Fullmetal Alchemist Fan Fiction / Cowboy Bebop Fan Fiction ❯ Once More, With Pirates ❯ The Trial ( Chapter 27 )

A/N: Confused yet? You will be. But I promise that I'll make it all nice and clear soon. And I'll hand it all to you wrapped up in a pretty pink bow, on top of that. Just be patient, my dear readers.

 

This chapter has parts that draw heavily off the end of “Play Me Some More of that Old Blues”, by my friend dragonnan. If you haven't read that yet, you'd better! It's a wonderful Cowboy Bebop continuation. Other parts draw heavily off of the Cowboy Bebop movie, “Knockin' on Heaven's Door”, and if you haven't seen that, smack yourself, and go watch it!

 

(Shameless promotion warning) You will also want to go to DeviantArt's newest club called cowboys-and-alchemy, because dragonnan has posted some wonderful artwork there inspired by GKaLH and OMWP. Go! Join!

 

 

The Trial

 

Since, my friend, you have revealed your deepest fear, I sentence you to be exposed before your peers. Tear down the wall! -- Pink Floyd (The Wall)

 

“What the hell does that have to do with anyth—Ow! Dammit!” Faye shouted, as another needle bit into her right hand. Her vision swam, and her knees were starting to buckle. She wanted to vomit from the ache that throbbed through the entire right half of her body. But it was a matter of principle, now. This had nothing to do with McKenna, and Faye wasn't about to play a perverted game of truth or dare.

 

The questions had grown increasingly personal, and only added to her confusion. What did any of it have to do with McKenna? she thought.

 

Memories that she'd just as soon file away were brought back to the surface with crystal clarity, and just kept growing sharper with each moment she was forced to relive. She was beginning to think there was more to those needle stings than just the pain.

 

Gone were the sepia tones and blurred edges that memories developed as time marched on. The cushion that protected the soul from the fresh, raw emotion of the moment was no longer there…

 

…Something was very wrong, and she felt it as soon as she kicked in the door. The kid from the arcade, the hacker she had been after earlier, stumbled toward her, blood running down his face. But the wound wasn't serious. Not enough to make him act like this.

 

He reached out to her, his eyes already beginning to glaze over, and choked, “I'll never get to see Sporky-Dorky.” Then he fell and never moved again.

 

It was then she saw the first of the butterflies. So beautiful; glowing like they were lit from within. What something so lovely and delicate was doing in the abandoned flat, she had no idea. But wondering about them was pushed aside, as she grew dizzy and disoriented, and started choking.

 

She heard the floor creak behind her, and had enough presence of mind left to turn and take aim. Quickly… too quickly, a looming figure reached for her, and she fired. The shot went wild as the blurred form wrested the gun from her hand. She saw him drop it and only then saw the blood pour from his hand. She blinked and focused, and a thrill of terror shot through her. Vincent!

 

Uncertainly she got to her feet, and stumbled drunkenly down the hall of the flat. She only knew she wanted to get away from him, not how she'd do it. But a rickety table got in her way, and she fell against it, disturbing the game that was waiting for its player to return. Blue marbles flew off the board, and rolled onto the floor; and before she could recover, Vincent had grabbed her with that bloodied hand, pinning her over backwards on the table. She didn't have the strength to fight, even though she tried; and revulsion surged through her, as he bent down to kiss her with a blood-stained lips. There was no passion in that kiss, even as he pried her mouth open with his tongue and mingled his coppery saliva with hers.

 

For whatever twisted reason that went though the terrorist's head, he had chosen to save her life with the only means available to him, his own blood…

 

…Nanomachines.

 

…Her world shattered like fragile glass. It took him walking out for the last time, for her to gather the courage to let him know how she really felt.

 

Too little, too late.

 

The next six months were a haze. She only went through the motions of being alive, of finding bounties; and if some of them were treated a little rougher than was perhaps reasonable, no one questioned it. They lived, they were brought in, and the rewards were paid.

 

In privacy and isolation, Faye picked at her wounds, keeping them fresh and raw. Silent punishment for waiting too long. If only, she thought. But she knew that it wouldn't have made a difference. Not then. She couldn't compete with a ghost.

 

She was finally coming to grips with the fact that Spike was dead. Gone. Out of her life forever, and it was about goddamned time she pulled herself up by her suspenders, and got on with her own life… when her whole world was turned upside down again.

 

…Kidnapped. Abducted. Didn't matter what words were used. She was not where she wanted to be, and it was against her will.

 

She was poked and prodded; tortured. And it was only after several days (weeks? She couldn't recall, time had become meaningless in captivity), that the awful truth came out. She was a commodity. Something that was being sold to the highest bidder because of what she carried within her bloodstream…

 

…Nanomachines.

 

Machines that would heal, and prevent illness.

 

She was originally supposed to be a cure for the child of the CEO of Mechatronics. Caulder was his name. But one of his lackeys, someone who had a shady past as it was, had other ideas and auctioned her off to the military.

