Fullmetal Alchemist Fan Fiction / Cowboy Bebop Fan Fiction ❯ Once More, With Pirates ❯ Under Pressure ( Chapter 28 )

 

A/N: Damn Mustang's cagey hide, anyhow! Even I didn't expect this. And yes, there's more Havoc-abuse. The catch-phrase of the day? “Poor Havoc.” I swear that line is going to find its way into this story. But hey! He comes out on top in this chapter. Literally.

 

Under Pressure

 

It's the terror of knowing; What this world is about; Watching some good friends; Screaming let me out! Pray tomorrow takes me higher; Pressure on people; People on streets -Queen & David bowie

 

Jet lurched to his feet the instant Faye disappeared. “What did you do to her, Q?” he snapped. “If you hurt her, I swear, I'll—“

 

“You'll what?” Q said lightly. His brow arched, and his lips quirked as if he were attempting to suppress a laugh. “What could you possibly do to me?”

 

Jet's jaw tightened and his fists clenched into tight balls. He trembled in rage as his feet began to move forward on their own. He felt a strong hand on his arm, and faced the person who would dare to hold him back. He met burning red eyes. “Let me go, Scar,” he said low.

 

“If you try, your life is forfeit,” Scar said softly. “You cannot help your friends if you're dead, Jet Black.”

 

A cold smile tugged at the corner of Jet's lips. “We're already dead.”

 

“No we're not,” Riker said, and to the shock of everyone else in the room, he chuckled. It was a warm, genuine sound that was completely out of place in this atmosphere.

 

Jet stared at him, as the man casually strolled toward Q. He was certain the Commander had completely lost whatever shred of sanity he had left.

 

Riker stopped barely a foot away from the entity and looked him over appraisingly. His smile never faded, and Q seemed to be mildly amused at the new development. “You seem rather sure of yourself, Commander Riker,” he said.

 

Riker crossed his arms and quirked a brow. He'd finished his silent appraisal and appeared to be unimpressed. “Oh, but I am.” His expression suddenly shifted to a more serious one. “Very sure.”

 

He faced the rest of the party and jerked his head back toward Q. “The `game' isn't quite over yet.” He strode toward the chair McKenna was still sitting in. “But Q is on shaky ground.”

 

He stared down at her as she kept her eyes pointed at the floor. He passed a glance at Q, then faced the rest of the group. “It's that old philosophical question.”

 

Dawn struck Jet and he relaxed.

 

Scar loosened his grip on the man's arm as comprehension washed over his own face. He turned to Q and said, “Is there anything more powerful than God.”

 

“He who controls the board, controls the game,” Mustang said. He turned to Q. “But you don't control the board, do you?”

 

“No,” Riker said. “He doesn't. Not right now.”

 

A laugh erupted from Jet and he shook his head. It was becoming all too clear, and he didn't know if it was the irony or the apparent hopelessness of the situation that made him laugh. “You are getting your ass kicked, aren't you, Q?” He glared at the entity and his humour fled him. His eyes narrowed and he sneered in disgust. “You need us,” he said. “And if we don't play along you'll lose.”

 

“The enemy of my enemy is my friend?” Scar asked.

 

Mustang crossed the room and said, “No. The enemy of my enemy is still my enemy.” He joined Riker near McKenna as the mask of utter confidence settled on his face. “But our enemy desperately needs us in order to defeat his enemy.”

 

Riker nodded and looked down at McKenna. “Faye was wrong. The game's not over yet. The queen is still on the board.”

 

He walked away from her; back toward Q. “This has nothing to do with whether McKenna is guilty of hubris, does it?” he asked. “Because all of us are guilty. In fact, the pieces were chosen because of our hubris; isn't that right Q?”

 

Q had never moved from his spot, but he watched the entire process with growing humour. “Bravo, Commander Riker,” he said softly. He strode toward the dais. “I do so thoroughly enjoy watching you struggle for the answers.” He stopped and glanced back with a smile. “You corporeal life forms with your severely limited intellect never cease to surprise me with your leaps of logic.” He climbed the steps up to the throne and waved a hand. “But have you been able to wrap your puny little brains around the real reason you're here, yet?” He settled himself on the throne and propped his elbow on the arm. His look turned smug as he rested his cheek on his fist. “Or have you even gotten that far?”

 

“Why, to play your game, of course,” Riker said. His expression belayed the lightness of the tone with his brows knitted, eyes narrowed, and a slight sneer on his lips.

 

“Wrong,” Mustang said suddenly, and Riker shot a confused look at him. The Colonel strode toward the foot of the dais and looked up at Q. “The game started long before we were gathered together. But something went wrong.” He quirked a fine brow, and tilted his head curiously. “Your opponent made a move you hadn't anticipated? One that was devastating to your well-planned strategy?”

