Going Under single)

 

Hughes leaned against the wall next to the door in the common room of the guest suite. He sighed and examined his fingernails for the thousandth time. “Jean? Are you coming, or not?” he said.

 

“Just a minute!” Havoc called from the other room. “Jeeze, you can't rush perfection, here.”

 

Hughes just rolled his eyes, and shook his head with a smile. “If you're trying for perfection, we'll be here forever.”

 

“Hey,” Havoc said, sounding affronted as he came out of the room. He was dressed in black slacks and a charcoal jacket, and he'd managed to defy gravity with his bangs once more.

 

“At least you clean up fairly well,” Hughes said, and started for the door.

 

“Wait,” Havoc said, and Hughes turned back to him, slightly irritated.

 

Havoc turned around, and pulled the back of the jacket up. “Do these pants make my butt look big?”

 

Hughes groaned, and triggered the door. “Let's go, Jean.”

 

He turned to the open door, and nearly collided with Mustang. He gasped and stepped back. He knew that haunted look in his best friend's eyes. He'd seen it more times than he cared to count after Ishbal, when he'd had to hold his friend…his brother, while he shook, and cried through the horrors of flashbacks. “Roy?”

 

“I'm fine, Maes,” Mustang said as he came the rest of the way in.

 

“You don't lie worth a shit,” Hughes said. “What happened?”

 

Mustang stopped midway between his room and the door; his back to Hughes and Havoc. He stared down and the floor in silence, with shoulders sagged, and hands in his pockets.

 

“I… had a visit from Q a little bit ago. Nothing to worry about,” he finally said.

 

Hughes came up behind Mustang, and laid a hand on his shoulder. He felt the man tense then instantly relax. “Bullshit, Roy,” he said softly. “It isn't `nothing'. I was there when he blew up Alphonse, too. That man… that thing… whatever he is; knows how to pick out our weaknesses, and do a tap dance on our psyches. And it looks like he just did a number on you with four-part harmony.”

 

Mustang looked up and turned just enough to look at his friend from the corner of his eye. A slight, small smile tugged at his lips. “Do you have any more music metaphors?” he asked.

 

Hughes let go of Mustang's shoulder, and chuckled softly. “Come with us to Ten-Forward. I'll share all of them with you.”

 

Mustang's smile became a little warmer, and he nodded. “Let me get cleaned up, first. You go ahead.”

 

Hughes studied his friend's face a moment. He knew Roy would be fine for now. He clapped Mustang on the shoulder, and headed for the door with Havoc.

 

Just as the door slid open, Mustang faced the two men and said, “A word of advice?” They stopped, and looked at him. He smirked. “Don't order the Gagh.”

 

Without elaborating he went into his room, and closed the door.

 

Hughes and Havoc stared at each other. Confusion furrowed Maes' brow; Havoc just shrugged, disinterested. “I don't care what it's called. I'm hungry.”

 

0o0o0

 

Hughes and Havoc were long gone when the shaking finally overtook Mustang. It started as a mere tremor, making his knees feel weak and wobbly. He pressed his hands against the wall of the shower, and leaned forward while hot rain poured down his back, and waited for the moment to pass.

 

But the moment refused to pass. He blinked the water out of his eyes, and as soon as they closed, images flashed. Blood and flames. Destruction. He panted through gritted teeth, and prayed to a God he didn't believe in for the flashbacks to pass quickly.

 

Please, he prayed. Not now. Let it wait until we get home. I'll take time off, and just let these nightmares take over until they run their course, but Dear God, stop it now.

 

The tremors became a hard shaking, like a drunk with the DTs. Mustang fell back against the rear wall of the shower, and slid down to the floor. One hand blindly groped for the side of the tub, and gripped it so tight his knuckles whitened. The other slapped up against the wall beside him, and he drew his knees up to his chest. Unconsciously, he pushed back, as though trying to move further from the nightmare images that washed over him.