 

…The pain was searing. Mathis had shot her in the worst possible place, her abdomen. Belly wounds were horrible. Slow to kill, and agonizing while death crept up on you. It was a demonstration. To show the General just what those nanomachines could do. But they weren't doing what they were supposed to, and she was dying.

 

Someone had entered the dark cell Mathis had hauled her to. Probably to finish her off, she figured. She was no longer useful. No longer valuable. But Faye Valentine never intended to go without a fight.

 

Hog-tied and in agony, she managed to get her shaky hands on the gun Mathis had dropped. As the form moved in the near darkness she fired, and she heard the body hit the deck with a muttered curse.

 

When she heard him move again, she tried to fire once more, but the gun was empty.

 

“Hard to aim when you're lying on the floor. Lucky for me.”

 

She knew then that she was dying, and it wouldn't be long now. That voice was familiar; the voice of a ghost. The blood loss was making her hallucinate.

 

But she felt his arm slide under her shoulder, and a face she both loved and hated swam into view.

 

“Spike!”

 

…They weren't going to make it. They wouldn't escape. But Faye tried to buy time. If it meant that Spike would be left alive, she would gladly sacrifice her own.

 

…Nanomachines.

 

This was the weapon Vincent Volaju was going to use to kill everyone on Mars. And it was what would keep him alive in his personal solitude. Although why he suddenly decided that he wanted Faye to join him in this would forever remain a mystery.

 

But it wasn't just Faye and Vincent who would survive if the psychotic plan had come to fruition. Vincent had a lover once. Electra Ovilo. And she would survive as well. What Faye, nor even Jet, knew at the time… was that Spike would also have survived.

 

A serum had been created by Cherious Medical, when it was discovered that Electra also carried the immunity; but they had no intention of sharing it with the rest of Mars. Electra and Spike found a way around that by stealing it.

 

When the clouds were seeded with the serum, the population of the first targeted town was saved. The serum protected the people from infection. But it was a weakened form. It hadn't had time to completely culture; the vaccine wasn't permanent. But it was enough.

 

…True immunity was easily achieved in much the same way as an STD. It was through the exchange of bodily fluids that kept Faye alive after she'd been exposed to the killer version of the nanomachines.

 

…It was what kept her alive a year later, when she'd been kidnapped, tortured, and shot in the stomach to show the military just what that vaccine could do. A vaccine that was also nanomachines; but with a different purpose. Different programming.

 

It was what kept Electra alive, and through Electra, Spike. And it was what brought Spike back to life after his final encounter with Vicious…

 

But they had limits. It took medical intervention to keep Faye alive after she was shot. It had been the labs at Mechatronics that really brought Spike back from the dead. When they'd both been tested, those nanomachines were inactive. Both Faye, and Spike were now just as vulnerable as any other human to illness and injury.

 

The military had developed them, but lost the cure. Cherious Medical tracked them down, to destroy any evidence they ever existed, and rediscovered the cure. Mechatronics wanted that cure to save the life of a boy deeply loved by a grieving father, and the military was willing to do anything to get it back. A circular path, and all interconnected in the end.

 

…But not connected with McKenna, or either of the other two universes.

 

Unless…

 

The questions had grown more bizarre as time went on. Asking for second-hand information, such as what Jet had seen in the complex. It wasn't like any court proceeding she'd ever experienced before. Hearsay was out of the question there. Opinions were left to the gossips. She had heard Jet mention something about Gate Corp. But the idea of them having concerns in this universe, and possibly the other was incomprehensible. It was too far-fetched.

 

But is it? she thought. We're here. McKenna can apparently slip through all three universes with no effort. She supposedly has connections to Gate Corp. Is it all that far of a stretch to put them here, then? And how many pies do they have their fingers in, in our own universe?

 

She answered all the questions fired at her almost unconsciously. Another part of her mind sifted through the deluge of information that was clamoring for attention inside her head. There was something that tugged at the back of her mind, but it would escape into the darkness before she could grasp it; distracted by the bite of the needles in the box if she hesitated even a little bit. Or faded into whips of smoke when memories returned as strong as if she were reliving them.

 

She no longer saw the faces of her inquisitors, but knew their voices. Riker asked her this question, Mustang asked her that. Jet would say something to Scar and he would relay it to McKenna, who would clarify a point.

 

It was hard to concentrate, though. The pain of the needles was threatening to overwhelm her. Her vision blurred as tears forced their way to the surface, both from the burning agony of the needles, and from the raw emotion of refreshed memories. Half her body throbbed with a deep, nauseating pain, as the poison chewed at her nerves. She wanted to vomit. Her knees felt like rubber, and she just wanted this to be over.

 

But the connection was there, and she stubbornly refused to give up or give in, until she made it. And there was something else. Something more insidious than a petulant God who played perverse games. More frightening than a small woman who whored herself and her abilities to collect data from different universes to make someone powerful. Something that was almost within her grasp, if she could just reach a little further…

 

Something that fled to parts unknown with the last question Riker asked her.

 

“Are you willing to let Edward Elric die to avenge your wounded pride?”

 

“What the hell does that have to do with anyth—Ow! Dammit!”