 

Q tsked and leaned forward. “Isn't that a rather simplistic view for the future Fuehrer? Surely you, of all people, can see beyond the obvious; to the elegance that lies underneath.”

 

“The `elegance' is in the simplicity,” Mustang said. “Are you saying this is a feint?” He smirked and shook his head. “I know better.”

 

“Do you, now?” Q said. “And how does a mere human still living in a primitive timeline know this with any certainty?”

 

Mustang smiled and nodded at the rest of the group. “Two of the universes are far beyond anything mine could ever conceive of technologically, true. My timeline branched earlier than theirs.” He walked away; back toward McKenna. “Because of that a different evolutionary path was forced.” He stopped, looked at Scar, then back to Q. “Alchemy developed beyond legend and mysticism to a science. Ours is the only universe that has that.”

 

Mustang turned and continued his path back to McKenna. His whole tone and demeanor changed as he waved his hand casually and said loudly, “You and I have more in common than the rest of your pieces, Q.”

 

He stopped beside McKenna and laid a hand on her shoulder. Slowly, her eyes came up to meet his, and Mustang smirked. He faced Q again and said, “One of the best field operatives I've ever had the pleasure to have under my command once called me a `morally bankrupt Colonel with a God complex'.” His face softened at the memory and he smiled. “He's also accused me of being a manipulative, power-hungry son of a bitch, whose only desire is to climb to the top and rule my country.”

 

His focus returned and the warm smile faded. “He's right. I use people. Manipulate situations in order to achieve my goals. But even a puny, primitive human like myself knows better than to spread my pieces too thinly across the board.”

 

He turned to McKenna and held his hand out to her. “You've been playing in three different universes, Q.”

 

She looked at Mustang's hand, then up at him in confusion. He smiled slightly and nodded. “Even a nearly-omnipotent entity like yourself would be hard-pressed to keep track of everything going on.”

 

Hesitantly, she took his hand and he pulled her to her feet.

 

“I always have a back-up plan. Just in case,” Mustang continued, his eyes remaining on McKenna. “And I know exactly who my players are.” He looked over her shoulder at Q and smirked. “I also get to know my opponents very, very well.”

 

Mustang laid both hands on McKenna's shoulders. “Because I'm just a little paranoid, I tend to know when a ringer has been brought in.” He gently turned her to face Q. “McKenna isn't your queen. She's your opponent's.”

 

The entity's expression became thunderous the instant before everything disappeared.

 

0o0o0

 

Havoc paced the common room, chewing on the filter of an unlit cigarette and unconsciously flipping the lid of his lighter up and down. The forced incarceration and unusual quiet was starting to get to him, and Hughes was no help.

 

The Lieutenant Colonel was silently staring out of the port. A bad sign, Havoc thought. Especially since the view was so disturbing to him before. But the most telling sign that things were starting to wear on the normally good-natured man, was the fact that he wasn't going on about his wife and daughter. Havoc had even attempted to draw him out by mentioning them, but a pained look crossed Hughes's face and he silently got up from the table.

 

We're going to go insane before we get home, he thought as he looked at Hughes's back. The droopy shoulders and slouched curve of the spine spoke eloquently of the feeling of utter defeat he was starting to feel. It made Havoc wonder just what kind of questions he'd been asked.

 

Havoc scowled and scratched the back of his head. He didn't want to think about that, right now. He knew if he did, he would go insane; and he had to believe they'd all get back home eventually. They had to. He flopped down on the couch near Hughes and groaned. It had the desired effect; the other man looked at him with a raised brow.

 

“I'm bored,” Havoc said.

 

A small smile pulled at Hughes's lips, but didn't go any further. “You're always bored.”

 

“Yeah. Comes with being single and having a Colonel that steals all the pretty girls.” He leaned back on the couch and laced his fingers behind his head. “Just once, I'd like to meet a beautiful woman that won't dump me the first time she sees the Boss's pretty face.” He sighed and stared up at the ceiling. “I don't want much. Really.” His hands came from behind his head and he made an hourglass shape with them. “You know; a great sense of style, a little bit of attitude. Legs that go on forev—“

 

Havoc froze and blinked when a lovely pair of pink-stockinged thighs suddenly appeared right in his hands. The heavenly objects were in white boots that stood precariously balanced on the edge of the couch and straddling his legs. His eyes traveled up to see those thighs attached to slender hips in bright yellow shorts, a perfectly smooth and bare midriff, the deadliest set of tits he'd ever seen, and incredible green eyes that were glaring down at him.

 

He was just about to say something about wishes really coming true, when Faye started to topple back. He instinctively reached up for her waist but only caught the elastic suspenders at her side. She pin-wheeled one arm to counterbalance as the other snagged into Havoc's bangs. Both of them went tumbling off the couch and onto the deck.