 

He ground his teeth, and a low moan escaped his lips as he was flooded with the images of women and children, dead in the dusty streets of Ishbal; their red eyes fogged over as their lives fled them. Blood. So much blood. He never realized just how much blood the human body held, until it was fatally spilled. Blood in the streets; on his clothes. On his hands. Big guns in small brown hands; pregnant women shot through the abdomen, killing two at once. Faces of friends and comrades, long gone. Shot, or throats slit. A ring with a red stone… alchemic enhancement; a village leveled in a firestorm in an instant. An ordered execution of two doctors who committed the crime of treating everyone equally. His own fingers on the trigger. A bloody hand falling onto a photograph of a young blonde girl.

 

The flood passed, the shaking slowed, and Mustang opened his eyes. He raised his head, and rested it against the wall. Bitter tears mingled with water and it was difficult to tell which was hotter.

 

0o0o0

 

Spike escorted Fullmetal into the center of controlled mayhem. It looked like an explosion of blue and black uniforms buzzing around the sickbay, setting up equipment, giving orders; short, terse responses. If the confusion had a pattern, Spike couldn't see it. He looked around, wondering what was going on. None of the beds were occupied, but the activity had all the earmarks of a major medical emergency.

 

Fullmetal pointed out a tall redhead in the sea of faces, and Spike led him up to her. She hadn't even noticed them, as she was directing traffic and equipment. “No, I need that set up in Lab 2, please,” she said to a young man with a greenish tint to his skin and elfin ears.

 

“Dr. Crusher?” Spike asked.

 

She spun and gave him an uncomprehending look. Then recognition flooded her face, and she smiled up at him, “You're Spike Spiegel, right?” Then her eyes traveled down to Fullmetal, and the smile instantly disappeared. “Oh dear.”

 

She guided the boy to the nearest exam table and as soon as he was on it, she gingerly lowered the ruined tank top he was using to staunch the flow of blood from his nose. Her brows shot up, and she gave him a mild look. “Impressive. What happened?”

 

“He had a run-in with a sparring program in the gym,” Spike said.

 

Crusher scowled as she examined the boy's swollen and purpling nose. “Weren't you wearing a safety mask?”

 

The boy shot a narrow-eyed, withering glare at Spike.

 

Spike just raised a brow, but was otherwise expressionless.

 

That was, until Crusher caught the silent communication between the two, and looked at him archly.

 

There was nothing overt in her look. In fact it was quite mild as far as dirty looks went in Spike's experience; but he suddenly had an overwhelming desire to shrink and crawl into a hole, just to escape it. He felt the sweat break out on his forehead, and a growing heat flush his bare chest and face. He started to fidget and scratch the back of his head. He stammered incoherently.

 

He couldn't miss the look of amusement on the boy's face, and he had a feeling Fullmetal had seen this look from the Doctor before.

 

“You were with him, why didn't you make him wear the safety equipment?” she asked.

 

“Uh…well…”

 

“You are the adult here, I would expect you to be more responsible for this child's protection.”

 

“Hey,” Fullmetal protested. “I'm not a—“

 

She turned her attention on him, and he shrank back, color rising in his cheeks, and eyes going wide. “Yes, Ma'am,” he said meekly.

 

She turned away from the pair long enough to get something from a nearby drawer, and they exchanged a glance. Spike shrugged, still feeling a little warm; and the boy smirked.

 

Crusher turned back to Fullmetal with a small object in her hand. She turned it on, and it made a low warbling sound. She started to aim it right at the boy's nose, and he lurched back, suspicious. She smiled warmly, and said, “It won't hurt. I promise.”

 

A soft reddish light flowed from the small machine, spread across the boy's nose, and bathed it in a warm glow. Spike watched in fascination as Fullmetal's nose rapidly healed.

 

The fidgeting started subtly, with just the boy's fingers anxiously tapping a rhythm on the side of the exam table, but it soon spread through his entire body, and no matter how hard he tried to hold still, he couldn't. His cheeks started twitching, and it rapidly spread to wriggling his nose. Crusher stepped back and said, “You need to hold still, Edward.”