 

“Answer the question,” Riker demanded. “Isn't it a fact that you're intensely jealous of the relationship that Spike Spiegel, a man you profess to love, has with Edward Elric?” Riker came from behind the narrow podium, and stalked toward her like a predator about to pounce. “So jealous, in fact, that you would be willing to withhold something you have within your own body that could save his life?”

 

Jet and Mustang stared at Riker in disbelief. Faye felt the bite of the needles again, and she flinched. The two faces became a blur, and she turned to Riker. The look he had frightened her. Cold, calculating.

 

“No!” she shouted, and the needles bit into her; hard, this time. “Fuck!”

 

Riker leaned in, and pinned her with cold blue eyes. “Don't lie Ms. Valentine. That box can tell.”

 

“Fuck you,” she whispered; and the needles gnawed at her hand.

 

“Riker, what kind of game are you playing?” Jet demanded somewhere in the distance. But Faye's world at this moment consisted of the agony surging through her body, and the cold blue eyes of William Riker.

 

She felt the ground try to slide out from under her, and something passed across the Commander's face so quickly she knew it had to be a trick of the light and the haze of pain.

 

Then suddenly, everything became horrifyingly clear. Faye had one chance to end all this. She wasn't going to take the pain and the tortured memories any more. She couldn't.

 

“Fuck you,” she said again, louder this time. Then with a scream for shredding flesh, she yanked her hand out of the box, and spun to face Q. Her knees buckled, and she felt strong arms supporting her the rest of the way down.

 

“Faye,” she heard Jet shout, and the sound of his boots pounding the tiles toward her. The world wobbled and swam before her eyes, and blackness tried to take over, but she refused to let it.

 

“Get the hell away from her, Riker,” Jet snapped, and she felt one set of arms leave, while another, more familiar and comforting, wrap around her.

 

She leaned into the broad, solid chest of her dearest friend. “'All three of you had better do your absolute best,' he said,” Faye whispered. “Riker's doing what he has to, Jet. To save three universes.”

 

She looked up at Jet, and saw that he understood. He looked at Riker, and she followed Riker's gaze up to Q, who was smirking from the dais. She smirked back at him. “It is a game, isn't it Q?”

 

Q chuckled and languidly got to his feet. “Of course! All life is a game.” He took each person in the room with a look, and smiled.

 

She heard the tearing of fabric, and then Scar knelt in front of her.

 

“You humans can be so slow,” Q said, as he casually strolled toward the platform. “But watching you go through all your wasteful moves while you chase your own tails never ceases to provide entertainment.”

 

Scar gingerly reached for Faye's wounded hand, and she tried to bring it up to meet him, but it felt leaden.

 

Then confusion furrowed his brow, and he hesitated. Jet cradled her arm with one hand, and slowly raised it, his own face etched with confusion, and more than a little bit of awe.

 

Q stopped in front of McKenna, and stared down at her a moment. Then he looked back at Faye, and his insufferable smirk returned. “It's especially entertaining when you could win the game in a few short, and very obvious moves that you never fail to miss.”

 

“Kinda hard to know what to do when we don't even know the rules, Q,” Jet said.

 

Faye braved a glance at her shredded hand, and had to suppress a gasp. It was healing rapidly.

 

“The rules are as simple as the moves to win,” Q said, as he strode to the platform. “He who controls the board, controls the game.”

 

“Then why don't you fix Edward?” Mustang said from behind her, and caused her to start. She'd never heard him approach. “You control the board. You control the game.”

 

Q chuckled, and the sound just managed to piss Faye off. She pushed away from Jet, and staggered to her feet. She glared at him, and felt a cold smile tug at her lips as she swayed in her effort to stay upright. “But he doesn't control the board,” she said. “Do you, you Son of a Bitch?”

 

“Faye, what the hell are you talking about?” Jet asked.

 

Her eyes never left Q's, and so she didn't miss the look of shock that flit across his face when she held up her no-longer-injured hand. It was a gamble. A huge one, but it paid off in that brief look.

 

“The nanomachines that Vincent gave me were rendered inactive after our little adventure on Pandora, Jet,” she said. “I shouldn't heal this quickly.”

 

“So Q reactivated them,” Jet said.

 

“Are you saying that these… nanomachines can heal Ed?” Mustang asked. “Wouldn't be just as easy for him to do it himself?”

 

“Oh,” Q said. “But it wouldn't be nearly as much fun.”

 

Faye stumbled another step closer to Q. “You didn't take Ed off the board,” she said.

 

Q remained where he was, but Faye thought that over confident smirk looked just little weaker.

 

She heard Riker chuckle softly; it had a bitter edge to it. “So that's it? You're getting your ass kicked in some damned cosmic game, and you're pulling our strings to cheat?”

 

She came so close to Q she could reach out and touch him. The very idea made her want to puke, though. Instead, she held her hand in front of his face, and sneered. “Game over, you worthless Bastard.”

 

The smirk shifted ever so slightly, and turned into a cold, calloused smile. “Indeed it is, Faye Valentine,” he said, then she felt the tiles beneath her shift.