 

Havoc landed in what he thought was a most enviable position; right on top of her. He stared down in wonder, then a predatory grin spread cross his face. An instant later that grin disappeared with a startled squeak and was quickly replaced by a look of shock and fear.

 

“Try it Soldier-boy,” Faye purred, “and you'll lose your most prized possessions.”

 

Havoc gulped and stammered, “Oh please don't do that. They've barely been used.”

 

Faye snorted and Havoc was off of her with his back against the couch like he'd been catapulted. She leapt to her feet and loomed over him with her fists clenched tight at her sides.

 

Hughes chuckled. “You might want to be careful of what you wish for, Jean.”

 

Havoc shot a nervous glance at Hughes and cocked a brow.

 

“Where is he?” Faye snapped.

 

“Who?” Havoc asked.

 

“Who the hell do you think? Q!”

 

“Faye,” Hughes said softly. He lurched back and threw his hands up defensively when she spun on him. “He's not here.”

 

“Bullshit!” she spat. She stalked through the quarters searching each room, ranting the entire time. “That bastard knows everything we do and everything we think. He's around here somewhere, he has to be!” After searching both the sleeping rooms, she stomped toward the door.

 

When it didn't open she shouted, “Q! Goddamn you! Show yourself!” Her fist slammed against the door, punctuating each word.

 

Havoc cast a glance at Hughes. The Lieutenant Colonel's expression mirrored his own concern, and he got to his feet as Hughes moved toward Faye.

 

There was a strident tone building in her voice, and she was beating the door harder with her fists. Havoc just knew that the woman was going to break her hands before she could put a dent in that door.

 

Hughes came up behind her and wrapped her in a bear hug, pinning her arms to her sides. All that managed to accomplish was to give Faye leverage while she kicked at the door.

 

Hughes wasn't a small man and he kept himself in excellent shape, but he was hard-pressed to hold onto Faye while she fought like a cat about to be dumped in a tub. It was only a moment later that she'd thrown him off balance and slammed him into a wall, stunning him. Havoc was ready though, and tackled her. He put every ounce of his weight on her back, and made sure to get vital body parts out of her reach as he pinned her to the floor.

 

“Let me go!” she screamed and fought. “Q! You coward! I'm not through with you, dammit!”

 

“What the fuck are you going to do to him, Faye?” Havoc asked right in her ear. He was hoping that he could reach something in the more rational part of the woman's mind, before she went completely over the edge. “What the hell can you do to a goddamned God?”

 

His words sunk in, and she stilled. He didn't dare let her up though. He'd done this exact same thing far too many times with battle-weary soldiers during the Ishbal conflict to trust that letting her up now would keep him from getting injured.

 

When he thought she was listening, he spoke softly. “We're going to get out of this, Faye. It's gunna take all of us keeping our wits about us, though.” He sighed and rested his head on the back of hers when he felt her relax a little more. His eyes closed, and his voice dropped to a near-whisper. “Save your break-down for when you get home. Where it's safe. It's your right. You've earned it. But we need you to hold it together for a little bit longer.”

 

At that moment Havoc wasn't sure if what he was saying was for Faye, or himself.

 

Eventually he felt her heart rate slow, and her breathing steady. He thought she might have fallen asleep, but she said, “You can let me up, now.”

 

“You gunna beat the shit out of me if I do?”

 

She sighed. “Not right now. Maybe later.”

 

Havoc snorted, and scooted off of her. “I'll hold you to it.”

 

As she sat up, the subliminal thrum of the engines and the underlying white noise of moving bodies returned. Panels that had remained dark suddenly illuminated with beeps and chirps; then the door to their quarters slid open, revealing a startled Mustang on the other side.

 

Havoc grinned sheepishly at the thought of what the scene must look like, and said, “Good to see you, Colonel.”

 

Mustang quirked a brow as he stepped in. “I trust you've been keeping yourselves occupied?”

 

Hughes chuckled as he picked himself up, and rubbed the back of his head. “It's been a laugh a minute, Roy.”

 

Faye silently got to her feet, and only then did she look up to meet Havoc's eyes. Her face was damp and there was a haunted look in her eyes, but he didn't miss the silent apology before she turned and walked out.

 

Mustang watched her leave, and then looked questioningly at Havoc. The Lieutenant shrugged, and bounced to his feet. “This has been rough on everyone, I figure.”

 

Mustang nodded, and left it at that.

 

The comm chirped, and Picard's voice came through, “Colonel Mustang.”

 

“Mustang here, Captain. Has everyone been returned?”

 

“It appears so. Please report to the briefing room at your earliest convenience. Bring Lieutenant Colonel Hughes and Lieutenant Havoc with you.”

 

“Right away, Sir.”

 

Mustang jerked his head toward the door. “Time to compare notes,” he said.