 

“It itches,” the boy protested.

 

“That's because the bone is knitting. But if you keep fidgeting, it'll knit crooked, and I doubt you want that.”

 

He blinked and jerked his head back. “Knitting?” he asked. “You mean it's broken?” He cast a significant glare at Spike, who was now standing behind the Doctor.

 

Spike watched over her shoulder as she repaired Fullmetal's nose, and smirked. “You're the one who went on the offensive.”

 

Crusher shut off the bone-knitter and appraised her handiwork. “The swelling should be gone in a day or two. But from now on, wear the safety equipment.”

 

“Yes'm,” the boy said, meekly.

 

She faced Spike, and her eyes fell on the numerous scars adorning his chest and abdomen. Her brows slowly climbed up as she took inventory of each and every injury he'd ever suffered. He suddenly felt very naked, and his hand went automatically to the large one across his abdomen.

 

Her expression softened, and she said, “If you want, we can get rid of those.”

 

He looked down at the collection that marked him. Each injury, each scar had a memory attached to it. Some more memorable than others, but significant all the same. A part of him found the idea of his skin being whole and unmarked again attractive; but a bigger part rebelled at the idea. If the scars were taken away, then a part of his past… a part of him would be missing. He smiled a little when he brushed his hand across the jagged marks on his ribs. Marks left by a chimera. He glanced up at Fullmetal, and saw that the boy was looking at the same set, and understanding.

 

“Thanks for the offer, Doc,” Spike said. “But if it's all the same to you… I think I'll keep them.”

 

A crash of dropped equipment, and a startled noise behind her stopped any comment she might have had, and the three of them turned to see what the commotion was. A young Physician's assistant was backing up toward the exam table; her mouth was working, but no sound came out, as she stared up in shock.

 

Spike grinned, and felt a bit of sympathy for the girl. Having a seven foot tall mediaeval suit of armor come walking into the sick bay without warning was going to be a memorable moment for her. “Hey, Al,” he said.

 

The armor stood in the center of the sick bay with his hands clasped nervously in front of him, and making a vain attempt to shrink.

 

Crusher rested a gentle hand on the PA's shoulder and the girl nearly jumped out of her skin. “It's alright, Sandra.”

 

The girl looked at Crusher, and colored deeply. “I'm sorry, Dr. Crusher. I wasn't expecting…” She looked back at Al and ran out of words.

 

“You don't have to be afraid of Al,” Fullmetal said with a wide grin, as his brother joined him. “He's the hero of wet kittens and small children everywhere.” He casually rapped his knuckles on the chest-plate and added. “Kindness in a can.”

 

A short, sharp bark erupted from the armor in response to the light knock, and everyone stared. Fullmetal's eyes narrowed, and he peered closely at his brother, which only served to make the armor fidget, and rub nervously at the back of his neck.

 

“Al,” Fullmetal said, “why did your stomach just bark?”

 

Another small sound came from the vicinity of Al's stomach that sounded suspiciously like a girl's giggle. Fullmetal's head jerked back as though he was about to be bitten, and his brows disappeared into his bangs. Spike's eyes narrowed, and he unbuckled the straps on the chest plate.

 

“Spike-person!” A blur of red, white and black sprung from inside the armor cavity, and latched onto Spike with long limbs.

 

“Gah!” he blurted, as he was sent pinwheeling back, and slammed into the nearby wall with the force of the attack. At the same time, Ein pounced onto the exam table and commenced to barking enthusiastically.

 

All other activity in sick bay came to a screeching halt.

 

Ed squealed in demented delight, as the normally graceful man waved his arms in an unsuccessful attempt to keep his balance. He gave up, and attempted to peel the girl off of him, instead. He struggled to stay upright, but the unexpected weight-gain was making his knees wobble, and threaten to end their long-term relationship with the rest of his body in a hurry. “Jeeze, Ed. What've you been eating? Lead?”

 

Fullmetal stared at his brother in amused disbelief, fighting to keep the smile off his face, but failing miserably. Al was intensely interested in the decor of the sick bay, the equipment, the color of the ceiling… anything but the look on his bother's face.

 

“It's… empty?” Sandra said, eyes wide.

 

“Yes, Ma'am,” Al said softly, as he hastily buckled the chest plate back up.

 

Sandra jumped back, and accidentally stomped on Crusher's foot, causing both women to stumble. She spun, and backed up again, stammering out a voiceless apology, and fell against the exam table. Instinctively, Fullmetal reached out, and caught her before she fell. “It's okay,” he said, gently.

 

“He,” Crusher corrected, as she hopped back and braced herself against another table. “And he has a name.”

 

Al clasped his hands in front of him, and bowed slightly. “I'm sorry, Dr. Crusher. Should I come back, later?”

 

She smiled warmly, and said, “You're fine, Alphonse.” She turned her focus back onto Sandra. “Ensign Raimy, you would do well to remember that we're in deep space, and we will encounter life forms vastly different from the typical humanoid.”

 

Spike had finally managed to separate Ed from her death-grip on his torso, and caught the last of the exchange. He felt another surge of sympathy, as the girl suffered the dressing-down the Doctor was giving her. As it continued, he slipped past the small group, and knelt down near the broken equipment in the middle of the floor. He was going to see about fixing it, but it was beyond any skills he possessed. But an idea hit him, and he smiled slightly.

 

“Hey, Ed,” he said, and two voices piped up. Spike winced and saw both the boy and the girl looking at him expectantly. “The Elric version,” he added. He wanted to get the attention off the PA and Alphonse, and he knew that Fullmetal was quite happy in the spotlight. Especially when it came to showing off his alchemy. “You wanna fix this?”

 

To his surprise, Alphonse piped up. “Brother, may I?” Fullmetal smiled and nodded.

 

Al joined Spike in the center of the room, and produced a piece of chalk from somewhere as he knelt down.

 

Spike leaned in and whispered, “I was trying to get you out of the hot seat, Al.”

 

“It's okay, Spike,” he said with a bit of a giggle.

 

He quickly drew a transmutation circle around the broken equipment, then stood up, and held his open palms over it. There was a spark, and then bolts of blue light filled the space between his hands and the deck. The circle glowed blue-white as excited particles swirled, breaking down the equipment, then reforming it back to its former self.

 

Once again, all activity in the sick bay stopped. Except this time, there were two others watching. Spike glanced up, and gave a nod to both Riker and Picard.

 

“That's quite a trick, Alphonse,” Riker said with a grin.

 

Picard nodded, as he stared at the repaired medical equipment, and said, “Indeed.” He looked up at Al, and smiled. “Very impressive, Mr. Elric.”

 

“Thank you, Sir,” Al said, and bowed respectfully. “But you can call me Alphonse.”

 

“As you wish… Alphonse.”

 

Spike picked up the piece of machinery, and handed it over to Crusher as she joined them. She stared at the object in her hands as if it were the Holy Grail, and said, “Not only impressive, but it completely invalidates my original theory about how your people's alchemy works.”

 

“I hate to interrupt, Doctor,” Picard said, mildly. “But I wanted to let you know we'll be arriving at Tharsus colony in half an hour.”

 

“We'll be ready, Captain,” she said. “But I wish we could have been able to get more hands.”

 

Spike looked from the Captain to the Doctor, and said, “What's going on?”

 

“There's been an industrial accident,” Crusher said. “Several thousand have been severely injured. That's not including those who've been contaminated by the chemical leak into the groundwater and the air.”

 

“I'd like to help, if I can,” Spike said. “I'm not doing much more than taking up space right now.”

 

Crusher grinned. “Absolutely. I'm sure we can find plenty for you to do, Spike.”

 

“I'd like to help too, Doctor,” Al said.

 

From the exam table Fullmetal added, “Same here.”

 

Edward piped up with an enthusiastic, “Me too!”

 

Picard smiled and said, “Looks like you got your wish, Doctor.”